Free The Surrogate, The Sudarium Trilogy - Book one by Leonard Foglia, David Richards

decoration ran to the bright and the bold. If it was a bit at odds with the house’s conservative architecture, it was still - Hannah searched for another appropriate adjective - “unique.” She wondered if the modular sofa was as uncomfortable as it looked.
    On the second floor, Jolene paused in the hall outside a closed door. “I just can’t wait to show you this.” She pushed open the door and stepped back, clapping with the tips of her fingers.
    The room was painted robin egg’s blue, while the furniture -a dresser, a crib and a rocking chair - was all white. A braided rug lay on the floor, and sitting in a wicker basket (also white) was a collection of stuffed animals, awaiting their future master - the standard stuffed bear, among them, but also a woolly lamb and even a donkey.
    “We finished it only last week.”
    “It’s adorable,” said Hannah, who was thinking that Jolene had definitely gotten a head start on events.
    “I knew you’d love it. And look.” Hanging over the crib was a mobile, made up of stars dangling from silver threads. Jolene flicked a switch and the stars slowly began to revolve to the tune of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”
    Jolene hummed along with the music box, then noted proudly, “The ceiling is painted with stars, too. Dozens of them. Oh, you can’t see them now. They’re phosphorescent, they come out at night. My idea. It’s like staring up at the heavens.”
    The nursery connected with the master bedroom, which Jolene breezed through, barely stopping to point out the abundant built-in closets or the sauna in the bathroom. It wasn’t until they’d reached the third floor that her excitement started to bubble up again.
    “And now, the piece de resistance,” she announced. Part of the third floor was given over to storage space, but what had formerly been two maid’s rooms had been reconfigured to make a spacious bedroom. Curiously, Jolene’s flamboyant tastes stopped at the door, giving way to more traditional decor: a four-poster bed, starched white curtains, a drop leaf table the color of maple syrup and a wing-tipped armchair covered in tweedy fabric.
    “What do you think?” Jolene asked. “It’s for guests.”
    “You’ve done a beautiful job.”
    “You’re not just saying that?”
    “Not at all.”
    “Because if you don’t like it, feel free to tell me.”
    “No, really , it’s very pleasant.”
    Jolene breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, that certainly makes me happy. I kept saying to Marshall, ‘What if she hates it?’ He told me I was just being silly. ‘What’s to hate?’ he said. But I know how fussy people are about their surroundings. Personally, I’ve always felt imprisoned in a four-poster bed. But that’s me. And anyway, he said, ‘if she doesn’t like the furniture, we’ll change it.'”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “It’s yours.” Jolene clasped her hands delightedly and brought them to her mouth, waiting for Hannah’s reaction.
    “Mine?”
    “I’m not saying you have to move in right away. But whenever you say so, it’s yours. This is our guest suite and, frankly, Marshall and I can’t imagine a nicer guest. We would feel so…well, so privileged to have you living with us.”
    “That’s very kind, Jolene, but—”
    “Hush, hush. You don’t have to decide anything now. We just want you to know it’s here, that’s all. So don’t give it another thought. The right time will come. I’ll say no more.” With an exaggerated gesture, she pretended to lock her lips with an imaginary key, threw the key over her right shoulder and headed back down the stairs.

1:12
     
    Hannah took off her brown and white checked apron and, turning sideways, checked her profile in the ladies’ room mirror. At her first monthly check-up, Dr. Johanson had told her she could expect to gain a pound a week. Eight weeks, eight pounds, she was right on track. But the weight didn’t show. If anything, her face looked gaunter than