“I’ve decided to keep it. The baby,” I said.
“Oh, honey.” Meg hugged me tight. “You’ll be a wonderful mom.”
“You think?” I asked, almost shyly.
“I know. Look at you with these two. Auntie Jo.” She pulled back, smiling. “Maybe you’re more like Mom than you thought.”
“Right. Both of us knocked up.”
Her mouth fell open. I snickered. She giggled. And then we were snorting and gasping with laughter, clutching each other for balance, collapsing against the car. The twins stopped their play to watch us.
“I should go,” Meg said, straightening up.
I nodded. “Good luck with your meeting today.”
She flashed another smile. “Thanks.”
“There are a couple restaurants who are interested in our cheese,” I told her. “You think you could meet with them?”
“You should do it. You know what they’re looking for.”
I didn’t see Michael Burdette from Squeal seeking my input, but I nodded anyway. It wasn’t fair to make Meg do all the work.
“Or...” Meg hesitated.
“Or?”
“We could do it together,” Meg said.
“Sisters’ Farm,” I said.
“Sisters’ Farm.” Meg smiled. “Sounds good to me.”
“Me, too.”Togethersounded even better.
John says you’re keeping the baby,” Trey said when I answered the door that night.
“Hello to you, too,” I joked.
His expression didn’t change in the porch light. “Can I come in?”
“Sure. Want some soup?” The flood of sympathy casseroles had dried up once my father moved out, but I’d left a big pot of minestrone simmering on the stove. The smell of Tuscan beans, thyme, and tomatoes filled the downstairs.
“I’m not here for dinner.”
I stepped back. “Come in anyway.” I led the way to the kitchen.
“Have you told the father?” Trey asked.
I lifted the lid off the soup. “Not yet.”
“You need someone to take care of you,” Trey said. “You and the baby.”
I stirred. “Not your job.”
“It could be.” His tone was uncharacteristically grim. Resolute.
I turned. His face was pale, his eyes very dark.
