William Maurits’s sedan, and Mariano’s Jeep. Indeed, the only car still there was an older model Ford Taurus station wagon, gold colored, parked over in the corner. I spied a child seat in the back, so I guessed it must belong to Robin and Benjamin. Everyone else, it seemed, had gone to work or school. Even Miss Shaw’s curtains hung quietly for once.
We spent the first part of the day taking down the kitchen cabinets. It’s a two-person job, since someone has to hold the cabinet while the other person unscrews the screws holding it to the wall. If not, the cabinet will fall and hit someone on the head. Derek held while I unscrewed, and I won’t deny that I enjoyed watching the play of muscles in his arms under the short sleeves of the T-shirt as he wrestled with the cabinets. I may even have taken a little longer than I should to unscrew a few of the upper ones, just because I was distracted by the view.
Once the cabinets were down and stacked in the bed ofthe truck, along with yesterday’s bathroom cabinet and sink, we left for a while, to drop the spoils off at the local reuse center, where someone else might have use of them, and to grab a couple of Derek’s favorite lobster rolls.
We were sitting there, on orange plastic benches facing one another across an orange plastic table, when the door to the street opened and Jill Cortino maneuvered herself inside.
Peter Cortino’s wife and Derek’s high school sweetheart is a plump, slightly frumpy, somewhat plain woman in her mid-thirties, with blond hair and blue eyes. Between Derek, who’s gorgeous, and Peter, who looks like a Roman statue, she’s managed to snag two of the best-looking men Waterfield has to offer. The reason for that is personality. She’s one of the nicest, most genuine people I’ve ever met, and it’s frankly a little surprising to me that Derek, after dating Jill, would even look twice at Melissa, who’s downright stunning but nowhere near as nice.
Anyway, Peter and Jill have been married for seven years, and have three kids plus one on the way. Peter Junior is six, Paul is five, and Pamela is two and a half. And Jill is about to burst. When she stopped beside our table and we invited her to sit, she put a hand against her back and puffed like a beached whale. “I won’t fit.”
She was right, she wouldn’t. There wasn’t enough room between the orange bench and the edge of the orange table for a nine-months-pregnant stomach.
“You’re enormous,” Derek said, getting to his feet to pull a plastic chair over from another table and carefully lowering her into it. “Are you sure there’s only one baby in there?”
Jill swatted him. “Yes, there’s only one. And no woman likes to hear that she’s enormous.”
“You’re beautiful.” He kissed her cheek, and Jill gave him a crooked smile.
“You’re too charming for your own good, Ellis. Always have been.” She winked at me. “How are you doing, Avery? Getting everything ready for the wedding?”
I told her I was fine, and yes, things were coming together.
“The invitation was beautiful,” Jill said, making herself comfortable on the hard chair. “Where did you find it? I’d love to have some of that paper for birth announcements or shower gift thank-yous or something.”
I told her I’d made the invitations myself. “When we’re both recovered”—Jill from labor and sleepless nights, and I from getting married—“we can get together sometime and I’ll show you how.”
“I’d like that,” Jill said. “Maybe I can make the invitations to Poppy’s christening.”
“Is that the name you’ve chosen? Poppy?”
Last time I’d asked, they hadn’t been able to decide between Penelope, Piper, and Portia. My joking suggestion of Petunia hadn’t even made the first cut, and Poppy hadn’t been in the running, as far as I could recall. But it was another P-name, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
“I wanted to call her Lucia,” Jill confessed.
We spent the first part of the day taking down the kitchen cabinets. It’s a two-person job, since someone has to hold the cabinet while the other person unscrews the screws holding it to the wall. If not, the cabinet will fall and hit someone on the head. Derek held while I unscrewed, and I won’t deny that I enjoyed watching the play of muscles in his arms under the short sleeves of the T-shirt as he wrestled with the cabinets. I may even have taken a little longer than I should to unscrew a few of the upper ones, just because I was distracted by the view.
Once the cabinets were down and stacked in the bed ofthe truck, along with yesterday’s bathroom cabinet and sink, we left for a while, to drop the spoils off at the local reuse center, where someone else might have use of them, and to grab a couple of Derek’s favorite lobster rolls.
We were sitting there, on orange plastic benches facing one another across an orange plastic table, when the door to the street opened and Jill Cortino maneuvered herself inside.
Peter Cortino’s wife and Derek’s high school sweetheart is a plump, slightly frumpy, somewhat plain woman in her mid-thirties, with blond hair and blue eyes. Between Derek, who’s gorgeous, and Peter, who looks like a Roman statue, she’s managed to snag two of the best-looking men Waterfield has to offer. The reason for that is personality. She’s one of the nicest, most genuine people I’ve ever met, and it’s frankly a little surprising to me that Derek, after dating Jill, would even look twice at Melissa, who’s downright stunning but nowhere near as nice.
Anyway, Peter and Jill have been married for seven years, and have three kids plus one on the way. Peter Junior is six, Paul is five, and Pamela is two and a half. And Jill is about to burst. When she stopped beside our table and we invited her to sit, she put a hand against her back and puffed like a beached whale. “I won’t fit.”
She was right, she wouldn’t. There wasn’t enough room between the orange bench and the edge of the orange table for a nine-months-pregnant stomach.
“You’re enormous,” Derek said, getting to his feet to pull a plastic chair over from another table and carefully lowering her into it. “Are you sure there’s only one baby in there?”
Jill swatted him. “Yes, there’s only one. And no woman likes to hear that she’s enormous.”
“You’re beautiful.” He kissed her cheek, and Jill gave him a crooked smile.
“You’re too charming for your own good, Ellis. Always have been.” She winked at me. “How are you doing, Avery? Getting everything ready for the wedding?”
I told her I was fine, and yes, things were coming together.
“The invitation was beautiful,” Jill said, making herself comfortable on the hard chair. “Where did you find it? I’d love to have some of that paper for birth announcements or shower gift thank-yous or something.”
I told her I’d made the invitations myself. “When we’re both recovered”—Jill from labor and sleepless nights, and I from getting married—“we can get together sometime and I’ll show you how.”
“I’d like that,” Jill said. “Maybe I can make the invitations to Poppy’s christening.”
“Is that the name you’ve chosen? Poppy?”
Last time I’d asked, they hadn’t been able to decide between Penelope, Piper, and Portia. My joking suggestion of Petunia hadn’t even made the first cut, and Poppy hadn’t been in the running, as far as I could recall. But it was another P-name, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
“I wanted to call her Lucia,” Jill confessed.
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