Susan Mallery Fool's Gold Series Volume One: Chasing Perfect\Almost Perfect\Sister of the Bride\Finding Perfect (106 page)

“How are you feeling?” Charity asked. “Any morning sickness?”

“I'm fine as long as I stick to crackers for the first hour. Then I can pretty much eat what I want. Of course, based on the list of things I should be eating, all those fruits and vegetables, the protein and dairy, there's not much room left for empty calories.” She sighed. “I miss empty calories.”

“Me, too. And coffee. I would kill for a glass of wine.” She glanced at Pia. “Do you think it's wrong to bring a saucy little Merlot into the recovery room?”

“I think they'd frown on it. Plus, won't you be breastfeeding?”

They reached the street and turned left. There was an exclusive maternity boutique right next to Jenel's Gems.

“Breastfeeding is in the plan,” Charity admitted. “Are you?”

“I haven't gotten that far,” Pia admitted. “I'm one breast short, to begin with, so I'm not sure how it would work. I'm not really doing a lot of reading yet. I have time.”

“Of course you do. It's nice that you're not totally obsessed with your pregnancy. The first two months, I couldn't stop reading about it, or talking about it. I became one of those horrible, self-absorbed friends who only cared about herself.”

“I remember,” Pia said, her voice teasing.

Charity gave her a mock glare. “A true friend wouldn't mention my slip in judgment.”

“A true friend would have given you a good slap if it had continued much longer.”

Charity laughed.

Pia joined in but was pleased when the conversation changed topic. In truth, the reason she hadn't started doing a lot of reading about her pregnancy had nothing to do with being calm and everything to do with the fact that she still didn't feel connected to the babies growing inside of her. They were an intellectual exercise, not an emotional bond. She knew she was pregnant, but those were just words.

In time things would get better, she told herself. From finding out about the embryos to implantation had only been a matter of a few weeks. It made sense that she would need time to catch up emotionally. At least that was the plan.

“Josh keeps saying we have to register.” Charity grimaced. “I've gone online where they have those lists of what is ‘essential,' and it's enough to freak me out. They talk about things I've never heard of. And some other stuff that's really weird. Do you know there's a device that keeps baby wipes warm? You drop in a container of wipes and it keeps them toasty. The reviews say not to get it because then the kids scream when you're away from home and have to use a cold baby wipe.”

Pia felt the first hint of fear. “I have to make a decision about baby wipes? Can't I just buy what's on sale?”

“Sure, but then do you heat them? It's incredible. I swear, if you took along everything that they said, you
wouldn't need a baby bag so much as a camel. And you'll have three times that amount.”

Pia felt a little light-headed. “We should talk about something else,” she murmured.

“And the diapers. Do you know how many diapers babies go through in an average week?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Eighty to a hundred.”

Charity kept talking, but Pia was too busy doing the math. With triplets, she could be looking at two hundred and forty to three hundred diapers in a week. If she used disposable ones, wouldn't she be personally responsible for any overflow in the Fool's Gold landfill?

Three hundred diapers? How many were in a box? Could she fit that many in her car? Was Raoul going to have to buy a semi to bring in supplies?

“That's pretty.” Charity had stopped in front of the window of the maternity store. A pregnant mannequin wore a sophisticated burgundy pantsuit, with a fly-away-style jacket. The fabric was a high-quality knit that skimmed the body and held its shape but would probably wash like a dream.

“The color would be great for you,” Pia said. “With your light hair.”

“I wonder if the set comes with a skirt. Or I could get a black skirt and a patterned top. That would give me a lot of work outfits.” She glanced at Pia. “Or am I being too matchy-matchy?”

“You're doing just fine. Let's go in and see what they have.”

