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A young girl not more than twenty with bleached blond hair and darkly lined eyes didn’t so much as spare a glance from her computer screen. “Thirty or forty minutes.”

Somewhere behind me a kid hacked and coughed. “So where did all these people come from?”

“It’s Sunday. The line was five deep when I opened the doors.”

“Next time I’ll be sure to come early.” I’d hoped to make a personal connection with the girl, believing it might get me bumped up in line. But she hadn’t spared me a single look.

Reception Girl pressed a computer key over and over. “I’ll call you when I need to take your insurance card.”

I sat in a corner far away from everyone appearing sick and hugged my purse close to my chest. The magazines on the small table ranged from Good Housekeeping to Parenting to Time . I picked up Time . The issue was six weeks old, and the pages fairly beaten up.

I flipped through the pages, glancing at headlines and the occasional picture, but found concentration in short supply.

“Ms. McCrae.”

Grateful to have my name called, I tossed the magazine aside and hurried to the little cubicle room where another young girl asked for my insurance card and a picture ID.

Thanks to the buyout at my old company, my insurance would remain intact for another six months, which, if I really was pregnant, was right around the due date.

I had visions of watching the insurance clock tick away as the baby stubbornly refused birthing.

How much did it cost to have a baby? Ellie and Anna had been six weeks early and had cost a fortune, but I’d never gotten hard numbers.

I wasn’t sure if two babies earned a discount on each unit.

I slid my card and ID across the desk.

“Have you ever been here before?”

“No.”

“And why are we here today?” This gal was dressed in light-blue scrubs as if she was in the medical field, but I suspected the scrubs were for show.

I leaned forward, trying to make light of what could be a disaster. “We’re here for a pregnancy test.”

My use of we earned me a raised eyebrow before the woman typed my info into the computer. After more moments of silent typing, she slid my cards back to me and rang a bell. Another nurse appeared and escorted me to a curtained room.

The nurse snapped the curtain closed behind her and moved to a station equipped with a computer. I climbed up onto the table lined with white paper.

“You’re here for a pregnancy test, correct?”

Her deep voice carried, and I envisioned a customer or, God forbid, a family member standing outside the curtain. Wishing for a door, I shifted my weight, causing the paper under my rear to crinkle. “That is correct.”

“Do you have any idea of how far along you might be?”

“Eighteen weeks, give or take.”

She glanced back at me, her gaze direct. “You’re sure?”

I folded my arms over my chest, grateful to give voice to the thoughts dogging me. “March twenty-first at about one a.m.”

The nurse frowned. “Did you take a home pregnancy test?”

I wished she’d stop saying the p word. “I did. The pink plus didn’t show up right away.

Took a couple of hours. I have it in my purse in a Ziploc if you’d like to see it.

” I’d considered throwing it away but had visions of Rachel finding it.

My plan was to save it, then deposit it in a trash can far, far away from the bakery.

“That’s not necessary.”

I leaned forward. “These home tests, they’re kind of bogus, right? They aren’t good.”

“They’re pretty accurate.”

“But what do you mean by accurate ? I mean, I would think a real positive would show up right away and not take its sweet time.”

She faced me with a needle and syringe. “Let’s get some blood.”

I rolled up my sleeve and looked away. After a small pinch, seconds passed, and she stuck a bandage on my arm. “Test results will be in this time tomorrow.”

“You can’t tell me now? The home test promises fast results, so it seems like you could match or best that time. You’re a medical facility.”

She laid a hand on my shoulder. “You want accurate or fast?”

“Both.”

Her gaze softened. “Sorry, hon, but either way you’ll have your answer this time tomorrow.”

“You do understand right now time has stopped for me, and in my world twenty-four hours is equal to an entire decade?”

She patted me on the shoulder. “Keep busy. Don’t think about it.”

“Really?”

She typed into a computer screen and printed out a receipt for me. “Are you feeling sick in the mornings?”

“More like morning, noon, and night. Though I seem to get about an hour’s break a half hour before bedtime.”

“Ginger ale and crackers. Have ’em both on your nightstand and have both before your feet hit the ground in the morning.”

“Right. Thanks.”

As she turned to leave, my phone buzzed. I fished it out of my purse and glanced at it. The text was from Gordon.

Hey, babe. Everything all right? Didn’t see a text back from you last night. See you tomorrow. G.

