Elm Creek Quilts [09] Circle of Quilters by Jennifer Chiaverini Page B

years—”
    “—that’s what a diet of junk food does to children—”
    “—someone needs a parenting class—”
    “yes, a lesson on how to redirect negative impulses—”
    After the moment Karen needed to realize the women were talking about her, she scooped up Lucas, yanked open the door to the locker room, and ducked inside. The door closed too slowly to block out the derisive laugher she had left behind. “Stupid, gossipy bi—” Just in time, she remembered Lucas’s rapidly developing vocabulary and clamped her mouth shut around the word.
    This was not the first time she had earned outright disdain from mothers like these, women who managed to handle, apparently effortlessly, the tasks of motherhood and look good doing it. They made their own baby food from organically grown fruits and vegetables. They wore white cashmere twinsets knowing their children would never dream of spitting up on them. They had shiny hair and manicures and wore their prepregnancy clothes within six weeks of their deliveries. They found time to iron. Their children had never tasted a trans-fatty acid. They read all the current books and articles on the latest trends in child development. Having stepped off the fast track for the noble art of motherhood, they pursued their new profession the way they had once pursued advanced degrees and corner offices. They scorned and pitied mothers who stuck their kids in day care and regarded with bewilderment mothers such as Karen’s best friend Janice, mother of four with one on the way, who seemed not to know when to say when, and Karen, scattered and disorganized and unable to pullherself together. When Karen had resigned from her job within a week of returning from her eight-week maternity leave, she had tried to befriend such women at Kindermusik and library story hour, but they smelled her desperation and gave her polite but chilly rebuffs. They did not know that she had once been as successful and confident as they. What was it about motherhood that made her doubt everything she had once admired about herself?
    “One, Mama?” offered Lucas, holding a gnarled orange twig of Cheeto to her mouth.
    “No, thank you.” She redirected the offering and looked up at a sudden movement in the mirror. On the other side of the locker room, a smiling, slender woman in a perfectly tailored suit turned away from a locker, a gym bag slung jauntily over her shoulder. Karen nearly choked. With Lucas balanced on her hip, she swiftly turned toward the nearest locker, ducked her head, and spun the dial as if she knew the combination.
    The click of black pumps on concrete paused beside her. “Karen?”
    Reluctantly, Karen turned around. “Oh, hi, Lucy.”
    “Karen! I can’t believe it’s you.” Lucy’s makeup was flawless, and she looked well rested and refreshed. Karen dimly remembered feeling like that once, long, long ago. “You’re looking—” Lucy sized up Karen in a swift glance. “Wow! How long has it been?”
    Karen rose and instinctively tucked loose strands of hair behind her ears. “Um … almost five years now. Four and a half.”
    “It’s hard to believe it’s been so long.” Lucy smiled at Lucas. “He’s gotten so big! Is something wrong, little guy? You look sad.”
    Karen took in his tear-streaked face and runny nose and cringed. “This is actually my youngest, Lucas. You met my older son, Ethan.”
    “You had another one! How great is that? Two boys. He is just so cute.” Lucy pressed a hand to her chest, as if it ached from adoration. “You know, every time I see all the precious little girlclothes at Neiman Marcus, I think I should have a baby, too.”
    Karen nodded, her face straining from the effort of maintaining a pleasant expression. Why couldn’t she have taken five more minutes before leaving the house to fix her hair and put on makeup? “So, how have you been? Are you still seeing Eric?”
    “Eric?” Lucy laughed. “You
have
been gone a while. I