Fed Up - By Jessica Conant-Park & Susan Conant Page 0,24
cater the shower, right?”
“No. He got Gavin to give him the day of the wedding off so he can cater it, but Gavin wouldn’t give him another Saturday, too.” To maintain the illusion of illness, I pretended to blow my nose.
“Well, darn it, Josh works so hard at that restaurant! You’d think that this Gavin would have the sense to keep his executive chef happy. Anyhow, we can handle the food. The shower won’t be that big. Is Adrianna excited?”
“Very. Mom, she is so overwhelmed by everything you and Dad are doing for her. Thanks again.” My parents’ help meant as much to me as it did to Ade and Owen.
“Of course. We’d do anything for them. With the baby coming in a few weeks, the last thing they need to worry about is trying to pay for a wedding. And I can’t stand the idea a tiny civil ceremony with no real celebration to go along with it. We wouldn’t have it any other way. So let’s talk food!”
We finalized the menu for Saturday’s shower. I hung up feeling guilty for feigning a cold, but if I’d told my mother about Francie’s death, we’d’ve had a whole long conversation that I didn’t feel like having right now. And all this wedding talk was so fun! While making all these plans over the past few months, I’d spent my fair share of time fantasizing that I was planning my own wedding to Josh. Not that I was expecting an engagement anytime soon, but it seemed like marriage could be a possibility for the two of us.
As soon as I’d put down the phone, it rang again. I looked at the caller ID window and saw the dreaded words Private Call. Answering the phone when caller ID had picked up no information about the incoming call was risky: for all I knew, I’d be stuck talking to someone who’d coerce me into responding to a long survey about tile cleaning products or about my infomercial-watching preferences.
“Hello?” I said tentatively.
“Hi. Why aren’t you selling rain barrels? Do you want to come over?” Phew. It was Adrianna, whose new number was still unlisted. I’d have to get on her about having her number published, or I’d be missing a lot of calls.
“I’m playing hooky. Yeah, let me just throw on some clothes, and I’ll be over soon.”
When Ade and Owen had moved in together last spring, I’d been glad that their apartment was within walking distance of my place. Today, I actually wished that Adrianna lived a bit farther away than she did, because a good, long walk would’ve helped shake off some of yesterday’s tragedy. I tossed on a pair of gray yoga pants (not that I actually did yoga) and a white top, and yanked my hair into a ponytail. Knowing that Adrianna wouldn’t have any caffeinated coffee, I filled a travel mug with my own and left to see my incredibly enlarging friend. On the way, I resolved not to make any more jokes about how many babies she was carrying. Quads? Are you sure it’s not at least triplets? Well, I’d try very hard not to. The last time I’d made a joke about multiple births, she’d thrown a stuffed bear at me. Next time it could be something painful, like a bottle warmer or a diaper bin.
Like me, Ade and Owen lived on the top floor of a house. Trudging up the stairs to their place, I once again lamented the steepness of the steps my friends would have to manage with a baby. Now, while she was pregnant, Ade needed to stop for a break when she climbed the stairs, but once she had a baby or toddler in her arms, the staircase would become perilous. At least the apartment looked attractive. It was minuscule but charming, with hardwood floors and original molding around the doors and windows.
I knocked on the door while simultaneously opening it and announcing my arrival. “Ade?”
The heavenly smell in the apartment made me suspect that Adrianna was once again cooking. Now that Ade had stopped work, she was doing the whole nesting thing: she spent most of her time organizing and reorganizing the apartment, baking decadent cakes with elaborate icing, and putting together scrapbooks using strange craft tools I’d never seen before.
“Hi, Chloe. Come in,” my friend called.
I stepped into the hallway and into the bright living room-kitchen area. All I could see of Adrianna was her backside popping out from the