Free The Hot Flash Club Strikes Again by Nancy Thayer Page A

frog’s.
    “You’d better cover him up,” Amy said. “He’ll catch cold.”
    Not in
this
room, Polly wanted to say, for the temperature had to be over eighty, but reminding herself that this was Amy’s baby, she hastened to wrap the blanket around her grandson, who snuggled against her with a tiny little birdlike peep.
    “He’s hungry!” Amy cried, alarm in her voice.
    “Maybe he needs to be changed,” Katrina said, rushing toward Polly and snatching the baby from her.
    “I’ll feed him, Mom.” Frantically, Amy began to unbutton her flannel shirt.
    “But he’s not crying,” Polly pointed out sensibly. “He only—”
    But Amy seized her child from her mother’s arms and rushed from the room.
    “I’ll fetch you some soy milk,” Katrina called, running after her daughter.
    Polly sat stunned, feeling as if her hair must be streaming straight backward, as if blown by a gale. She told herself to calm down. She’d only had thirty seconds with the baby, but surely Amy would return to nurse him. She could sit next to Amy on the sofa and stare and stare at his little pink hand.
    Katrina fluttered back into the room. “Amy’s settled back into bed,” she announced. “I tucked a pillow under her arm, and Jehoshaphat’s nursing nicely.”
    “She doesn’t have to go to her bedroom to nurse him,” Polly began.
    “Oh, but Amy’s so
sensitive.
” Katrina clasped her hands together, beaming with munificent purity, as if she were Mother Teresa and Polly were Courtney Love. “She needs to be alone to nurse Jehoshaphat. Would you like some herbal tea?”
    Polly hesitated. What she wanted was to see her grandson. Patience, she reminded herself. “I’d love some.”
    Polly followed Katrina into the large country kitchen with its flagstone floor, slate sink, and long pine table. It was a cozy room, and Polly respected its authenticity, even though there was something smug about it.
    “How was the birth?” Polly asked as Katrina set a mug of tea and a plate of carrot cookies in front of her.
    Katrina clasped her hands again. “Miraculous.” Sinking into a chair, she said, her face glowing, “Amy spent much of her labor in the bathtub. Then David and I helped her out and dried her off so she wouldn’t be cold. Then David held Amy by her shoulders.” She demonstrated, putting a hand beneath her own arm. “I knelt next to Amy, so that she could rest one thigh on my knee, and the midwife caught Jehoshaphat as he came out!”
    Something pinched Polly’s heart. “You were there at the birth?”
    “I was. That’s what Amy wanted.” Katrina’s eyes filled with tears. “It was amazing. So beautiful. The most beautiful moment of my life.”
    “How wonderful for you.”
    “Yes, and I got to hold Jehoshaphat while the midwife and David helped Amy expel the placenta. He was so red! And yelling his little head off. I wrapped him in blankets and held him close. He calmed down, and it seemed he looked right at me. We
connected.
I think he’ll always feel close to me because of those first few moments of his life.”
    Polly swallowed her envy, reassuring herself that
she
would have days and months and years to get to know her grandson.
    The back door flew open. When David strode in, all of Polly’s misery vanished. Her son was so handsome, strong, tall, and vigorous. He wore work clothes, weathered jeans, and a blue denim shirt. And he looked happy.
    “Hi, Mom!” David grabbed Polly in a bear hug. “Have you seen Jehoshaphat?”
    “Just for a second,” Polly began.
    “Jehoshaphat was sleeping in Amy’s arms,” Katrina explained, her voice buttery with tolerance, “but when Polly insisted on taking him, Jehoshaphat cried, so Amy’s upstairs, nursing him.”
    But that’s not true! Polly wanted to protest. Jehoshaphat hadn’t
cried
when Polly took him, he’d only made a little peep. She bit her tongue.
    “I’ll look in on them in a minute.” Going to the refrigerator, David took out a carton of