“I try to do my part.”
Maddie served the tea and sat down, wondering if she could just broach the baby subject and stop the nonsense. As an EMT, maybe Taylor was trained not to divulge information … except, apparently, to her husband. Then she had an idea.
“I still haven’t seen a gynecologist. At the hospital they mentioned a Dr. Mason. Do you know anything about him?”
Taylor shifted in her seat. “He’s a she. And yes, I know her. Helen Mason. She’s an ob-gyn. Been here a long time. From what I’ve heard, she does a good job.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Taylor sipped her tea.
Maddie saw it as an opportunity to change the subject. “I’m also sorry I don’t have cookies or anything to offer you.”
“When my brother’s around, we get enough baked goods from him. As if running his restaurant isn’t enough, he thinks it’s also his job to provide fresh muffins and scones to half of Chappy.”
“You must miss him.”
“Yes.” She sipped again, then glanced at her watch. “I’d better go. If I see Kevin, I’ll tell him you have the paint samples. Or I can deliver them.” It was obvious she did not want to discuss Rex. For which Maddie was grateful.
“Thanks, but I need Kevin’s advice. I’ve picked the colors, but I’m not sure which ones should go where.”
Taylor stood up. “Okay. Thanks for the tea.” She pulled her knit cap over her mass of hair and retrieved her jacket. “Good luck with Dr. Mason,” she added as she walked toward the front door. “In addition to being a gynecologist, she’s an obstetrician. But I don’t suppose you’ll need one of those.” She went out the front door before Maddie could determine whether the last comment was meant to be funny or sarcastic.
But Maddie had more important things on her mind than to try to analyze Taylor or her motives.
She would start by calling Dr. Mason to schedule an appointment.
Then she’d rent a car so she wouldn’t be stuck in the cottage until hers was fixed; she was told it could take a while because her insurance company was based on the other side of the state, and that Deke’s couldn’t start to work on it until they responded.
Next, she had to figure out the best time—and most effective way—to talk to her father about his phone call with Dan Jarvis.
Last, but certainly not least, she must call Rex and tell him about the baby. Before someone else did.
“Dr. Mason is off-island until the end of March,” a woman who answered the phone said. “I can refer you to someone on the Cape, or I can book you here on, say, April second at one p.m.? You can start taking prenatal vitamins, if you haven’t already. A pharmacist can help you with that.”
April 2nd was six weeks away, later than Maddie had hoped. She did, however, want a Vineyard doctor, rather than be dependent on the ferry—and the weather—to get her back and forth to every appointment. So she quickly accepted, and prayed she and the baby would stay healthy until then, when she’d be a full five-and-a-half months pregnant. Between now and then, she’d have plenty to do. Starting with getting the vitamins, which prompted her to pick up her phone again and track down a rental car; she was told they could deliver one the next morning.
Sitting on the sofa, gazing out at the winter-still harbor, she wondered if she should call Rex before she talked to her father. If she could tell Rex the news, would that help Stephenunderstand? “I have to stay on the island now, Dad,” she could rationalize. “Rex is excited. He’s never had children; I can’t take this one away from him.”
But as she picked up her phone, Stephen opened the back door and walked in. He’d developed a way of doing that at inopportune times.
“I thought you were out,” he said beforehello. “Where’s your car?”
“In the shop. I was in an accident.”
“What?” His voice was knee-jerk sharp. He slipped off his gloves and moved briskly to the sofa before taking off his jacket. “Are you okay?”
“I am, yes. It was a minor thing.” She waved it off, then gave him a condensed version of what happened. “Actually, Dad, I’m more upset about a conversation I overheard yesterday. The one you had with Dan Jarvis.”
With his eyes moving to his hands, he jammed the gloves into his pockets. It was hard to tell if he had paled, because since he’d come back after New Year’s, the once clean-shaven Stephen had grown a neat, salt-and-pepper beard that made his blue eyes stand out, but minimized any pink that might have come to his cheeks.
“Oh,” he said, and stared at the floor.
Maddie riveted her eyes on him. “May I ask what it was about? Other than me?”
He made a small sound like a wounded bird. “It’s complicated.”
“Life’s complicated, Dad. Especially for me right now.”
