Sam notices my pause and her eyebrows raise in response.
“Something other than a romcom movie you watched half-drunk on a Saturday night.”
I watch Sam press her fork into an egg, and the runny yolk oozes from inside over her English muffin. I take another bite of pancake. This conversation isn’t going the way I thought it would. Not that I expected Sam to jump up and congratulate me on being sister of the year, that’s not what this is about, but after Ellie was initially skeptical and now Sam is looking at me like I’ve grown horns, it’s a little defeating.
I decide she just needs some time to adjust to the idea.
“How’s the boutique build out coming along?” I ask, changing the subject.
I’m so excited for Sam’s boutique. She’s been working hard to gain an online following for her shop and now she’s realizing her dream of having a store front. And I’ve been helping her find cool display furniture that matches the aesthetic of her athleisure boutique.
“It’s turning out great. Everything looks amazing so far.” Sam sets her fork down and reaches for her mimosa. After she takes a sip, she continues, “But my contractor is a fucking nightmare.”
“Really? Wait, didn’t you hire your brother’s friend?”
“Yeah, Luke.” Sam makes a face, like just saying his name is enough to put her over the edge.
“How is everything turning out so well if he’s terrible?”
“Oh, Luke’s a great contractor. His work is top notch, but I’d never say that to his face because he’s such an arrogant ass. He wants to argue with me about every detail. And he’s always glaring at me for no reason. I really don’t remember him being such a jerk when we were growing up.”
Sam is normally so even keel. She does a lot of yoga and meditation. I’ve never seen someone get under her skin like this before, and I can’t imagine someone not getting along with her, especially if they are a friend of her brother’s.
Unless…my eyes narrow at her.
“Wait a minute. Is he hot? Is this like a sexual tension kind of thing?”
I watch Sam’s face. Her cheeks turn rosy, and even when she says nothing, it’s written all over her face.
“What? No.” Sam’s eyes bounce around like they’re in a game of pinball, never quite meeting mine.
“Has he been showing you his power tools?” I start to snicker. “I bet he’s really good at drilling. And screwing.” I wiggle my eyebrows.
“Stop.” Sam tries to say it with a straight face, but she can’t help but laugh, too.
When we’ve composed ourselves, Sam says, “Yes, he’s attractive. But Luke’s not interested in me like that. He’s supposedly doing me a favor, but I don’t exactly know what his deal is.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Anyways, you need to come by this week to check it out.”
“Oh, I will.” I don’t really know what else to say to that. I’m more curious now than ever how the boutique is coming along.
We finish our food, slam back our mimosas and grab our bags.
* * *
After brunch, Sam rides off on her bike and I head down Tennyson Street to check out the shops. The main street is lined with clothing boutiques, coffee shops and the cutest little bookstore that I love to frequent. I’ve never been described as a bookworm, I wasn’t the best student in school, but in my adult life, I learned to love to read.
The summer I graduated college I think I read ten books in three months because I was so excited to finally be able to read something that wasn’t assigned by a teacher or professor. My parents had been gone two years that summer, and I worked my way through a stack of books that had been on my dad’s nightstand. I remember reading one book in particular, James Patterson’sCrossfire, that must have been the one my dad had been reading right before the accident because there was a bookmark in it.
So many emotions went through me when I surpassed the page that he had marked. He never found out how the book ended.
I find myself on autopilot as my sandal-clad feet cross the street, and I pull open the door to BookBar. The aroma of coffee hits me when I enter and I breathe it in deeply. The small, independent bookstore is half bookstore, half bar that serves the essentials like coffee, breakfast sandwiches, baked goods, wine and beer. It’s got comfy couches for reading in the book area, and tables with chairs in the bar where people work on laptops, hold meetings, or meet for a glass of wine. I debate getting a coffee now, it smells so good and I didn’t have time to make any this morning, but then a worker lining up paperbacks on a shelf asks if I need help finding anything and I remember what I came for.
I’m unfamiliar with the section of the store that I’m looking for so the saleswoman’s help is welcome. If I’m going to seriously pursue surrogacy for Ellie and Josh, I need more information about the whole pregnancy thing. I’m aware of the process that Ellie has been going through with IVF, which I’ve read is similar to what is required of a surrogate, as far as hormones that I’d have to take to prepare my body for the embryo implantation, but I’m pretty clueless about pregnancy in general. Some of my friends from college have had babies, but other than picking out a swaddle blanket or pair of fuzzy booties off the registry for their shower, I wasn’t really involved with their experience. The only tidbit I recall is a night out a couple years ago with my friends Jen and Amanda, who’d had babies a few months before, and how they talked about their baby’s poop all night. Sam and I danced, then I went home with a cute guy. Both Jen and Amanda moved to the suburbs and we haven’t talked much since, but according to their Instagram accounts are pregnant with their second babies now.
The saleswoman leads me through the children’s book section and into a small room at the back of the store where she stops in front of a book case labeled as pregnancy and parenting.
“Everything we have on pregnancy is here.” She motions to a smaller section at the top. “But we can order any book, so let me know if you want me to look anything up.”
“Thanks,” I tell her before she retreats to the front of the store.