The store was larger than it looked from the outside. There was plenty of light, lots of mirrors and racks of clothes set up by type. In the back, an archway led into
a massive separate store that sold everything baby. Pia caught sight of a stroller and crib before carefully averting her eyes. She was here to shop for her friend, not freak herself out. Later, when she could sit down, she would think about all the equipment babies apparently required and try not to hyperventilate. And maybe she would take Denise Hendrix up on her offer to explain what exactly the mother of a triplet needed three of and what she could avoid buying in bulk.

“Hi, ladies,” a salesclerk called. “How are you doing?”

“Great,” Charity said. “I'm browsing first.”

“Let me know if I can help.”

Pia wandered toward the dress racks. Maybe dresses would be easier, as they would give her more breathing room—so to speak. But as it got colder, she preferred pants or nice jeans. Plus, did she really want to deal with maternity tights or nylons?

She crossed over to the jeans and grimaced when she saw a very unattractive elastic kind of band thing stuck in front. Was that what she had to look forward to?

“Look at this,” Charity said, pointing to a mannequin. “It's a tummy sleeve.” She leaned in and read the sign. “Oh, this is great. It helps with transition. When you're too big for your regular pants but maternity ones are too big for you. It covers the open zipper.” She grinned. “I wish I'd thought of that. You should get one.”

What Pia should get is out of the store. She wasn't ready for any of this. Not yet. She was barely pregnant and she still hadn't accepted she was having one baby, let alone three.

She watched Charity collect several items of clothing, then waited while her friend tried them on.

“You look adorable in everything,” Pia told her.

It was the truth. Charity genuinely glowed. She was pleasantly rounded, blissfully happy and excited about being a mother. Pia felt like a crabby fraud.

“You don't want to pick out anything?” Charity asked as she paid for her clothing.

Pia shook her head. “I'm not ready.”

“I would guess with triplets, you're going to have to get ready soon. Is this where I ask you to come with me next door to look at furniture and you refuse?”

“I'll look.”

Maybe poking around in a baby store would help. If nothing else, she could look for a book on multiple births. The books she had at home only had a chapter or two on multiples.

They walked through to the baby store. There were cribs and changing tables, mobiles and teddy bear lamps.

“Come see,” Charity told her, pointing to the left. “There's a bedroom set I really love. But it's pretty girly and if we have a boy, I'm not sure it's appropriate.”

Pia followed her friend to a display done in pale wood. The small nightstand, crib, dresser and changing table were all carved with fairies and angels, the edges scalloped. Pink-and-gold drawer pulls sparkled with a touch of glitter.

“Too girly doesn't describe it,” Pia said with a grin. “I think it's great, but you need to make sure you're having a girl before you get this.”

“It's too over the top for a boy?”

“It will give Josh a heart attack, and that's the last thing you want.”

“I know.” Charity sighed. “I had planned not to know
the sex of the baby until the birth. I thought that would be fun. I've always been such a planner. This seemed like the ultimate in letting go.”

“Then you're going to have to let go on the furniture selection,” Pia told her. “This is a whole new dimension of girly.”

“You're right,” Charity said, sounding reluctant. “What are you going to do?”

Pia turned to her. “About what?”

“Knowing the gender of the babies.”

“I haven't really thought about it.”

“From what I know about IVF, you're going to have fraternal rather than identical triplets,” Charity said. “Three embryos mean they fertilized three different eggs. That could make things interesting. Does Raoul want to know?”

They hadn't talked about it, Pia realized. In fact they hadn't talked much about the babies at all. She didn't know anything about his thoughts on children, except he wanted them. What were his hopes and dreams for these babies? Did he spank or prefer time-outs? Would he want to know if they were having boys or girls?

She put her hand on the dresser to steady herself. There was more. They hadn't talked about financials or their goals for their lives. She didn't know what religion he was, if he opened his presents Christmas Eve or Christmas morning. They hadn't even discussed which way to load a dishwasher.

How could she have agreed to marry someone she didn't know at all? Shouldn't they have a plan to get to know each other? Of course, she was the same person who had blithely had her friend's babies implanted into her body without considering the future.

