The Best Of Both Worlds. Elissa Ambrose
a subtle floral pattern. The dresser against the far wall was French country with a rich cherry finish, and above the chest of drawers hung an antique mirror. A queen-size canopy bed, its four posts intricately carved, was draped with exquisite white lace.
“This room is fit for royalty,” Becky said in awe. “Are all the rooms like this?”
“Glad you like it. And yes, all the rooms are done in this style. Believe it or not, I don’t subject everyone who stays here to my hocus-pocus.” She smiled wryly. “And this is the reason I can’t pay you more. I went overboard with the renovations, and now money is tight. I confess I’m not much of a businesswoman. Next time I plan to consult a crystal ball before making changes—oh, I know what you’re thinking, but let me tell you, a crystal ball is far more reliable than the economy. But enough of this financial mumbo-jumbo. On with the tour! Bathroom to the right. In fact, all the rooms have private baths.” She motioned across the room. “Look over there. That alcove will make a wonderful nursery.”
Once again Becky’s mouth dropped open. “You couldn’t have gotten that from my driver’s license. How did you know? Did you see it in my aura?”
Starr laughed. “No special magic. It was the way you were sitting. There’s something about the way a pregnant woman sits, as if her whole center is off balance.”
Now that’s an understatement, Becky thought. In these past few months her whole universe had shifted. “My pregnancy won’t be a problem, will it?” she asked uneasily. “I can work until the last moment, and I’ll only take off a day or two after the delivery.”
“Work until the last minute? Start cooking right after the baby pops out? I don’t think so! I was only kidding about that slavery business—this isn’t ancient Greece, for heaven’s sake. But to answer your question, no, the pregnancy isn’t a problem. On the contrary, it’ll be good karma having a baby in the house. New life means rejuvenation. Now, why don’t you make that phone call while I get the nightshirt?”
Becky waited for Starr to leave, then kicked off her shoes and lay back on the bed. She knew she had to call her mother, but her courage had melted faster than an ice cube in a bowl of hot chicken soup. Why did her mother always make her feel this way? After Jordan walked out, Becky had waited until she was nearly flat broke before breaking the news and returning to Middlewood. When she’d received the final divorce papers, she’d kept that a secret, as well. She hadn’t wanted to be a cloud over David’s wedding, she’d rationalized. Then, when she first suspected she was pregnant, she’d gone about her life as if in a trance, hoping that she would wake up.
And now she was afraid to tell her mother that she was planning to live at Starr’s bed and breakfast. Compared to what Becky had previously kept hidden, this bit of news seemed trivial, but nevertheless she remained rooted to the bed, unwilling to pick up the phone. She could almost hear Gertie’s high-pitched, nasal retort. Imagined her saying, “Not only is that woman not Jewish, she’s meshugeh. You want to live with that crazy?”
Starr returned in a few moments and handed the nightshirt to Becky. On the front was an illustration of a woman in a long, loose gown, and underneath that, Demeter Saves the Earth. “I told you it was perfect. Demeter was the goddess of the harvest, and just like you did in my dream, she brought the winter.”
“Demeter agreed to let her daughter spend half the year with Hades,” Becky said. “When Persephone was away in the underworld, Demeter allowed nothing on the earth to flourish, and that’s how winter and summer came to be.”
Starr let out a gleeful laugh. “I can’t believe you know this! We’re definitely soul sisters. I prayed for someone like you and here you are. We’re going to have a lot of fun, Becky. Just like real sisters.”
At least someone finds me amusing, Becky thought. After Starr left, Becky reached for the phone on the night-stand. Demeter was also known as the goddess of fertility. Gertie just might get a kick out of that.
Right. And the forecast in the underworld was calling for snow.
Carter raised his racquet and delivered a fast, hard serve. David immediately reacted with a low forehand, blasting the ball into the ceiling. Cocking back his racquet like a baseball bat, Carter stepped into the ball after it had bounced, then swung with full force, his well-practiced forehand slamming the ball against the front wall.
“That’s game,” he said when David failed to return the shot. “Looks like married life has sapped the life right out of you, bud.”
“Or maybe I had too much of my grandmother’s cooking last night,” David said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “As for married life, maybe you should think about trying again. Might make you more human.”
Carter picked up the ball and followed David into the locker room. “And maybe you should forget about racquetball and take up croquet. Looks like you’ve lost your edge.”
“Here’s an edge you won’t forget,” David said, pulling a towel from the bin and snapping it against the back of Carter’s knees. “Did you say ‘croquet’? Is that what you do on your dates? Play lawn games? Lost your edge, buddy?”
“You wish. No, I take that back. You’d better hope I don’t lose the old edge—how would you live vicariously?”
Joking amiably, they headed for the showers. Carter turned on the water in his stall and allowed himself to give in to the pain. Every muscle in his body ached as he stood under the biting, hot spray. But it wasn’t the game that had him feeling so sore. He always felt like this the day after flying, and today was no exception. Even though he’d flown first class, his six-foot frame had felt crowded in the seat, his long legs cramped in the tight space.
To top it off, he was exhausted, but like his aching body, his fatigue wasn’t because of the game. Last night he’d lain awake for hours, Becky on his mind. Even though three months had passed since they’d made love, he could still picture her lying in his bed, her long, dark hair spilling down her neck, fanning across her breasts. He forced the memory aside.
After changing back into street clothes, Carter waited in the lobby for David. He thought back to the conversation they’d had earlier that afternoon when he’d called his friend, asking him to meet him on the courts. It had been tough convincing him to come out for a game. Saturday was the Jewish day of rest, but Carter knew that David’s reluctance had nothing to do with religion. He knew it was because of Hannah. Marriage did that, he recalled. It changed a man.
Five minutes later David emerged from the locker room. “Still here, Pres? No date?”
Carter laughed. “It’s still early. I’ve still got time.”
“Translated, that means no date. What was it you said about losing the edge? As for me, I don’t even remember having one. It’s been a while since I played the dating game.”
Carter flung his sports bag over his shoulder and followed his friend out the front door. “You don’t remember it because it never existed. You and Hannah have been together forever.” He looked at David questioningly. “Kidding aside, Roth, do you ever regret not playing the field?”
David hesitated. “There was this one time, after Hannah and I had an argument. I went to a bar. The woman was a stranger, no more to me than a face in a crowd. She was a nurse, I think. Worked at Danbury Hospital.”
Carter looked at his friend with surprise, not just because of what David had said, but because he’d never mentioned it. Then again, Carter wasn’t exactly an open book himself. Some things he preferred not to talk about; others were best left unsaid. Like the events surrounding his divorce. Or what happened between him and Becky.
Although he was reluctant to probe, curiosity got the better of him. He didn’t want to believe that David could cheat on Hannah. “What happened?” he asked, hoping the answer would be what he wanted to hear.
“Nothing. We had a few drinks, and that was all. But sometimes I find myself wondering about that night, about how things might have changed if something