The Beach House (18 page)

There was a short rap on the door and then it was opened. A young man and woman entered. Their clothing suggested they were emergency medical workers.

Jo chuckled. “Sorry, guys. You missed the fun part.”

The woman grinned. “Aww nuts. I wanted to deliver the baby.”

“Nothing like it, is there?” Then to Maria, “It’s okay, sweetheart. This isn’t as hard as the first part.”

The medic asked, “Are you the doctor?”

“Yeah.” Jo was intent on her work. “We’re fine.”

“Okay. We’ll just wait until you’re ready to transport.” They left the room.

Andie went back to smiling at Maria. “Can I see her?”

She nodded.

Andie lifted a corner of the blanket. The baby mewed, her eyes shut, nose and forehead wrinkled as if she frowned. One hand was clutched in a tiny fist. She had a head full of dark hair.

“Maria, she is beautiful.”

“What is your name?” the teenager whispered.

“Andie.”

“Andie?”

From her puzzled expression, Andie assumed she had not heard of it. Perhaps the masculine
Andy
was familiar to her. “It’s short for Andrea.”

“Andrea.” The girl’s Hispanic accent rolled the
r
, put more emphasis on the second syllable, and added an
h
sound before the
a
. She looked down at her newborn. “Andrea. Andrea. Maria’s baby.”

“What?”

“I name the baby Andrea.”

“What?” Andie heard perfectly well what Maria said, but it made no sense.

Jo said, “She named the baby after you.”

“Nah.”

“Mrs. Sinclair, it’s a tribute. Just accept it and say thank you.”

Andie recalled Molly giving Jo similar advice about receiving a compliment.

Maria smiled at her.

“But,” Andie protested, “Jo did all the work, hon. The doctor. Jo. Josephine. Maybe Josephina? Isn’t that pretty?”

The teen gave a slight shake of her head. “Andrea.”

Andie heard a determined, womanly nuance to the child’s voice. Evidently a baby had just been named after Andrea Sinclair.

And she thought riding ocean waves was a blast.

As she left the clinic with her friends, Andie was surprised that twilight had already fallen. They crossed the dusky street to Jo’s car.

Jo said, “Char, I’m way too jazzed to drive. Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

“Thanks. The restaurant’s not far.” Jo gently tossed her keys to her and grabbed Andie’s arm. “And thank you again. You made all the difference in there. I never could have gotten Maria to work with me like that.”

Andie smiled. She had heard the praise countless times already.“It was so awesome.” Nearly as high as Jo, she had reiterated her own phrase over and over. No other words sufficed.

Jo strode in a figure eight around and between them. “And thank you, Molly and Char, for being so patient.”

Char laughed.“How do you know we were patient?”

“You didn’t leave.”

“Like we had a choice?”

Molly said,“The truth is, Char went outside and documented three drug deals. I myself was a basket case.”

“A basket case?” Jo asked. “I thought you were praying. I was counting on the Molly Effect!”

“I prayed and then something snapped. I don’t know.”

Jo scooted to her side and pressed a hand to her forehead. “We’ve got to get you some hormones, dear.”

They reached the car and climbed into it, laughing. Char and Molly complained good-naturedly about the long wait. Andie had paid no attention to time, only to the fact that she and Jo lingered with Maria and the baby. The baby. Baby Andrea. Her cheeks ached from grinning.

Jo refused to interrupt the bonding hour between mother and daughter or to let Maria out of her sight until she was convinced of her stability. Besides that, they took time for a photo shoot. Andie’s digital camera, now tucked safely back into her handbag, held almost a dozen pictures. Baby and mommy. Baby and Jo. Baby and Gertie. Baby and EMTs. Baby and Andie. And, of course, baby by herself for Jo’s wall.

From the backseat, Andie reached over and squeezed Jo’s shoulder. “Josephine, you literally stopped a corner of the world to welcome that baby into it, didn’t you? I mean, you kept Char and Molly, medics, and a roomful of sick people waiting.”

Jo raised a fist in the air. “Woo! I did!” She twisted around in her seat to face the back. “And it felt so incredibly tremendous. Not that part, but the part where I didn’t panic. And the part where I just sat down with Maria and asked how she was doing. Thank you for praying, Moll. And you for being patient, Char. And Andie—”

“You’re welcome already!” Andie laughed.

“And you, Andrea,” Jo rolled the
r
and poised her hand for a high five, “you had a baby named after you.”

Andie slapped Jo’s hand. “Woo! Yes, I did!”

Char started the car. “Where to, Jo?”

“The Chicken Pie Shop.” She laughed again. “You are going to absolutely hate it.”

Jo’s prediction more or less came to pass. There was not much to like about the Chicken Pie Shop except the prices, a waitress who called them “honey,” and—in Andie’s opinion—the yummy mashed potatoes and gravy.

“But,” Andie said, “it’s the kind of place you love to hate.”

The table nearly jiggled with the ensuing laughter. Jo’s excitement was contagious. Their guffaws grew more raucous at every discovery in the large, noisy, 1960s-era diner.

Jo said, “Exactly. It’s just so
campy
. I mean, the chicken decor is hysterical. Char, you are a good egg.” She clapped her hands.“Egg! Get it?”