She was going to be the mother of three children. She was going to have to raise them for the next eighteen years. Longer if housing prices kept going up. She could barely take care of herself. There was the whole humiliating relationship failure with Jake, the cat.

“I can't do this,” she said.

“What's wrong?” Crystal asked, sounding concerned.

Pia had to get out of there. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

She glanced at her watch. “I have to go. I have…” Her mind went blank, then rebooted and provided her with the perfect excuse. “I have a city council meeting tomorrow. I need to get back to work and prepare.”

“Me, too,” Crystal told her. “We're talking about the budget, which is a serious drag. Neither of us can have caffeine. How are we supposed to stay awake?”

Pia was amazed. She must still look and sound normal, when on the inside, she was seconds from a meltdown.

Somehow she made it back to her office. But instead of preparing for the meeting, she stood in her tiny bathroom, her arms braced against the sink.

The obvious question was what had she been thinking. But she knew the answer to that. She hadn't been. She'd been reacting to the loss of a dear friend. And now that she was pregnant, was she doing her very best to be informed? Had she made even one change in her life to support the babies?

Okay, sure she'd given up alcohol and caffeine and she was taking the vitamins and eating lots of fruits and vegetables. But was that enough? She hadn't known how many diapers a baby needed a day. She didn't want to
look at furniture or maternity clothes. If Crystal really knew what she was like, she would be horrified to know her future children would be in Pia's custody. Because for the first time ever, the babies were finally real to her and she was terrified.

* * *

T
HE ENTIRE TOWN TURNED OUT
for the auction. Pia stared at the huge crowd and found that being the object of so much male attention was kind of good for her emotionally fragile state.

Since arriving at the convention center, she'd been ogled, had her butt pinched twice and asked out more times than she could count.

There had to be at least three hundred guys milling around the open space and twice that many women. The concession stands were doing a brisk business, which meant plenty of income for the city. All good.

“Hey, pretty lady.”

Pia glanced up from her clipboard and saw a tall, slightly grizzled older man smiling at her. He was missing a couple of teeth and needed a shave.

“You gonna bid on me tonight?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Would that I could,” she said with a heavy sigh. “But I'm pregnant.”

His gaze dropped to her belly and he took a couple of steps back. “I'm not interested in no kids.”

“I hear that a lot.”

The man turned and nearly ran in the opposite direction. Montana hurried up to her.

“This is great. I can't wait for the talent show. Some guy just felt me up. I should probably be mad, but it's so strange, it's almost funny.”

“Give it an hour,” Pia told her. “It'll get annoying. I'm telling every guy who talks to me that I'm pregnant. It's very effective.”

Dakota joined them. She had a soda in one hand and popcorn in the other. “The lady with the dancing dog is first up in the talent show. I can't wait.”

Pia laughed. “This is a serious event, you two. Act accordingly.”

“It's a woman dancing with her poodle,” Dakota said with a laugh. “I do love this town.”

Pia glanced around at the crowd filling the convention center. Despite the craziness, she loved it, too.

* * *

T
HE NEXT AFTERNOON
, P
IA
managed to sit through the city council meeting without dozing off. Given her wild night at the auction, that was a serious accomplishment.

The performances had gone off on time, the bachelor auction had been nearly orderly. The more attractive men who claimed to have jobs had gone for the most money, and nothing really embarrassing had happened, which meant the media coverage should be relatively benign.

One crisis endured, forty-seven others waiting in the wings, she thought. At least the activities of last night had kept her from dwelling on her inadequacies as a potential mother.

She was trying and that should count, she told herself. As she got more pregnant, she would bond more with the babies. She promised herself she would read more and figure out what she was supposed to do next.

“We're hoping revenue from the influx of tourists helps,” the city treasurer was saying.

“By tourists she means men,” Mayor Marsha said with a heavy sigh. “Pia, the auction went very smoothly last night. Thank you for that.”