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If I was going to forget about Brookdale, I was going to actually have to pay attention to what these two had found.
An hour later, Harris was hunched over a large paper map of New York State spread out over the coffee table in the conversation area of my office. He used a red Sharpie marker to indicate what towns and areas we had eliminated with large X’s over the names. Brookdale had not been crossed out. Despite information to the contrary, I still wasn’t willing to admit defeat.
The other towns that he and Diego had identified as potential locations were circled.
“Which of these places have you been to?” I asked.
Diego shrugged. “I’ve been to a few before I started focusing on Vermont.”
“I told you to drop Vermont,” I said.
“Yes, you have. I was acknowledging that prior to that decision, I was visiting those locations and not New York locations.”
I grunted. He answered me and anticipated the next question I would have asked, why hadn’t he been checking out sites in New York?
“I’ll put a dot next to the locations I’ve been to. Most of the eliminated sites are where I’ve been,” Harris said.
“So, most places don’t work?” I confirmed.
“Yeah, we have a checklist. If a location doesn’t meet fifty percent or better of the items on our list, it’s a no-go.”
From the look of the map, most of Upstate New York was not acceptable.
31
LYDIA
My monthly appointments to check on the baby got upgraded to having to be in the office twice a month. I was so close to having this child, I could hardly wait. I was big and round and so uncomfortable. With each appointment, I not so secretly hoped they would want me to go directly to the birthing center in Ines. Brookdale was almost the same size as Ines, so it didn’t make sense that we didn’t have one here.
The physician’s assistant at my obstetrician office sat next to me. I lay back on the exam table with my shirt tucked up and my distended stomach covered in goop. She ran the ultrasound wand over my huge stomach, pausing occasionally to click something on the monitor and measure the baby.
“Can you tell what the baby is today?” I asked.
She moved the wand around some more. “Nope. This kid is going to keep us guessing until they make an appearance.”
“And how soon is that going to be?” I asked. I was convinced that I should have given birth at least a month ago. I was tired and felt like an overstuffed Christmas turkey.
“I’m done with being pregnant,” I announced.
“You may be done, but this baby isn’t going anywhere just yet.”
“Oh, you’re kidding me,” I whined. “But it’s cooked, right? It could be born at any time? I was really hoping you would tell me that you had the due dates all wrong and that it was time for the baby to come out.”
“The baby is fully developed, but it’s not coming until it’s ready. And there is no reason to rush things. You are very healthy. You didn’t expect us to induce you, did you?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I thought maybe if the doctor officially announced I was past my due date, the baby would figure things out.”
“Nope. Dates are definitely on target. You probably should start experiencing some Braxton Hicks and maybe even some false labor pains, but I don’t think this kid’s gonna budge until the end of the month.”
I groaned. I was gonna have to waddle my way through the Christmas festival.
“Are you sure the baby isn’t going to come in two weeks? A week and a half?” I asked as if I could bargain when I would go into labor.
“What’s in a week and a half, other than Christmas?”
“I’m trying to get out of my civic duties. I volunteered to help with the Christmas festival, and I am not feeling particularly festive this year,” I admitted.
I wasn’t feeling festive at all. I didn’t even have a Christmas tree up at the inn. The only reason there were decorative lights around the outside was because in a moment of what I now looked back on as weakness—but at the time I considered it to be strategic planning—I had hired Tony to come in the weekend after Thanksgiving and string Christmas lights around the large front windows and the porch.