Free Hanging by a Thread by Karen Templeton Page B

“Since when does she miss the first viewing of an engagement ring?”
    I tell myself that since I’m not her child, I am impervious to The Look. “Maybe one of them’s not feeling well?”
    â€œSo they’d call.” Her eyes narrow; my resistance dissolves like an ice cube in a frying pan. “You know something, I can tell you do. Luke’s always talked to you more than anybody else, ever since you were kids.”
    You remember what I said about not lying if I can possibly help it? This isn’t due to an overabundance of moral fiber on my part, it’s because I totally suck at it. My mouth goes dry; my cheeks flame. Then I realize that, since I haven’t heard from either Luke or Tina since the other night, anyway, whatever information I might be able to dispense is already outdated. Right?
    â€œSorry, Frances. I honest to God have no idea what’s going on.”
    â€œWhich I suppose is why your cheeks are the color of Jimmy’s marinara sauce.”
    â€œIt’s hot in here?”
    The question mark at the end probably wasn’t very bright. But before she can move in for the kill, somebody knocks on the door. It’s Jason, looking particularly fetching tonight in several layers of shredded black T-shirts, torn jeans, and rampant despondency. He looks at me, his mouth struggling with the effort to smile. Kinda like my belly the one time I tried Pilates.
    â€œStarr’s wonderin’ where you were,” he says to me, then turns to his mother. “And Luke called. Said he was sorry they couldn’t make it, but Tina’s not feeling good.”
    â€œOh?” Frances perks up like a hound catching a scent; Jason ducks her attempt to brush his hair out of his eyes. “He say what was wrong?”
    â€œUh-uh.”
    â€œHe want me to call back?”
    â€œDunno.”
    â€œOh, for God’s sake,” Frances says, but I’m already out of the room to go find my daughter, so my butt is safe.
    Until the next day, when Luke calls me at work.
    â€œEl! Guess what? I’m freakin’ gonna be a father! ”

chapter 5
    T he joy in his voice is indescribable. As is my reaction. Although let’s go with stunned senseless, for the moment. I mean, yes, I’m relieved she’s changed her mind. I guess. But at the same time, I’m getting disturbing images of trucks heading straight for brick walls.
    Behind me—I’m taking the call in the middle of the workroom—Nikky and Jock are screaming at each other in different languages.
    â€œWow!” I force out. “That’s wonderful! Congratulations!”
    â€œIsn’t it great? I mean, I had to do some fast talking to convince Teen it’s gonna be okay, but she’ll come around, I know she will. And maybe this’ll get things back on track for her and me, you know?”
    I swallow past a knot in my throat. “What did your mother say?”
    â€œI haven’t told her yet, Tina says she doesn’t want to tell anybody until she’s really sure. Something about getting past the first trimester. But how could I not tell you, huh? Anyway, gotta run, we’ll see you later. Dinner to celebrate, you and Starr, our place, maybe this weekend?”
    â€œSure,” I say, but he’s gone.
    Well. This is great. Really. Luke’s gonna have Tina and a baby. Just the way it’s supposed to be. What he wanted. What I’d helped him get.
    Well, send in the big fat hairy clowns, why not.
    Behind me, Harold sticks his nose into the argument; the noise level is deafening. And heading my way.
    â€œWhere the hell do you get off,” Harold is now screaming in my face, “accepting that return from Marshall Field’s?”
    You know, I am so not in the mood for taking the brunt of somebody else’s screw-up right now.
    â€œSince the order clearly states the delivery date was three weeks ago,” I say with the sort of