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Ella
“So, Booker.”
Editor Stevens sat across the booth from me in the diner, looking for all the world as if she were still behind her desk at the magazine. At the newspaper, really, where she had belonged. Her coffee cup left rings on the table every time she took a sip and replaced it on the table. I stared at it longingly, resenting the huge ice water I had in front of my own place at the table.
Giving up caffeine had been the hardest part of my new life so far.
“You’re pregnant.”
I nodded, and couldn’t help the blush that spread across my cheeks at the editor’s bluntness. I hadn’t mentioned it, but I hadn’t needed too: six months was obvious on my frame. Charlie loved it: the way I looked, the way my body was changing to accommodate our child. I loved it too, mostly–but Editor Stevens’s coffee smelled so,sogood.
“Congratulations. You deserve it. You’re a damn fine reporter, and you’ll be a good mother too: you’ve got good instincts. That’s important. And–people might tell you you’re too young, but I like a woman who knows what she wants and goes and gets it. You don’t want to be an old fart, and have regrets.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, embarrassed by the editor’s bluntness.
“Will I be seeing you onstage at next year’s gala? Maybe the opera opening? I still have a CityStyle subscription, by the way. I saw your engagement announcement.” Her eyes went to my left hand where a moderately-sized (Margaret had called it subtle, although it still felt eye-catchingly sparkly to me) diamond sat on a white gold band. Editor Stevens had retired, just as she had said she would, but the magazine hadn’t been sold–not yet, anyway. Noughton had been tied up in court for months, making his acquisition unlikely. Charlie had offered to buy it, if it ever looked like Noughtonwouldget his slimy hands on it, but I didn’t think he would have to: after my story blew up, and the CityStyle with it, our subscriber rolls were expanding, and the magazine was doing better than ever. I had grown fond of the magazine–even if itwasmostly an excuse to advertise cosmetic injectables–and now I was even growing proud of it: the new editor had changed up the look, made it more modern, and he wanted to add more pieces like mine, more serious articles between the puff and society photographs. It would never be theClarion, but at least our local news would survive. The CityStyle had just needed a facelift–it should have known all along, I smiled to myself, given its advertisers.
“I wouldn’t have thought you to be a subscriber at all,” I said honestly.
“I got one thinking it wouldn’t be around for much longer. I wanted to see how much worse it could get.” Now that sounded more like the editor I knew. “And now, it seems to still be here, and I can’t cancel it.”
“That’s… nice?”
“I mean, I can’t figure it out. I thought I had canceled it, but it keeps showing up. I don’t care enough to go to the offices and have them take me off the mailing list for good. They’ll want to ask how I’m doing, and chit chat.” She raised her eyebrows. “Like you apparently do. Or what? You just wanted to do your old boss a favor and buy her a coffee because you can’t drink one yourself?”
“I had a question I wanted to ask you…” I started, but she cut me off.
“I’m not going back to editing, if that’s what it is. I’m having too good of a time doing fuck-all. I baked a cake last week. Me. A cake.”
“How was it?” I asked, after a meaningful pause.
“Bad. Awful.” She grinned. “But I did it. Now I know not to do it again. So?”
I had very nearly forgotten my question. “It’s not about the magazine. I wanted to ask a…favorof you.”
By the time I had finished my story and gotten to the importantaskingpart, even Editor Stevens couldn’t keep the sweetness from her face.
“Of course,” she said, and if I noticed a suspicious glimmer of saltwater in her eye, I would never say so.
* * *
I was thirsty, exhausted, and my whole body was sore, but luckily, I thought as I dragged myself up the stairs, Anna’s apartment was only on the second floor.
“You’re not carrying any of this home with you today, got it?” Anna scolded as I bent to pry the lid off a small plastic tub in her bedroom. “You’re just looking, sorting out what you want… and what you don’t.” She held up a neon yellow onesie with a suspicious stain on it and laughed. “I swear I willnotbe offended. I don’t even know why I kept some of this stuff. You can’t have this one, even if you did want it. It’s going straight into the trash.” She balled the yellow onesie up and tossed it towards the door.
“I already told you, Charlie will come by tomorrow. And–” I grimaced. Rose had volunteered her services, although I’d never seen her do anything even remotely physical during our short acquaintance, and where Rose went, Richard went too, and where Richard and Charlie went, well, Jack was likely to go along to supervise. “And probably some of his family, too.” Anna would get the full Prince family experience. I surveyed the tubs of tiny outfits spread across the room, knowing Charlie and I would need all the help we could get. I had only not brought anyone with me today because I had wanted this memory to be of just Anna and myself.Sisters.
Even if I had more sisters now, she would always be the one I shared with my dad. Not by blood, but still. She remembered him, like I did.
Anna was apparently thinking the same thing. “I’m sorry he isn’t here for this, Ella. He should be.”
I nodded. What was there to say? “Thanks, Anna,” I managed, blinking rapidly.
“And I’m happy for you.” She stepped clumsily around several plastic tubs of toys and onesies to wrap me in a tight hug, my protruding belly between us. “It’s so, so wonderful, and you’ll beamazing. I can’t wait for the cousins to play together.” I nodded, my chin on her shoulder, and took a deep breath, feeling her quiet beta scent calming me. I had been trying, recently, since going off my suppressants and going through my heat and this pregnancy, to notice more. To feel more. To be more present. For the life growing inside of me, yes, but also forme. I let Anna hold me for a long time, and when she let go, looking first into my face, a soft smile on her face, and then back at the mess that surrounded us, I wasn’t feeling sad anymore. Just thankful.
“So,” she said, “please. Take as much as you want, and more than you think you’ll need. Youwillneed it, and if you don’t, just donate it or pass it along.” She flopped to sit, and began pulling out tiny pairs of leggings, one after the other, stacking them on the floor beside her. I lowered myself down with a lot more effort. “Whatever you do–don’tbring it back here. I amdonewith babies. I’m counting down the days until college.”
Anna grinned and I laughed, and we began sorting out the masses of baby clothes.
