Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“We can make whatever sounds good,” I assure her. “Charlotte brought groceries by this morning. Between that and the ready-made meals from Makena’s meal service, Bea said there’s enough food to feed an army.”
“Good.” Clover manages a shaky smile. “I’ll look forward to eating it when my stomach calms down.”
“There she is!” Clark rushes to trigger the sliding glass doors when he sees us coming. “Welcome home, darlin’. So glad to see you in one piece. This place wouldn’t be the same without you girls.”
Clover perks up at the old man’s genuine warmth and concern. “Aw, thanks, Clark. It’s good to be home.”
“Anything I can do for y’all, you let me know.” He shoots me a stern look as he adds, “I mean that. Don’t be afraid to ask. I know you’re busy and can’t be here all the time for them. We’re all ready to chip in. Reggie and Nelly, too.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, guiding Clover into the elevator, careful not to bump her cast on the narrower door.
“You’re a real one, Clark,” Clover agrees.
“Hang in there, young lady,” he says, smile widening as he adds, “Gotta get you up and at ‘em before the baby gets here. Lawd, what a wonderful surprise. Gonna be a blessing to have a little one in the building again. Sure will.”
Clover waves, making sounds of agreement as I hit the button for their floor.
“A baby really is coming,” she says, in that bemused, floaty voice that makes me think the drugs are kicking in again. “That’s wild, isn’t it? There’s going to be a whole ass other person in this apartment. A tiny one. Who will grow into a big one.”
“That’s the way it usually goes,” I observe dryly, but Clover doesn’t seem to get the joke.
Yep, she’s definitely feeling those meds.
When we emerge from the elevator, Beatrice is waiting in the hall by their door. Her anxious features lift as she spots us and waves. “There you two are! Welcome home! I just finished cleaning your room and putting fresh sheets on your bed, Clover. Your pillows smell fantastic. You’re going to be so much more comfortable than at the hospital.”
“Bea, you shouldn’t have,” she says. “I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”
“I’m happy to clean and change sheets and anything else that needs to be done,” I add, wanting her to know I was serious about doing the chores.
Aside from a few lingering bruises, I’m all healed up—not so much as the ghost of a headache—and am certainly in better shape than either of them.
“It wasn’t that hard.” Beatrice shifts back on her crutches, making room for us to precede her inside before shutting the apartment door behind us. “I’m getting around so much better with the thicker boot. I probably won’t need crutches at all in a day or two.”
She trails after us as I head for Clover’s room down the hall, keeping up a steady stream of chatter. “The bad news is the lasagna is going to take ninety minutes to cook, not sixty, and I put it in a little later than I meant to because I was busy digging the extra pillows out of my closet. So, we’re running behind on that, but the salad is almost ready, and I put a cheese and cracker plate on a tray by your bed in case you were already—”
“Cheese and crackers sound great, actually,” Clover cuts in. “I think I should probably shove food in my face now, just in case. I might not be awake in thirty or forty minutes. The medicine makes me so sleepy all the time.”
“Okay, sounds good. There are strawberries and pear slices by your bed, too. And water,” Bea says. “Do you want something else to drink? Sweet tea? Lemonade? Charlotte brought over some sparkling passion fruit stuff, but it’s a little tart, so—”
“Relax, mama bear,” Clover says. “Water’s fine. I’m all set. Go take a load off. You look even more pregnant than yesterday.”
Bea slows behind us with a laugh. “I do not.”
“Do, too,” Clover insists. “You look like you swallowed the moon.”
“Well, that’s probably because you’re on drugs,” Beatrice shoots back, making Clover giggle.
“That’s what they all say. Because it’s true.” Clover yawns, then coos as I guide her through her bedroom door, “Oh, wow, Bea, the cheese tray is so pretty! Look at the strawberries. They look like roses. Or tiny angel lips. Aw, poor angels, they don’t have lips anymore. That’s sad. I can’t eat angel lips.”
“No, it’s fine,” Bea says from the door. “Angel lips grow back right away. Everybody knows that.”
“Oh, good.” Clover sighs. “I’m glad.”
I glance back at Bea. “Good save.”
“Thanks,” she murmurs. “I’ll go finish the salad. Let me know if you guys need anything else in here.”
“Will do,” I promise.
“You want a beer with dinner?” She casts an amused glance Clover’s way. “Seems like you might need one after half an hour in the car with this character.”