I smiled at them both. “Really, it’s okay. Why don’t you both have a seat.”
Rita let out the breath she’d been holding and practically wilted into the chair across from me, while Tabatha sat confidently in the chair next to me. Clearly, we didn’t get our gumption from Mommy Dearest.
That was all Grammy.
The corner of my lip tipped up, thinking of her.
It had been four months since her death. I’d had all of her personal belongings brought to a storage unit and sold her house with the furniture in it, but I still couldn’t go through her things. I had my own money, so I set up a trust fund for the boys.
I still cried myself to sleep many nights, and I missed her terribly. That’s what made this so hard. I didn’t want to hear anything negative said about the woman I adored. She was tough, but she had always been fair and kind to me. She loved me, and she was mine. She wasn’t perfect, but who was?
I couldn’t risk anyone ruining her memory for me.
“Tiffany, did you hear me?” Tabatha eyed me curiously.
I blinked. “Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts.”
“Good ones, I hope.” Rita looked over the top of her menu at me.
I sat up a little straighter. “Yes, they were of Grammy.”
“Ah, Eugenia was a remarkable woman,” she said softly, her eyes filled with kindness and regret.
“She certainly was.” I couldn’t help liking Rita and wanting some kind of relationship with her, but I felt guilty, like I was betraying Grammy. So, I settled on being cordial to Rita and focusing on developing my relationship with Tabatha.
The waitress came over and we ordered. After she left, someone else brought our drinks right away, and we waited in awkward silence for our food.
“Dad told me to tell you he noticed an oil stain beneath your car.” Tabatha took a sip of lemonade. “He can help you with that if you’d like. He’s pretty handy with cars.”
“Oh, yes, your father restores old cars on the side when he’s not working for the brewery. He’s quite good.” Rita beamed with pride.
“I don’t need Charlie’s help. I have Matt.”
Rita’s shoulders slumped and she toyed with her napkin. “I’m glad you have someone to help you, dear.”
I nodded, unable to speak. How could a simple term of endearment like the word dear from a person’s biological mother stir up so many emotions. As I did with everything these days, I blamed the hormones.
“How are you feeling?” Tabatha glanced at my stomach and smiled, but I could see the pain she still felt over losing her daughter and husband shining bright in her eyes like my own. Like our mother’s.
Maybe this lunch wasn’t such a great idea after all.
I inhaled a deep breath, reminding myself I was an Eisenhower. I could do this. “I feel great. I’m nearing the end of my second trimester. The first trimester was awful. I was so tired and sick. But the second trimester has been much better so far. I feel great. It fills my mind with wonder to feel the boys move. Carrying twins isn’t so bad.”
Tabatha snorted. “I’ll remind you of that during the third trimester.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“Tabatha, don’t scare your sister. It’s nothing she can’t handle.” Rita sat up straighter and seemed less wilted as she turned to me. “You’ll be just fine, Tiffany.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” I stared wide-eyed at my mother and then looked at my sister. “Seriously, I want to know what to expect.”
“Don’t you have a book?” Tabatha shrugged at Rita when she scowled at her.
“Yes, but I have a feeling it leaves out the details an expectant mother really wants to know. So, fess up, Tabby. What was it really like for you?”
“Sorry, Mom, Tiff asked for it. And honestly, I would have been better prepared had you told me what it was really like.”
“Every woman is different, and I just don’t believe in unnecessarily scaring a pregnant woman when she can’t reverse what’s going to happen.” She sat back and folded her hands as our food arrived, as if she were at a tea party and they hadn’t just terrified me.
It felt like forever until the waiter finally left. They both started eating, but suddenly, my appetite was gone. “Um, excuse me, sister,” I clutched her arm, “but talk and eat at the same time please. Because I can’t eat a bite until I know what I’m in for. And don’t sugarcoat it. I’m an Eisenhower, remember? I can take it.”
She sighed and put her hamburger down. “I only carried one baby, but I can tell you your cute little belly won’t be so cute anymore. You won’t be able to see your feet or tie your own shoes. You’ll have to pee constantly, and don’t be surprised if you wet your pants a time or two. Your back will ache from standing with a permanent arch. You’ll be starving, but you won’t have any room in your stomach, so you’ll want to eat all day long.”
I felt my skin pale as the blood drained away from my face.
“And don’t get me started on the heartburn. The kicks will feel like an MMA fight is happening and your uterus is the arena, with a foot or two getting stuck beneath your ribs. Then there are the stretchmarks on your breasts, belly, and thighs no matter how much fancy cream you rub on them. With twins, expect double the amount.”
Little stars danced before my eyes, and my head grew light and spacey.
“Then there are the Braxton Hicks contractions. You’ll think you’re in actual labor, but you’re not. It’s only the warmup and nothing like the main event. My labor lasted three days, and I was too late for pain meds…”
Her words faded as the darkness closed in, and the lights went out in Mayflower, leaving me with one final thought...maybe Eisenhowers weren’t as tough as I thought they were.
And then I had no thoughts at all.
Chapter Eighteen
“Ican’t believe I fainted.” I placed two adorable, light-up ceramic pumpkins in my shopping cart the next day.
