a full-length mirror reflected views of Alcatraz throughout the room. But instead of focusing me on the view, it focused me on the image of me.

I had forgotten to put breast pads inside my bra.

Oh God! What if I leaked!

I pulled the door of the waiting room open and peeked out into the hallway. No trace of the receptionist or anyone else, but a ladies’ room sign was prominent. I made a mad dash into the ladies’ room and quickly pulled some tissues from a box on the marbled counter.

I folded a few sheets of tissue neatly and stuffed them into my bra. The result gave me square breasts.

I pulled the tissues out and tried a single sheet on each side. The padding was not as noticeable. I prayed only one sheet would be enough.

I returned to the waiting room and fiddled with the magazines. The glossy rags depicted yachting, golfing, and travel that I could only dream about. I wondered about Gary’s clientele. Were they all that high-end?

I was totally out of my league. Each magazine I flipped through made me feel worse and worse, until I was a nervous wreck.

What was I doing here?

Women who had sat in this waiting room before me certainly didn’t have tissues stuffed in their bras. Or worse, girdles to hold in their postpartum bellies. And they definitely, definitely didn’t sit here in borrowed designer shoes with the accompanying handbag!

In the midst of my insecurity, the receptionist returned and ushered me into Gary’s office.

The office was enormous, with an astonishing view of the Bay Bridge. I felt as if I could lean out his window and touch traffic.

Gary Barramendi stood when I entered and offered me a warm handshake.

I was suddenly disarmed. He was young. Not what I had been expecting at all. He was very tall. Perhaps six-six. And extremely thin, bordering on gawky. He had dark bushy hair. His features appeared to be pushed together from all different angles and the left side of his face was almost completely different from the right side, yet everything was fused in the middle by his large nose.

Despite his unconventional face and stature, his smile was warm and his handshake firm and friendly, putting me at ease instantly.

“Hey. Gary Barramendi. Nice to meet you. I understand you know Bruce Chambers.”

“Yes.” I shook his hand with my best businesslike handshake and said, “Kate Connolly, pleasure to meet you.”

Gary motioned to the sofa that hugged the left wall of the office. “Have a seat.”

I was starting to feel confident. Gary wasn’t a grizzly! This was going to be a good meeting.

I was channeling my future self. Confident, smart, pro-active.

I was feeling great!

I placed my beautiful burgundy Ferragamo handbag on the couch and took a seat next to it. Suddenly a horrifying loud ripping sound reverberated around the room.

I froze.

The Velcro closing on my girdle had given way. The entire thing came undone under my shirt. The buttons on my silk blouse threatened to pop and the material between each button gapped hideously open.

I moaned and swayed, feeling a bit faint.

Please, please, earth, swallow me whole.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Two’s Better Than One?

Gary cleared his throat. “Kate. There’s a restroom here to the right.” He motioned across the room.

His voice sounded as though it was coming at me through a tunnel. I sat frozen, my mouth agape. I looked up at him with my mouth still open, feeling like a walleye fish.

He smiled. “The restroom’s right there,” he repeated.

“I just had a baby. I bought this stupid girdle thing online. I wanted to look professional . . .”

“A baby? That’s so sweet. Got any pictures?”

“Uh.”

I didn’t have any pictures! Not one.

What kind of mother was I?

I’d left my baby to come on this wild-goose chase in an outfit that didn’t fit. Not only was I a bad mother, but an idiot, too!

Suddenly, tears streamed down my face.

Gary grabbed a box of tissues from his desk and sat next to me. “How old is your baby?”

I swallowed hard and sort of gulped my tears, trying to bring myself back to the present. “Two months.”

Gary nodded sympathetically and handed me the tissue box. “My sister just had a baby. Beautiful little girl. She’s four months. Me? I’m not married, so no kids yet. But man, they are something, huh?”

I nodded, slightly dumbfounded at the kindness of this stranger.

Gary stood and straightened his slacks. “Listen, I’m going to pull Bruce’s file. Take whatever time you need. Should I have Mandy make us some