Let Sleeping Dogs Die Page 2

  “Great idea, Mom.” Sheridan looked up at me and grinned. “And don’t forget my social life. Hey, maybe I could give up my social life entirely. And you’re probably right about the singing and the theater.” She threw an arm over her eyes and collapsed back against the sofa. “Why, I don’t know how I’ve managed this far.” Her voice had taken on an affected drawl. “How can I ever thank you for pointing out my folly?”

  I picked up a cushion from the sofa and threw it at her, scattering her carefully aligned pencils.

  “Go.” She waved a hand toward the door and started to realign her pencils. “Enjoy dinner with Bobbi Jo and Lily. Give them both a kiss for me.”

  “Don’t forget to eat.” I leaned down to kiss the top of her dark brown hair. It smelled like sunshine and lemons. Part Sheridan and part twenty-dollar-a-bottle shampoo. I ignored her eye roll and hurried out.

  My loft was located in a rehabbed warehouse so the only elevator was a creaky old mechanism designed to haul things like heavy equipment up and down the four floors. Usually, I just took the stairs from my loft on the fourth floor if I was going down, but I often took the scary elevator when I was going up. The first level had recently been turned into a garage for the tenants. As far as I was concerned, the parking garage made my loft apartment just about perfect. I’d rented the place shortly after Craig and I had divorced and put quite a bit of time and effort into turning the former photo studio space into a two-bedroom apartment with a darkroom. I loved the high ceilings and wood floors. The big windows let in a lot of light and offered a beautiful view of the mountains in the distance as well as part of the river.

  Bobbi Jo had tried to talk me out of it, arguing that it was so different from the large, suburban home I’d occupied with Craig. But that was exactly why I wanted it. I liked the idea of something completely different. It felt like a fresh start and a new outlook on life. Bobbi Jo had wanted me to stay with her in the mini-mansion she lived in. Her husband, Edward, had left her a very rich woman. But also a very lonely woman.

  I stopped by the market to pick up a bottle of wine for dinner. Bobbi Jo couldn’t drink, but I knew Lily would appreciate it. Lily, Bobbi Jo, and I had been friends for what seemed like an eternity. Lily had been in a poly-amory relationship for years. Married to one man, lover to another. The men were fine with it and became good friends. She left both of them last year and the men were still best friends. Lily said she needed some time to work on herself. Bobbi Jo wanted a doula to help her through the pregnancy, and Lily was happy to move in temporarily and fit the bill. It was the perfect solution since it gave Lily a place to live, provided a doula for Bobbi Jo, and exonerated any guilt I might have felt about moving into my loft.

  I pulled my Escape into Bobbi Jo’s driveway and stopped in front of her triple garage. The motion-sensor lights came on and the front door opened. Bobbi Jo wore a pair of dark green leggings and soft suede boots with a pale yellow sweater and stood in the classic third trimester pose with one hand bracing her lower back. I was amazed at how big she was. Well, not all of her. Just her belly.

  “You look great,” I said. I remembered how unattractive I’d felt at the end of my pregnancy, and I figured Bobbi Jo felt the same way. There are times when a woman just needs a little flattery. Besides, Bobbi Jo was still beautiful even if her tall, willowy figure had been lost to the pregnancy. She still had the short, dark red curls and brilliant green eyes that caused both men and women to stop and stare.

  “I look like a mountain.” Bobbi Jo wrapped her arms around me as best she could, angling her belly to the side.

  “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything.”

  Bobbi Jo laughed and pulled me into the house. “You didn’t bring Sheridan? I haven’t seen her in ages.”

  “She wanted to come but she has a paper due and, as usual, the deadline is now at critical mass.”

  “Hey, Skye,” Lily called from the great room. “Oh, good, you brought wine.” She took the bottle from me and walked to the bar in the corner of the room.

  “Oh, gawd, I’d give anything for a glass. But it’s not good for the baby.” Bobbi Jo patted her belly and laughed. “And it makes me puke.” She picked up a crystal goblet filled with what appeared to be grape juice. “Only a few more weeks, though.”

  “Are you ready?” I asked. “Do you have everything you need?”

  “Are you kidding?” Lily asked. “Every baby store in town is reporting a booming business because of her.”

