“Oh, for f—Pete’s sake.” Anne bounced the baby gently, trying not to be exasperated. Brooke had been gone for, what, all of thirty seconds? “Kaisley. Come on. Cut me a break.”
Kaisley’s cry rose into a shriek. She was already red-faced from the effort, squalling out her fury and fear.
Anne tried to remember how to comfort and soothe. Had she ever known? Thirty-one years ago, she’d let this baby’s mother scream it out in her crib behind the nursery’s closed door. They’d both been so frightened.
“Kaisley,” she said again, rubbing her back, and began to walk in the direction of the bedroom. Babies liked being walked, didn’t they? Claire had. “Shhh. Shhhh. It’s fine. There’s nothing to be scared about. She’s coming back. She’s coming back for you. I promise.”
But Kaisley didn’t know that, did she? Her mother was gone, with no guarantee of return, and now Kaisley was all alone, with only a stranger to keep her company. You’d cry. Of course you would.
“You’ve never been to my house before, have you?” Anne kept her voice gentle and bright. “I’m an awful host for not showing you around. I know. I know. That’s right. Come on. Can you open your eyes, Kaisley? Can you see my bedroom? All the pretty furniture your Grandma Anne picked out? I have my faults, God knows, but taste sure isn’t one of them.”
Gulping in air, Kaisley continued to wail against Anne’s chest, coughing up a chain of hiccuped sobs.
“I’ll choose not to take that as criticism. Look, here’s my bed, and my nightstand, and my dresser.” She didn’t think about the words tumbling out of her mouth, just prattled on and on to cut through Kaisley’s cries. “See those flowers? I like to keep flowers there. And sometimes, Sadie comes in to take one or twofor herself. I pretend it annoys me, but, really, it makes me so happy. Yes, it does. You know, maybe in a couple of years, you’ll be calling her Grandma Sadie. What do you think about that? Isn’t it—hey, ouch—”
Kaisley was pulling on one of Anne’s earrings, the tug of her fist surprisingly strong. Sobs still hiccuped out of her throat, and her round cheeks were streaked with tears, but the new discovery was proving to be an effective distraction.
Anne freed a hand, shifting Kaisley into her other arm as she did, and carefully extracted the earring from the baby’s fist. “These are mine,” she told her, then amended, “Well, not mine. They’re really Sadie’s earrings. But for right now, they’re mine. Just until I see her again, and then I’m going to give them back to her because I won’t need them anymore. I’ll have the real thing.”
Why in God’s name was Anne telling a baby all this? It was pointless. Just nervous babble, no better or more coherent than what was coming out of Kaisley’s mouth.
And just as Anne’s face began to warm with self-consciousness, she noticed Kaisley’s focused expression. With brimming blue eyes, the baby was staring intently at the earring, as though, for at least a few moments, it was the world to her.
This child knew something about need. That might be all Anne’s granddaughter understood, as a matter of fact: how to need. Warmth, a full belly, someone to hold her, something to grab onto and touch.
Kaisley’s hiccups were fewer now, her tears gone. She palmed at Anne’s cheek, near the earring, and didn’t need language to talk.I want. I want.
She wasn’t grabbing this time, and so Anne, looking down at her, said quietly, “All right, little one. You need to hold that for a minute? Is that what you need? Well. That’s all right, then. I can share.”
* * *
By quarter to two, Sadie still hadn’t arrived, even though her flight had landed at LAX almost three hours earlier. Everyone else—James and Arthur, Dan and the boys, Claire, Hal and Talisha—had made it on time, or close. Claire had even shown up just ten minutes late, which for her was arriving early.
“Sadie texted us when she left the airport,” Talisha told Anne in response to the very calm and not at all anxious question Anne had asked. “Apparently, there’s some really important errand she had to stop and take care of first. She’ll be here soon, don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried,” Anne said automatically, and promptly spilled several drops of her cranberry-lime Italian soda on the living room rug. At least it was clear.
She wasn’t worried, not really. Just on edge. But annoyance played at the edges of Anne’s jitters, too. Why hadn’t Sadie shown up when she was supposed to? What errand could be more important than their reunion?
“Sadie’s late, huh?” Claire joined Anne and Talisha, signature cocktail in hand. It was Anne’s personal creation—a raspberry-lemon spritzer named Tart From Scratch—and after she’d mixed the ingredients, she’d promptly stationed herself far away from temptation. “Hey, nice flower crown, Mom.”
“Today of all days.” Anne reflexively touched the flower crown, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice and doing a poor job of it. “You’d think she’d be on time.”
“Mom,” Claire said gently. “I’m sure there’s a good reason she’s delayed.”
“Okay, but—”
“Hear me out. What if you just tried assuming the best about Sadie’s intentions instead of assuming the worst? If you’re going to be in a—” Claire glanced quickly at Talisha.
“Hal told me,” Talisha informed Anne. “Not much, just that something, ah, romantic happened between you. He told me you and Sadie said you were okay with me knowing. I hope he got that right?”
“He did,” Anne reassured her.
Talisha visibly relaxed. “Well, I think it’s great, by the way. For both of you. You’re good for her.”
Anne heard what Talisha didn’t say, that now, with Sadie and Anne together in a way they’d never been before, Hal might not worry about his mother as much. “We’re good for each other,” she corrected.
“See? You know that Sadie’s good for you,” Claire interjected. “And I’m sure she’ll be here any second. So maybe you could focus on all of that instead. Trust me, it’ll make you a lot happier than if you fixate on her being late.”