Finding Summer - Suzanne Halliday Page 0,143

voice filled with disappointment. “Twenty-four years ago when Brigit was going into kindergarten, we bought his place and couldn’t believe how lucky we were to find a nice neighborhood. We all had kids and knew each other. Not anymore, though,” she griped. “The recession in ’08 changed everything. Eventually, kids grow up, and lives move on. Now? Pfft. Perfect strangers.”

After studying Summer for a moment, Lynda brought everything into perspective. “But I guess that’s what makes this place perfect for tucking away.”

“You guys saved me,” she hurried to assure her hobbled friend. “I’ll never be able to repay all you’ve done or thank you enough.”

“You’re a kind soul, Summer. A good girl from everything I’ve seen. What’s happening to you isn’t right. Babies are not commodities, and anyone who thinks otherwise is dangerous.” Lynda patted Summer’s knee. “And there’s nothing to repay. We don’t need compensation for letting you live here. Plus, we never planned to rent the guest house so …” She ended on a shrug.

Summer smiled. And then she mentioned the sleeping dragon in the corner of the room—the one they carefully avoided talking about.

“Bad fracture, elaborate bracing, and a strange knee walker. Physical therapy and a ban on driving for the foreseeable future. Have I covered all the bases?”

Lynda grabbed Summer’s hands and grimaced. “I’m so sorry! My stupid fall makes things more difficult for you. The birth center can’t accommodate the knee walker. I tried pleading, but the director says it’s a liability issue.”

And there it was. Proof positive that the damn universe wanted Summer to be well and truly alone when she needed support the most.

She was going to give birth without anyone meaningful in her life at her side. If this was a test, it was a sucky thing to do.

Lynda’s anguish was deep. Summer knew there wasn’t any way around the realities before them, so for her friend to beat herself up over an accident was just dumb and a waste of time.

“In the words of some generation, maybe mine, maybe not,” Summer joked. “It is what it is. No harm, no foul. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug of acceptance. “I’ll be fine. Everyone at the clinic has been great. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

“I should call Cy and see if Joanne can come down and take my place.”

Summer shook her head. “Her mother was moved into hospice.”

“Oh, shit. I didn’t know.” They shared a heavy sigh, and Lynda murmured, “I’ll send her a card. Something to lift her spirits.”

“That’d be nice.” She struggled as a wave of melancholy seized her.

Lynda’s Hallmark addiction rivaled Summer’s. She was always sending out cards, but except for Reed and the Westmorelands, there was no one in her life to correspond with. She made a brutally clean break when it was time to leave Santa Barbara. She stayed in touch with no one—not even the girls at the restaurant who had been stoked about Summer’s pregnancy. It was the only way to keep her baby safe, but being cut off, socially isolated and emotionally cloistered wasn’t easy.

Suddenly, she was done. It was a nice change to keep each other company while they were on physician mandated restricted activity, but Summer wasn’t in the proper headspace.

Every inch of her body below her neck was sore, bloated, or stretched to capacity. Pregnancy made her boobs big enough to see from outer space. Her hands and fingers were so fat she’d given up wearing jewelry. A goddamn forehead zit was driving her mental. She hadn’t seen her swollen ankles or feet in forever, and because all of that wasn’t enough, she kept losing herself in far-too-real daydreams or crying like a baby for no reason.

The warning lights flashed in her head as she approached maximum density. It was time to waddle back to her place and put in some quality feeling sorry for herself time.

“Nap time for the belly,” Summer groaned to her friend at the same time she tried to stand. Using the arm and back of the sofa for balance, she finally found her feet and stood straight. “That was not graceful,” she said with a self-deprecating snicker.

“I love your top. Did you paint it?”

Summer looked down and grinned. “So here’s what happened. I went to the craft store because I needed something for the baby’s crib corner. I decided to stencil paint pixies and fairies on the wall. While I was there, the sales bins called to me. So did a

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