  “Now, that’s just not true, darlin’.” Bobbi Jo laughed and shook her head. “Okay, maybe it is true, but this is my first baby. Probably my last one, too, so I want her or him to have everything.”

  Lily handed me a glass of wine. “And now that Jasmine’s pregnant, she thinks she needs everything that Bobbi Jo has.”

  Jasmine was Lily’s daughter. I’d helped her plan and execute her very unusual wedding the previous year, and I remembered that she’d wanted to have a baby right away. “If the babies are six months apart, then that’s perfect for hand-me-downs.”

  “Oh, you’re right, Skye.” Bobbi Jo turned to Lily. “Tell Jasmine that I’ll be giving her all my stuff as soon as the baby outgrows it.”

  “I can’t believe this will be my third grandchild,” Lily said. “When did I get to be so old?” Lily didn’t seem old to me even though she had ten or fifteen years on me. She was plump and her hair was streaked with gray, but I’d never known a woman with more energy. Lily had come of age during the Sixties and completely embraced the prevalent philosophy of the time. She wore clothing that would look outrageous on most middle-aged women but suited her to a tee. Lily owned a new age shop called The Goddess Chalice, practiced paganism, and had been in a poly-amory relationship until last year. I was pretty sure she’d done things that I wouldn’t have considered doing in my wildest dreams. There was nothing old about the woman, no matter how many grandchildren she had.

  Between the three of us—a mother, a grandmother, and a soon-to-be mother—we kept the baby talk going until Lily announced she’d better see to dinner and headed for Bobbi Jo’s spacious, state-of-the-art kitchen. Bobbi Jo watched her leave, then turned to me.

  “I’m going to do drugs, and you’re going to help me.”

  “Drugs?” I hoped Bobbi Jo was referring to her delivery, but it’s always best to clarify with her. “What kind of drugs?”

  “Shhhh! Lily will kill me if she finds out.”

  “Bobbi Jo.” I lowered my voice when Bobbi Jo pressed her finger to her lips. “Lily is your doula. She’s your labor coach. She’s going to know if they give you drugs.”

  “That’s where you come in.”

  Uh-oh. That was exactly what I was afraid of. I really didn’t want to hear her plan.

  “You just need to distract her while I get the drugs. Once I have them, there’s nothing she can do about it.”

  “Bobbi Jo, why don’t you just tell Lily you want something to make you more comfortable during the labor? A lot of women have epidurals now.”

  “She’ll freak. I mentioned the other day that I might want to have an epidural and she completely lost it. She went on and on about how women are made for this and how I’ll be missing out on the most incredible experience I’ll ever have in my entire life if I take the epidural. Then there was something about some woman who gave birth in some field and just picked the baby up and went right on picking cotton. Or vegetables. Something like that.” Bobbi Jo shook her head. “That is just sick. No one should tell a pregnant woman stories like that.”

  “Calm down.” I reached over and patted my friend’s hand. “Lily is from a time when natural childbirth was usually a lot better than the drugs they gave women. She really believes she’s giving you good advice.”

  “I know. That’s the problem. She’s never going to go along with this, and I know myself. I’m not that strong a woman. I cry when I get a hangnail. I’m going to need those drugs.” She leveled a gaze at me. “And you’re going to help me g
et them.”

  “You make it sound like we’re going to rob a pharmacy.”

  Bobbi Jo’s eyes got wide and filled with tears; her lower lip trembled.

  “Now, stop,” I said. “This is all going to be fine. I’ll be there when you have the baby, and I’ll make sure you get whatever you want.” Wasn’t this precisely why Bobbi Jo had made Lily her doula? Wasn’t the doula supposed to be in charge of making sure the mother got everything she wanted during the birth? Why was this suddenly my job? Then I immediately felt guilty for thinking that way. I should want to help my best friend. And I did want to help. It was just that I was incredibly busy with my job.

  “You girls want to get to the table?” Lily called from the dining room. “It’s almost ready.”

  I stood and held out an arm for Bobbi Jo to use to leverage her bulk off the sofa. “Do you want some more juice?”

  “I’m sick to death of juice. And milk.” Bobbi Jo’s voice held an edge of hysteria. “I want a martini. I want scotch on the rocks. I want to do shots of tequila off the six-pack abs of a twenty-year-old male stripper.” Her face puckered and tears flooded her eyes again, then flowed down her cheeks.