I stared at the text for long, tense seconds. I should tell him it was all good. But it wasn’t all good. I slid the phone back into my purse and left the doctor’s office, wishing like hell the next twenty-four hours would pass fast.

Rachel, Jean Paul, and I spent the day clearing out the remainder of the wall. The next step was for Jean Paul to install the electrical work, and once done we could call the city inspector, get the all clear, and then put it all back together.

By five I stopped working to take a hot shower. A grateful sigh escaped my lips as I stood under the hot spray and it washed away the sweat and grime clinging to my body. If only problems could wash away as easily as dirt, I’d be set.

As I toweled off, I glanced toward the desk in my room and caught sight of the recipe box.

I’d all but forgotten about it. Crossing the room, I carefully thumbed through the cards.

I glanced at the neat writing and for a moment was tempted to sit and look at each one.

But I had barely ten minutes to dress before Rachel and I met Margaret.

Rachel and I left for O’Malley’s after six.

I wanted a stiff drink but knew I’d be settling for soda. My phone buzzed again, and I glanced at it. Gordon. Another text.

Daisy. Call.

Shorter and terser. He was officially annoyed. I could have brushed him off yesterday with the excuse of the demo, but today I had officially crossed over into rude.

“Why don’t you call him?” Rachel and I walked along Union Street. The gentle breeze wafting off the Potomac warmed my skin. Smiling tourists filled the paths.

“I’ll catch up with him later.”

“Is he having fun on his big bike ride?”

“Gordon loves his bikes. He should have taken up this career after college.”

“Why didn’t he?”

“Too smart. His parents didn’t want to see an Ivy League education go to waste. And he’s very good with numbers.” I’d not known him back in college. In fact, I’d not known his story until weeks ago, when he’d told me. We’d both dropped the walls. And now I was putting one back up.

“You don’t talk much about the time you two were engaged.”

“Both of us weren’t ready to be a couple. The sex was great. So great. And for a time, it was enough. But I feared we were building a life on shaky ground.”

She nibbled her bottom lip, a question burning in her gaze. She dropped her voice to a near whisper. “So is the sex as good as it used to be?”

My mature assessment of my relationship buzzed right over her head. She’d been blinded by the mention of sex. “Rachel. I’m shocked. Since when do you ask questions like that?”

She shrugged, still chewing on her lip. “I might as well live vicariously through you. One of the McCrae sisters must be getting it.”

Laughter rumbled in my chest. “You never talk about sex.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve changed. Death, kids, and a bakery will do that.

” She shoved her hands into her pockets.

“Motherhood changes you. We moms still like sex, but other things get in the way. My heart is now controlled by two little girls in bathing suits at the beach with parents who haven’t had young kids underfoot in thirty years. ”

I reached for the brass doorknob of O’Malley’s. “You worried about Mom and Dad taking care of the girls?”

Music and laughter washed out from the bar. “I worry about everything. It’s my specialty.”

“Have you called Mom?”

“Twice. She forgot to turn her phone on again.”

“You know Mom loves her landlines. She’ll call once they’re settled.”

“I know.”

Deeper inside the bar, music mingled with the buzz of conversation and the smell of beer on tap.

For a Sunday night the place hummed with activity.

The bar served a light dinner, and weeks ago I’d called on the owner to see if they’d like to order rolls for their dinner service.

I’d gotten a big maybe . Would be nice to have more restaurant orders to supplement the grocery store order.

I scanned the crowd for Margaret and spotted her in a corner booth. She saw me and raised her hands, and we wove our way toward her. Rachel slid into the booth next to Margaret, and I sat on the other side. As we settled, a waitress appeared with three beers and set them on our table.

“I went ahead and ordered,” Margaret said. “Figured you could use a cold one after your day.”

A grateful Rachel picked up her cold glass and took a long, liberal sip. She closed her eyes as she drank.

Margaret looked at me, amusement dancing in her gaze. “Little sis, you looking to tie one on?”

Rachel nodded. “Yes. It’s been years since I had a full beer without worrying about the girls. I figure I’ve a day or two before the girls break Mom and Dad and they all come rushing home. I need to make hay while the sun shines.”

Margaret chuckled as she raised her glass. “Well, drinks are on me, babe, so as long as you can slam ’em down, I’ll buy ’em.”

I raised my glass. “A toast to Margaret. Super history sleuth who loves to dig in the dirt and play with old bones.”

Margaret nodded. “Amen.”