Page 157 of Smoke and Fire
“I know. It’s a gift. How far along are you?” I asked.
She closed her eyes and nursed the tea again. “A few weeks.”
When she opened her eyes back up, a modicum of humanity returned. She leaned back, setting the tea back down. Against her pale face, her eyes remained a startling glacier blue. Chilly, if not for the warmth of her constant smile. Nothing like Bastian’s liquid sapphire.
“It wasn’t this bad with my son,” she murmured. “I’m not that far into it and just . . . can’t do smells.”
“How are you not vomiting from the essence d’coffee of this place?”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. The most random things do. Egg? Gone. Mayo? Gone. Sweets have never been my thing, but now I have a morbid hatred for sugar.”
“Sounds like the best diet strategy ever, if you ask me. It’s probably a girl this time.” My nose wrinkled. “I hear they’re drama queens from the moment of conception. Or maybe that was just me.”
Bethany smiled weakly, then laughed. “A girl. Can you imagine Maverick with a girl?”
The idea struck both of us as unaccountably funny, and we giggled for several moments before the hilarity passed. Bethany sipped her ginger tea a couple of more times before she straightened up.
“I haven’t told Mav yet,” she admitted, a bit sheepish. “He was sort of a mess with the first pregnancy. Especially the first trimester, when risk of miscarriage is so high. Some of his sisters have miscarried quite a bit and I don’t want to stress him out before I have too. He’s very protective.”
I snorted.
Understatement of the year.
“Wee bit.” I grinned, fingers held barely apart. “As he should be,” I tacked on.
The pang of losing Jakob usually followed such a sweet sentiment, but I didn’t feel it this time. Jakob hadn’t ever been protective. Affectionate, yes. But not . . . overly concerned about much. Instead, Bastian pushed on my thoughts. He seemed like the protective type. I let that thought linger a bit, and it felt good.
Bethany’s brow rose a little. “Keep my secret, please?”
Her plea struck my heart. “Of course. As long as you want me too. Run to me anytime you need a place to vomit or get relief. My mom is an OBGYN. I can get you some meds or something, I’m sure.”
“Thanks. I have my first appointment next week.” She smiled, then lit up. “Enough about me! Any luck on the finding-your-new-path hunt? Lizbeth mentioned you didn’t want to be a nurse.”
Her genuine curiosity held a bit of fear. As their only employee, I cradled their store in my little hands. If Bethany was sick as a dog while pregnant, she certainly couldn’t stay here long. Maverick had his own career and houses he consulted on for construction work. With Ellie on the other side of the country and no other applicants for a job, I had become the symbol of the Frolicking Moose.
Not a bad spot to be in, but not a forever one, either.
“Maybe,” I mused, thinking of my work with Bastian. I likely wouldn’t settle in as his assistant forever, but I enjoyed the doors this unexpected opportunity opened. “We’ll see how things tease out. Nothing concrete yet, anyway, so I’m still here.”
Her shoulders sagged. “Wonderful.”
“I just wish I hadn’t gotten such a useless degree in college. General studies?” I grimaced. “I should have just dropped out and finished later, when I knew what I wanted. Why don’t they push college for later adult years, after you’ve done all the stupid things and made the stupid mistakes and actually have a brain?”
She sighed. “I agree. I left early, too. Still haven’t finished my degree, just shifted right into real estate. Ellie left early, and I was proud of her. Regardless, I’m sure the right path will find you.”
Maybe it already did,whispered Inner Me.
“Indeed,” I said in answer to both.
I gestured to the sprawled paperwork to shift the topic.
“I would love to help with coordinating the Frolicking Moose, but I’m not sure what you’re picturing for the job. Lizbeth mentioned hiring a manager, or something. I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but I’m happy to do what I can.”
Bethany seemed relieved to refocus on the paperwork.
“Yes, we’re looking for a manager, I think. Someone to take over supplies, renting the loft, running the HomeBnb listing, placing food and inventory orders, barista management, and also the schedules and catering of the back room. I really want to strengthen the partnership between us and JJ’s bakery, but I haven’t had time to figure out how to push catering to interested people. The back room would be great for a wedding reception or party.” She waved a vague hand toward the back room. “But how?”
Not a single idea populated my mind. It was a complicated question that, as a pregnant woman, she shouldn’t have to deal with. A manager position would be a deeper integration into the Frolicking Moose than I wanted to have, and Bethany would need someone she deeply trusted. Someone with guaranteed longevity.
