she was a client. The wedding gig came through you. Your third cousin once removed or something?”
“My mother’s uncle’s cousin-by-marriage’s granddaughter. I think. But yeah, I know her. I know everyone, and everyone knows me.”
Could be a stroke of luck, Mac calculated. “Can you stick around for a while? You could help put her at ease.”
“I can give you a little time,” Emma decided after a check of her watch, “mostly because I’m dying to see how you try to get her undressed.”
“Don’t say anything about it,” Mac said quickly when she heard the knock on the door. “I need to guide her toward it.”
Mac’s first thought on opening the door was Wow! Look at the shape. And her mind shot off in various directions on how to exploit it, showcase it, intensify it as she drew Rosa inside.
Having Emma there served as a plus; nobody put people at ease quicker than Emmaline.
“Oh, Rosa, look at you!” All warmth, all welcome, Emma lifted her hands. “You’re gorgeous!”
With a quick laugh, Rosa shook her head while Mac took her coat. “I’m enormous.”
“Gorgeously. Oh, I bet you can’t wait. Let’s sit down for just a minute. Have you picked out names?”
“We keep thinking we have, then change our minds.” With a little whoosh of breath, her hand on the mountain of her belly, Rosa eased into a chair. “Today it’s Catherine Grace for a girl, Lucas Anthony for a boy.”
“Wonderful.”
“You don’t know the sex?” Mac asked.
“We talked ourselves out of it.”
“I love a surprise, don’t you? And it’s exciting to have Mac photograph you now.”
“My sister nagged me into it. I guess, at some point, I’ll appreciate looking back and seeing myself looking like I swallowed a hot air balloon.”
“You’re beautiful,” Mac said simply. “I’m going to show you. Why don’t you stand up here so I can take some test shots? Do you want anything first? Water? Tea?”
Rosa pulled a bottle of water out of her purse. “I drink like a camel, pee like an elephant.”
“Bathroom’s right over there, any time you need it. And any time you just want a break, say so.”
“Okay.” Rosa levered herself out of the chair. “Is my hair all right? This outfit? Everything?”
She’d pulled her dark hair back in a tail—very tidy. Mac intended to fix that. She’d chosen simple black pants and a bright blue sweater that skinned over the mountain. They would, Mac thought, start there.
“You’re fine. Just test shots. See the tape on the floor there? Stand right on the X.”
“I can’t even see my feet.” But Rosa moved to the mark, stood stiffly while Mac checked her light meter.
“Turn to the side, head toward me. Chin up a little, not that much. Yes, put your hands on the baby.” She glanced toward Emma.
Picking up the signal, Emma got up to wander behind Mac. “Have you set up the nursery?”
Emma kept Rosa talking, made her laugh and Mac took the first Polaroid. She rubbed it on her thigh to speed the developing, then, opening it, walked to Rosa. “See? You’re beautiful.”
Rosa took the print, stared. “I may be enormous, but I sure look happy. It’s really pretty, Mac.”
“We’re going to do even better. Let’s try a few in that same pose.”
Warming up now, Mac noted as she chatted Rosa up along with Emma. She tossed in quick directions. Tilt your head to the right, shift your shoulders. Halfway through she handed Rosa one of Emma’s long-stems, tried shots with the flower as a prop.
She got a full roll of what she considered very nice, very ordinary pregnant woman shots.
“Let’s try something else. A different angle, a different top.”
“Oh, I didn’t bring another top.”
“I’ve got something.”
Rosa patted her mound. “You couldn’t possibly have anything that would fit me.”
“It’s not about fit. Trust me.” Mac pulled a plain white man’s shirt out of the prop room. “We’re going to leave it unbuttoned.”
“But—”
“The contrast of the sharp lines of the shirt against the round curve of your belly. Trust me. And if you don’t like the look, no harm.”
“Oh, that’ll be fun.” Emma poured out enthusiasm. “Baby bumps are so cute.”
“I’m at thirty-eight weeks. The bump is Mount Everest.”
“It’s a beautiful shape,” Mac told her. “And you have great skin. The tone, the texture.”
“It’s just us girls,” Emma reminded her. “I’d love to see how it looks. The lighting’s so pretty, so flattering.”
“Well, maybe. But I’m just going to look fat.” Reluctantly, Rosa pulled off the sweater.