LITMIR.BIZ

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still waiting for Molly to admit she’s in love with me. I don’t want anyone else to get too crazy about me in the meantime.”

      “Right,” I said with a laugh. “Have you seen anyone about your delusions? They have medication for that, you know.”

      “‘Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments.’”

      Tony grinned at me and went back to his butter-scotch-walnut sundae.

      Lissy, who had coaxed Geranium to her with a potato chip and was using her as a footstool, inquired, “Why do people always name pigs after flowers? Geranium, Petunia…” She took a swig of her soda.

      “Don’t forget about Miss Piggy,” Tony pointed out. “She’s no flower.”

      “Geranium was named before I got her. If I’d purchased her as a piglet, I would have named her something else.”

      “Like what?” Lissy leaned forward and scratched Geri behind the ear, and Geri grunted in appreciation.

      “Piggy Sue.”

      “I know what I would have named her,” Tony said dreamily.

      We both eyed him warily.

      “Spamela Anderson.”

      A gusher of soda erupted from Lissy’s mouth and she started to cough. Tony helpfully slammed her on the back a few times.

      Fortunately the phone rang, and I was able to leave the Two Stooges to clean up after themselves.

      “Molly? It’s me, Mandie.”

      “Are you…”

      “In labor? No, but the baby is kicking up a storm. I just needed someone to talk to. My roommate is out on a date, and my mom’s not home.”

      “I’m here for you.”

      “I know.” There was a catch in her voice. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

      Sadly, the father of Mandie’s child, the one who should have been present for her, was a sore subject. He was, unfortunately, long gone. She didn’t even know how to reach him. God knew what He was doing when He instructed His children to wait for marriage to be intimate. Mandie is the perfect example of how things can go wrong when kids do it the other way around.

      “What’s been going on?”

      “I can feel the baby’s position in my belly. It’s weird to think of this little person inside me.”

      “It shouldn’t be long now,” I said. “Have you got a bag packed?”

      “Everything on the list you gave me. Are you sure you’ll be here in time?”

      “Call me as soon as you notice anything different and I’ll be there.”

      I often start with the mother at home and travel with her and her husband to the hospital. That leaves a nervous father to pay attention to traffic rather than be distracted by the huffing and puffing in the passenger seat.

      “I feel better now,” Mandie said. “I just needed to hear your voice.”

      “Anytime.”

      “If you ever want me to give you a recommendation or anything, I’ll give you the best one ever.”

      “You haven’t even had the baby yet,” I reminded her.

      “I don’t care. You’ve already saved my sanity.”

      As I returned to the living room, I thought about Dr. Reynolds. If only he would talk to Mandie, maybe he’d change his mind about my profession. Then I recalled the look on his face when he’d first seen me in Brenda’s birthing room. Or maybe not.

      Tony must have read my mind, because as soon as he saw me he said, “I got some scuttlebutt on Dr. Reynolds today.”

      “The Mount Rushmore of doctors?” Lissy sat up a little straighter and Geri trotted off. “Old stone face?”

      “He does have a child, a little boy. The rumor mill was right.”

      “When did he take time off to have a child?”

      I poked Lissy with my finger. “Be nice.”

      “He’s not nice.” She pouted. “Why should I be? I heard him order a midwife to get out of the room when she crossed him today. Fortunately he allowed her back in later, but…”

      There was one lone chip left in the bottom of the bag on the coffee table. I shook it into my hand. “Maybe I could get a loan from the donated money to start a doula center somewhere else if Reynolds nixes it at Bradshaw. That wouldn’t be so bad. I probably wouldn’t need much out of pocket.”

      “Put your own finances into a concept that would be perfect at Bradshaw? I don’t think so. They need you. It’s a wonderful, woman-friendly idea.”

      “We’re covering the same territory again,” I reminded Lissy wearily, tired of talking and getting nowhere.

      I turned to Tony. “A son, huh?”

      “He’s about six years old and his name is Noah. That’s all I know. Apparently Dr. Reynolds is closemouthed about him, too. I wouldn’t even know this but his receptionist let it slip.”

      “Aren’t you dating his receptionist—among others?”

      Tony shrugged helplessly, as if he had no control over his bountiful love life.

      Lissy sighed. “It’s just not fair. All I want is one good man, just one, and Tony has a whole field of flowers to pick from.”

      “‘Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.’ That’s from Twelfth Night.”

      “Maybe I should start quoting poetry. Right now the only way to describe my dating status is ‘This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home.’ Men! Bah, pigs!”

      Geranium, seeming to recognize her species, raised her head and grunted.

      “Sorry, Geri, I didn’t mean to insult you.” Lissy tugged at her hair. “I’ve been stood up twice this week—and not because anyone had a good excuse. I’d break up with the guy, but I feel like I should do it in person and he never shows!”

      Lissy’s love life is the opposite of Tony’s. All the men she meets have issues of one kind or another. Watching Tony and Lissy navigate the dating world is reason enough for me to decide it’s not worth it. Come to think of it, I’m thankful Hank moved to Mississippi. If he hadn’t, we might have drifted into a longer, going-nowhere relationship before we decided we weren’t right for each other.

      “I’d better leave,” Tony said. “Your food is gone, and I have to get up early tomorrow.”

      “Me, too.” Lissy jumped to her feet and gave me a hug. “You’re a peach, Molly.”

      I didn’t say anything, but the way I allow these two to run roughshod over me, I don’t think I’m a fruit at all. I’m a nut.

      Lissy paused at the gigantic bulletin board I keep by my front door. It’s filled with baby pictures my clients have sent me. “Is there anything cuter than this?” She pointed to a chubby baby with three extra chins. “Or this?” Her finger landed on a pair of twins in pink ruffles that threatened to engulf them.

      “You’ve got a great job and a wonderful service to offer,” Tony said as he opened the front door. “We have to figure out a way to execute your idea.”

      Execute. Right. And Dr. Clay Reynolds is running the guillotine.

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