"Yes, I am." Margo studied Laura, who was giggling and digging at a patch of scrubby earth with her two little girls. "I've got an awfully good role model right there. This past year's been hell for her, but she's never wavered."
"Neglect, adultery, divorce," Kate said quietly, not wanting the fitful breeze to carry her words. "Not a lot of fun and games. The girls have helped keep her centered. And the shop."
"Yeah. And speaking of the shop—" Margo turned the detector off, leaned on it. "If these past couple of weeks are any indication, we may have to hire some help. I'm not going to be able to give Pretenses ten and twelve hours a day after the baby comes."
Always thinking of budget, Kate frowned. The upscale secondhand boutique they had opened on Cannery Row was primarily Margo's and Laura's domain. But as the third partner in the fledgling enterprise, Kate crunched numbers for it when she could squeeze out the time.
"You've got over six months left. That hits holiday shopping time. We could think about hiring seasonal help then."
Sighing, Margo handed the metal detector back to Kate. "The business is doing better than any of us anticipated. Don't you think it's time to loosen up?"
"No." Kate switched the machine back on. "We haven't been open a full year yet. You start taking on outside help, you've got social security, withholding, unemployment."
"Well, yes, but—"
"I can start helping out on Saturdays if necessary, and I've got my vacation time coming up." Work, she thought again. Work and don't think. "I can give Pretenses a couple of weeks full time."
"Kate, a vacation means white-sand beaches, Europe, a sordid affair—not clerking in a shop."
Kate merely raised an eyebrow.
"I forgot who I was talking to," Margo muttered. "The original all-work-and-no-play girl."
"That was always to balance you, the quintessential all-play girl. Anyway, I'm a one-third owner of Pretenses. I believe in protecting my investments." She scowled at the ground, kicked it. "Hell, there's not even a bottle cap to give us a little beep and thrill here."
"Are you feeling all right?" