Page 162 of Fury In Death

“Twenty-eight.” She put a hand on the mountain. “Ah, I see. I thought it might be tonight. Tomorrow anyway. I’m happy to help, but why don’t I get Louise?”

“Check it. And, Roarke, if you’d tell Leonardo. He’ll set everything up in the bedroom. He knows what to do.”

Roarke looked as pale as Eve felt. “I don’t understand what’s happening here.”

“It’s okay. Moonpie does. Number Two didn’t want to miss the party.”

“Mavis, you can’t just—”

“I can. I am.”

Louise hurried over. “Home birth?”

“Yeah, all prepped for it. Midwife got another call though. I think things are moving pretty fast.”

“How fast?”

“Well, I had one right before my number, and another right as I finished. Then another about a minute ago.”

“That’s fast.”

She smiled in a way that made Eve wonder if everyone had simply lost their collective minds.

“Why don’t we get you upstairs? Charles, why don’t you get Dr. Mira? We’ll tag team this one.”

“I’m a licensed midwife,” Phoebe told her. “So’s my mother-in-law, my oldest daughter.”

“Happy to have you if Mavis is.”

“Phoebe’d be mag. Could you get Peabody? I want her with me. And Dallas, I need you with me.”

Eve thought: Oh fuck, oh fucking fuck. And said, “Sure. No problem.”

“I’ll just . . . stay down here. Boil water.”

Eve grabbed Roarke’s hand. “I go, you go.”

“Someone has to boil the water. I’m sure of it.”

“Bollocks to that.” Eve dragged him with her.

Mavis spotted Trina, hailed her. “Baby’s coming. Can you take over as hostess?”

“Bet your ass. You got this, Mavis.”

“I’d better.”

She had another contraction at the top of the stairs that had Eve fighting yet another level of panic.

What if she didn’t even make it to the bedroom? What if the baby just . . . spilled out on the floor?

But they made it to where Leonardo, eyes wild, rushed to Mavis, copper curls bouncing, long silver vest flying.

“My darling. My own!”

“Special sheets?”

“Done. Towels, sterilized clamps, scissors. Your music’s cued up.”