Susan Mallery - The Girls Of Mischief Bay

Pam nodded. So that wasn’t different. Hayley always felt perfectly healthy right up until she started bleeding.

“I wish I could help,” Pam told her. “Give you something.”

“You offering to be my surrogate?” Hayley asked, her voice teasing.

“God, no.”

Hayley laughed. “I figured.” Her humor faded a little. “I appreciate what you’re saying, though. I’d like some of whatever magic it is that so many other women get to take for granted.”

Pam nodded. She’d been pregnant three times and had three healthy children to show for it. She’d suffered bad morning sickness with Brandon, but otherwise, the pregnancies had been uneventful. She’d never considered how many other women had to deal with so much more.

“How’s Rob doing?” she asked.

Rob, Hayley’s husband, worked two jobs to help pay for the various fertility treatments Hayley wanted them to try. He was a good guy and Pam knew he worried about his wife.

“Good,” Hayley said brightly. “Excited I’m pregnant again.”

Pam nodded without speaking. She would bet Rob was a whole lot more worried than excited. She knew he wanted Hayley to stop trying. To give her body a rest. Not that Hayley listened.

Pam poured boiling water into two mugs and passed one to Hayley, along with the tea bag and spoon. She dropped a bag of Earl Grey into her mug just as John strolled into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he said as he walked around to Hayley and gave her a quick hug. “How’s my favorite secretary?”

“Good.”

“I see you brought cookies. I’ve always liked you. Remind me to give you a raise on Monday.”

Hayley grinned. “I will.”

John winked at Pam, took a couple of cookies from the plate and headed for the garage. Lulu, sensing the possibility of a snack, followed her dad.

“John is about the nicest man I know,” Hayley said when the door had closed. “Everybody at work loves him.”

“I was lucky to find him,” Pam said, knowing that nice was more important than exciting and after thirty years anyone—even George Clooney—could seem less thrilling. It was simply how life worked.

Hayley mentioned something about the hotel project the company was working on. Pam mostly listened. The light had shifted and she noticed a subtle glow to her friend’s skin.

Hayley was what? Thirty? Thirty-one. She had a firm jaw and no wrinkles at all. Her hands and arms were so smooth. Pam drew in a breath as she realized that except for John, she was nearly always the oldest person in the room. And while she should probably be happy that so many young people wanted to hang out with her, she would rather it was because she was young, too.

She mentally gave herself a firm shake. She had to stop thinking about herself all the time. She was becoming obsessed and tedious.

She tuned back in to Hayley’s conversation and laughed over a comment about a client.

“I should head home,” Hayley said, coming to her feet. “Thanks for the tea and the company.”

“When does Rob come back?” One of Rob’s two jobs involved business travel.

“In a few days.”

“If you need anything or get scared, just grab your pillow and come over,” Pam told her. “You’re always welcome. We have that guest room sitting empty.”

Hayley nodded, then hugged her. “Thanks. It helps to know you’re right across the street.”

“And down two houses. You go across the street, you’ll find yourself at the Logans’ and they have those really mean cats.”

Hayley laughed. “Good point.”

Pam walked her out. When she turned to go back to the kitchen, she saw John and Lulu walking toward her.

“Everything okay with her?” he asked.

“So far.” She drew in a breath. “I don’t want to send a message to the universe or anything, but I have a bad feeling about this. Why can’t the doctors figure out the problem? And when are they going to tell her that all these miscarriages are a bad idea?”

She’d bled a lot with the last one and Pam had ended up insisting she go to emergency.

John put his arm around her. “She really wants a baby.”

“And I want her to have one. Just not like this.”

Her husband squeezed, then released her. “Jen texted me. She and Kirk are coming over an hour early. They want to talk.”

Pam pressed her lips together. “Why didn’t she text me?”

“Probably because she knew you would ask questions.”

“Didn’t you? Is something wrong?” A thousand possibilities, all of them horrible, flashed through her mind. “You don’t think one of them is sick, do you? Or maybe Kirk shot someone and is going to be indicted for murder.” She pressed a hand to her chest as her breathing hitched. “Oh, God. What if they’re getting a divorce?”

Her husband chuckled. “I have to admire your ability to see disaster in every situation. You think they’d tell us that together, before Sunday dinner?”

“Probably not.”

“Then maybe stay calm until we hear what it’s about. For all we know, they want to move in with us to save money.”

Pam rolled her eyes. “Don’t even joke about that.” Her mind stopped swirling with disastrous possibilities and she tried to think of good ones. “I wonder if they’re getting that puppy they’ve been talking about. Jen called me last week to ask about how long it took to house-train Lulu. A puppy would be nice.”

“I’m sure they’re getting a puppy.”

“I don’t know if that’s a great idea. They both work, so they’re gone all day.”

John kissed the top of her head. “You are the queen of finding the cloud in every silver lining.”

She smiled. “Okay. Point taken. I’m going to get the roast ready.”

“Need any help?”

“No, thanks.”

She returned to the kitchen, Lulu walking beside her. The dog curled up in her kitchen bed while Pam set the roast on the counter. She would let it warm up for about an hour before popping it in the oven. In the meantime she could peel the four hundred pounds of potatoes they would be eating tonight. Unlike a lot of their friends, she and John saw their grown kids a lot. They’d stayed close geographically and seemed to like hanging out with their parents.

So far they’d been blessed with their children. Jen, their oldest, had been sweet and funny. Steven had been a typical boy—always getting into trouble. But he had a good heart and lots of friends. Brandon, their youngest, had been more difficult. He’d been moody and attracted to trouble. High school had been hell. He’d skipped class, hung out with horrible kids and discovered he liked to party. The summer he turned seventeen, he’d wrapped his car around a tree.

Angels had been with him, Pam thought, as she peeled her potatoes. The crash should have killed him, yet he’d walked away with nothing more than some bruises and a broken arm.

She and John hadn’t known what to do, so they’d erred on the side of tough love. They’d sent him to rehab for six weeks. Not one of those touchy-feely kinds with meetings where you shared and did crafts, but one with a boot-camp philosophy and lots of lectures from people in recovery. Brandon had quickly realized he was far from the biggest, baddest dog in the pack. He’d come home older, wiser and, most important, sober.

He’d completed his senior year with a 4.0 GPA and had made what had seemed like the impossible decision to be a doctor. But he’d stuck with it and was now in his second year of medical school.

“My son, the doctor,” Pam murmured.

They were all in a good place right now. She would be grateful and not borrow trouble. Although she did think that Jen and Kirk might not be ready for a puppy.

Five

Pam sat next to John on one sofa while Jen and Kirk sat on the other. Her daughter, a pretty brunette, smiled broadly.