She nods and climbs into one of the chairs. “Can we sleep here tonight?”
“Not tonight. I have to sign some papers and stuff first. What do you think? Should we let Ms. Dollie know we want to stay?”
Winnie nods excitedly.
“So?” Dollie asks when we get back downstairs. “What did she think?
“She loved it. We would love to rent it for the summer if it’s available.”
“Oh, it definitely is. Just write down your email. You keep the key and just move in whenever you need. I’ll have Tanner send ya the rental info. He’s the one who got it online just a few weeks ago.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah, he said if I wanted to actually make money on it then I needed to geton the line.” She shrugs. “So really, he’s online for me, and I gave him my chickens as a thank you. And now he’s bringing me renters too. He’s a good guy, that Tanner Auclair.”
“He is,” I agree and spot the twinkle of some sort of knowing in her eyes. “Thank you, again.”
The local YMCA is a fraction of the size of the one back home. This one also looks like it hasn’t been updated in at least thirty years. There’s a woman about my age working behind the desk with her Y issued polo shirt. Her name tag is crooked. Riley.
“Can I help you?” she asks, chipper as a camp counselor should be.
“Uh, yes. I'm here to sign my daughter up for the summer program.”
The woman’s smile falls. “The program is full. I can put her on the waitlist if you’d like but?—”
“Tanner Auclair said?—”
“Oh.” Her eyes pop open now. “You must be Winnie then.”
She shuffles through some papers and pulls out a blankenrollment form. “She can start Monday. Just bring clothes you can move in and a water bottle. What size shirt is she? It’s included in her program fee.”
“Youth small. How much is the program fee?” I pull out my wallet, but the woman smiles.
“It’s all taken care of.” She hands me an information packet. “Any allergies we should be aware of?”
“Seafood. She’ll have an EpiPen in her bag. And I’ll bring an extra just in case. What do you mean it’s taken care of?”
“Seafood,” she scribbles down. “EpiPen in bag. Got it. It was taken care of when her spot was reserved for her. This packet here has just about has every bit of information you’ll need. Schedules, activities, all of that. She will be in Mrs. Maryanne’s group with the other five-year-olds. My own daughter is in that group. I will make sure to find you on Monday to introduce you.”
“Thank you so much,” I tell her. “We will see you guys on Monday.”
“Mommy, I get a shirt!” Winnie squeals as she holds my hand and skips through the parking lot.
“Yes, you do.” I fight the prickle of happy tears when I see the smile on her face as she crawls into her seat.
Back at the cabin, Lauren is cooking and looks substantially less green.
“How did the doctor’s appointment go?” I ask gingerly.
“Great. I’m measuring at just about five weeks.” Lauren hands the spoon to Rhett and grabs the ultrasound that’s being held to the fridge by a Lac Dunes magnet. It’s hardly recognizable as a real baby. But it’s there. I hold the little black and white photograph, identical to the one that once dashed my hopes for my future. “I’m due on Valentine’s Day. Are you crying?”
I laugh. “You’re having ababy!”
Lauren then bursts into laughing tears with me. “I can’t believe that’s inside of me right now.”
“Let me see.” Winnie squeezes her way into our hug and peers at the black and white film.
“That little bean is inside my belly right now.”