The others booed.

“Anyway,” Jo continued, “I know this is driving you nuts.”

Ever gracious, Char smiled sweetly. “Sugar, I’m just trying to catch up with you all.”

Jo scrunched her nose in reply.

Char didn’t miss a beat.“I think my mama knew someone who once ate in a place like this.”

Andie’s mouthful of soda nearly sprayed up and out through her nose.

Molly dropped her fork and doubled over.

Jo groaned. “You are going to make me pay tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“Big time. But just think of all the money you saved tonight by coming here. Who could have imagined buying an entire meal for under five dollars? Color me flabbergasted.”

With a straight face, Jo said,“Yes, it is amazing, isn’t it? Potpie, potatoes and gravy, coleslaw, veggies, rolls,
and
a slice of pie, your choice. All for one low, low price.”

“Well, hon, I’m not sure it’s worth any more than that one low, low price.” Char fluffed her short blond hair. “I swear, if I can’t fit into my regular size tomorrow while trying on an outfit in some exclusive Rodeo Drive boutique, heads will roll.” She paused.“Tell me again, what kinds of pie do they offer here?”

Jo grinned.“Like I said, you are a good egg. And you too, Miss Vegetarian. Are you all right?”

Molly’s smile seemed forced. “Sure. No.” She continued sliding poultry chunks from the potpie and piling them to one side of her plate.

“You’re green.”

“I’m fine. Just a little queasy. It might be the smell.”

Grease dominated the restaurant’s odors, a homey combination of fried chicken, roasting beef, and simmering soups.

Andie said,“I know the three of you have more discriminating tastes than I do, but I think the food is rather good. Well, the boiled veggies are a bit overdone. But the rolls and potatoes are great, and this pastry crust around the potpie is yummy. Oh, dear.” She laid down her fork. “It’s comfort food, isn’t it?”

Jo laid a hand on hers.“Are you eating because you need to be comforted?”

“Hardly. Being in on that birth was the most exciting thing I’ve ever done. Not counting having my own kids, that is. No, I think I’m eating because I’m hungry and there was nothing else to order.”

Jo squeezed her hand now. “Then just enjoy it, hon.”

She picked her fork up again. “Okay. Besides, I can surf it off tomorrow.”

Jo raised her coffee cup. “Here’s to adventure.” The others clinked a glass or cup to hers as she said, “To good friends. To celebrating this birthday twice.” Tears seeped from her eyes and onto her cheeks.“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you three.”

And right there, in the middle of the Chicken Pie Shop while ordering cherry pie a la mode, Jo made up for the dozen years she had not wept.

Molly sat with Jo at their usual breakfast table on Kono’s patio overlooking the ocean. The early morning mist hung, thicker than she had seen it. Like actors on a stage, surfers, seagulls, and newspaper-reading patrons occupied their customary places.

Molly savored a black-bean-and-egg burrito, a welcome relief to her stomach still unsure about the previous night’s potpie with chicken-based sauce and the unfiltered tap water. Fresh salty air erased traces of grease odors that had lingered in her nose through the night.

“It’s what I want.” Jo smiled.

The scene might not have changed, but Jo had. She did not wear sunglasses. Her eyes were puffy—and sparkling. A new, distinct glow emanated from her. She was steadily working her way through an entire order of pancakes, sausage, and eggs instead of half a plain bagel.

Molly said, “You’re talking about the clinic.”

“Yes. I want to spend the rest of my life in that place, caring for those people.”

“That was my guess yesterday. You seemed so totally at home there.”

“I was at home, even before I talked with Maria. Maybe that’s why I cried.
Finally
, after twelve years.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I felt this rush of relief, like after a long, long absence I’d found my way home.” She grinned. “But maybe that was just the overload of carbs pouring comfort into my bloodstream.”

“Now don’t talk yourself out of it, Doctor. You turned a major corner last night. You know as well as I do the cleansing effect of tears.”

Jo chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Yeah. I suppose your God had something to do with that too.”

Molly winked at her. Yes, of course God had something to do with healing Jo’s bottled up pain. Her friend never had taken her word for it, though. The seed was planted long ago. She let the matter rest, confident Jo’s softening heart was fertile ground.

Molly said, “So now what?”

“I want to shop in baby stores today and buy everything Maria could possibly need or want for her little one. I wonder if they have baby stores on Rodeo Drive?”

“Char probably knows. But Jo, I’m talking about your work. What do you want to do after this sabbatical?”

“I just said it. I want to work in the clinic full-time.” She took her last bite of pancake. “Open another space adjacent to it for women.”

Molly heard hesitation in her tone. “But?”

Jo chewed, swallowed, and sipped coffee before answering. “You saw my house. My office. You just heard me say I want to spend a fortune on designer baby clothes and accesories for an underprivileged teenage mother.”

Molly waited.

Jo drained her coffee cup and, after a moment, sighed.“Don’t you see, Moll? I like money too much. I always have. The clinic would pay a pittance, not enough to invest, not enough for a Del Mar house mortgage, not enough for a gas-guzzling SUV, not enough for boutiques and specialty shops. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve set foot inside a chain discount store.”