  “It’s going to be all right, sweetie.” I snatched a tissue from the box on the end table and dabbed at her eyes. She took the tissue from me, wiped her tears, then blew her nose.

  “Should we eat in the kitchen since it’s only the three of us?” Lily stood in the opening to the dining room holding a stack of plates and bowls.

  “I want to eat in the dining room.” Bobbi Jo shook her head and looked like she might cry again. “I love the dining room. Edward and I bought the table and hutch when we went to Monterey two years ago.” Her lip trembled again, but at least she was smiling this time.

  A variety of emotions flickered across Lily’s face. Exasperation, sympathy, maybe a little fear. “Then the dining room it is.” Lily turned around and almost ran to set the dinnerware on the table, then pulled napkins and silverware from the hutch.

  I walked Bobbi Jo to the dining room and settled her in an upholstered chair at the head of the walnut table that would easily seat twelve. Bobbi Jo folded the napkins into intricate fan shapes while I arranged the plates, bowls, and silverware.

  “I learned to do this watching one of those decorating shows,” Bobbi Jo said. She handed me the napkins, and I placed one in the center of each dinner plate. The table was so pretty with Bobbi Jo’s designer stoneware and handmade glasses, I decided to light the candles. It must have been the right thing to do because Bobbi Jo smiled and this time her lip didn’t tremble.

  Lily returned from the kitchen with a salad bowl and two bowls of dressing, a vinaigrette and a creamy, light green concoction. She hustled out and came back with a basket filled with sliced French bread and a butter dish. Her final delivery was a casserole dish she placed on an iron trivet. We sat and she dished up the entrée. A boneless, skinless chicken breast, stuffed with herbed ricotta and topped with marinara sauce. My mouth watered just looking at my plate. This was way better than the leftover chicken chow mein I would have had at home.

  “So, tell me about your next shoot.” Bobbi Jo helped herself to salad and topped it with the creamy green stuff. “It’s pets, right?”

  “The calendar for the Pet Place. Eighteen photos of dogs and cats, plus a parrot and an iguana. But Connie called me today from the Bahamas and she’s met someone there and she’s getting married. So I have to do the shoot without her.”

  “Oh, my gawd! Connie’s getting married? Who is he?” Bobbi Jo asked.

  “His name is Tyreese. That’s all I know. I tell you, she sounds like she’s lost her mind. I mean, Connie has always been so sensible. But she was giggling and silly on the phone.”

  “That’s what love can do to a girl,” Lily said.

  “Maybe. Still, I’d feel a lot better if she came back for the photo shoot. I’m really nervous about it.”

  “Oh, darlin’, it’ll be all right,” Bobbi Jo said. “You know what she likes. You’ll do a great job.”

  Just thinking about it made me want some of Bobbi Jo’s drugs.

  “It sounds like a great time with all those animals,” Lily said. “I was always good with animals. I volunteered for years with the Humane Society, so if you need any help, just holler.”

  “You can’t do the animals,” Bobbi Jo said. “You’re doing me, remember? I could go into labor anytime.”

  “I know.” Lily patted Bobbi Jo’s hand. “But, remember, the doctor said you haven’t even started to efface yet. It’s probably going to be a few more weeks.”

  “Your due date is three weeks from now, right?” I asked.

  “Three long, endless weeks,” Bobbi Jo agreed. “And I could be late. It’s very common for first pregnancies to go a little longer. Gawd! How will I stand it? I’m already big as a barn.”

  “No, you aren’t. It just seems that way to you. After you have the baby, you’ll shrink back down to your regular size in no time.”

  “I don’t know,” Lily said. “Some women carry an extra twenty—”

  I kicked her shin under the table, eliciting a muffled yelp and a mean look from her. “Of course she will,” I insisted. “Bobbi Jo’s healthy and in good shape. She’s never had a weight problem.”

  “Not until now.” Bobbi Jo frowned and rubbed her bulging belly.

  “Have you decided on a name yet?” I thought maybe we needed to change the topic of conversation to something that would make Bobbi Jo think about the positive aspects of pregnancy. Like the baby.

  “I’m still thinking about it. Of course, if it’s a boy, Edward James Melrose Jr. But if it’s a girl, I just can’t decide. I thought about Edwina, but that sounds kind of old-fashioned. Maybe Edwynyth or Edalyn.”

