Dance Away with Me(88)

In the morning, Tess mainlined two cups of strong coffee and worried about whether anybody would show up for tonight’s meeting. Or maybe everyone would show up with hot tar and a bucket of feathers ready to run her out of town for corrupting their youth. She told herself that wouldn’t happen. Yes, the town had its share of reactionary diehards, but it also had sensible people . . . although more than a few of them might have bought into the idea that she was responsible for Bianca’s death.

*

The Tempest Women’s Alliance was meeting at the Broken Chimney that morning, making the place too busy for Tess to contemplate what she would do if she couldn’t get past this latest roadblock. Michelle, who was due to deliver at any time, had quit the week before. Savannah was still working, but moving so slowly that she was useless. Since Tess was a sucker for pregnant women—even ones she’d grown to heartily dislike—she didn’t complain, not even about Savannah’s current drawn-out rest break.

Michelle came in as a customer and took a seat at a four-top below Phish’s most recent poster:



WiFi SQUATTERS

Pay Up or Get Up!



Michelle sat well back from the table, knees splayed, hands clasping her abdomen. Savannah used her mother’s appearance as an excuse to extend her rest break even longer.

A few weeks earlier, Savannah had shaved the bottom half of her head and dyed the longer top green, so it looked as if she’d sprouted a patch of garden chives on her head. As soon as she moved to a seat opposite her mother, she began grousing about her best friend, Taylor. “She doesn’t understand. She acts like I should still want to go out to The Rooster every night.”

Michelle fanned herself with a napkin. “Taylor’s immature. I don’t like to say, ‘I told you so,’ but—”

“Then don’t!” Savannah shot back. “I can’t say anything about anybody without you getting all up in my face and criticizing.”

“I’m not criticizing. Whatever I say is for your own good. Taylor is lazy, and you need a better class of friends.” Michelle tugged at the last open button on her black-and-white-check maternity blouse and blew into her generous cleavage to cool herself off. “Stop glaring at me like that. You need to be more considerate of my condition.”

“Your condition? What about my condition?”

“It’s completely different.” Michelle went in for the slam dunk. “You’re not forty-two with a history of precipitous labor.”

“If you don’t stop talking about your precipitous labor, I swear I am tippin’ this table right over in your big, fat lap.”

Tess plunked Michelle’s lemonade in front of her. “Could you two tone it down? You’re driving away the customers.”

“What do you care?” Savannah retorted. “It’s Phish’s place, not yours.”

Tess pressed her hands to her heart. “This is what I love most about working here. The deep bonds of friendship I share with my beloved co-workers.” She glared at Savannah. “I’m being sarcastic in case you can’t figure that out.”

Michelle heaved herself to her feet. “You have no right to talk to my daughter that way.”

“Okay, I’ll leave it up to you since—”

Michelle gave a sudden cry of pain and doubled over. “Oh, my god! Sweet Jesus!”

Tess grabbed her to keep her from falling.

“Call . . . call your father!” Michelle gasped.

Savannah leaped to her feet and rushed for her phone faster than she’d moved all day. As the contraction ended, Michelle gazed at Tess with big, frightened eyes. “It’s happening again! I’m going to have this baby right now! I knew this would happen!”

Tess felt the room beginning to spin. Her heart raced as Michelle fell back into the chair. “This is exactly the way it happened last time!” Michelle cried. “You are not delivering this baby. I have to get to the hospital right now!”

“Dad isn’t answering!” Savannah cried.

“Asshole!” Michelle barred her teeth. “I told him not to go anywhere without his phone.”

Michelle was hysterical, and Tess couldn’t deal with it. Bianca’s pleas and cries, the agony of those final minutes had become part of Tess’s DNA. Everything she had to escape. She wanted to run, but Michelle had a death grip on her hands.

“Get the car!” Michelle shrieked at her daughter. “I had Savannah in two and a half hours. The pain was so bad, and it hit so fast. The doctors wouldn’t believe me. They wanted to send me home.”

Tess forced her mouth to move. “Your . . . your doctor knows your history.”

“I’m forty-two! I’m too old to have a baby.” Michelle moaned and carried on as three minutes passed, then four, then five, accompanied by a long stream of grievances but not another contraction.

“I want my pie!” Mr. Felder shouted from the counter, with his usual lack of sensitivity.

“Where’s Savannah?” Michelle cried. “Where’s the car? I have to get to the hospital now! She’s lazy. She’s always been lazy. The only time she ever moved fast was the day she was born.”

At six minutes, another contraction hit. Michelle yelled and crushed Tess’s fingers in her grip.