  “Is Edwynyth a name?” I asked.

  “It is if I say it is.” Bobbi Jo attacked her salad. “I want to name the baby after Edward. That’s what I would have done if he was alive.”

  I wasn’t about to argue with a woman that close to her due date. “Did you finish the nursery?”

  “Oh, you have got to go up and look at it. I did it all in greens because that’s so earthy, you know, and earth colors are just the thing right now. And I had a chest of drawers painted to match the bedding. It’s so adorable.” Bobbi Jo forked salad into her mouth and chewed for a moment. “I still haven’t found the right nanny, though. I called one of those nanny agencies, but I didn’t care for anyone they sent over. But Lily said she’d stay with me until I do.”

  “I said I’d stay for two months. That’s plenty of time to find a nanny.” Lily rolled her eyes at me and I figured she’d had just about enough of being the doula for Bobbi Jo. “Besides, my apartment will be ready by then and I’m looking forward to living there.”

  “You’ve already got an apartment?” Bobbi Jo’s lower lip trembled. “Don’t you like living here with me?”

  “Calm down, Bobbi Jo.” Lily patted Bobbi Jo’s hand. “I told you before that I’d planned to move into the apartment over my shop.”

  “I’ve never seen the apartment,” I said. “What’s it like?”

  “Well, right now, it’s a mess. I don’t think you could really call it an apartment. Mostly it’s two huge rooms with a sink.”

  “Sounds like it needs professional help,” Bobbi Jo said.

  “It does. I’ve hired a friend of Jasmine’s to help me turn it into a livable space. We’re still working on the plans.”

  “I can’t wait to see it,” I said.

  “Well, I can,” Bobbi Jo grumbled.

  “I’d love you to see it, Skye. You should come over soon. Maybe you could give me some help with the initial plans. I really like what you did with your loft.”

  “Oh, gawd, I’m stuffed.” Bobbi Jo pushed her plate away. It was still full of food. “I swear, I can’t eat more than three bites of food before I’m full, then half an hour later, I’m starving again.”

  “It’s the baby.” I nodded at
her tummy. “You’re carrying high, like I did. I bet you’re out of breath if you walk more than ten feet, too. The baby is crowding your stomach and your lungs.”

  “They say that carrying high is a sign of a girl,” Lily said.

  “It was true for me. What about you? Did you carry Jasmine differently than Bo?” I asked.

  “Goodness, that’s been so long ago, I’m not sure I remember. Maybe I should see if I have any pictures of me when I was pregnant with them.” She lifted her wineglass and laughed. “These days, it’s not an issue because they can tell you the gender of the baby with an ultrasound less than halfway through the pregnancy.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t want to know,” I said. “And you had the amniocentesis; they would have known for sure if it’s a boy or a girl.”

  “I guess I’m just old-fashioned about it.” Bobbi Jo shrugged and toyed with her salad. “Edward and I used to talk about having a baby. Before we gave up. Anyway, he always said that was a big part of the excitement.”

  “I think it’s sweet,” I told her. “And it’s definitely exciting.”

  “You want to see the nursery?” Bobbi Jo struggled to rise from the dining chair. I didn’t feel like I had any choice but to follow her as she waddled down the hall to the stairs. I turned back and made frantic motions to Lily indicating that I wasn’t finished with my meal.

  Bobbi Jo had turned the bedroom next to the master suite into a nursery. But next door wasn’t close enough for her so she’d had a doorway installed between the two rooms. On the other side of the nursery was Lily’s bedroom, and Bobbi Jo had installed a doorway between those rooms, as well. This baby wasn’t going to get a minute to her or himself.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  Bobbi Jo had done a great job with the decorating. A multitude of soft greens and beiges blended with pale shades of orange that gave the room a serene atmosphere. The antique reproduction crib was dressed in sheets and a comforter covered with delicate drawings of nursery rhymes. A fluffy, frilly pillow was placed at one end and I made a mental note to remind Bobbi Jo to take the pillow out. It was beautiful, but I guessed Bobbi Jo didn’t know that you never put a newborn in a crib with a pillow. One chest of drawers had been painted a delicate green, and an artist had duplicated some of the pictures on the bedding. The second chest had the same artwork on a light orange base. But Lily had been right when she said Bobbi Jo had bought every baby item she could lay her hands on.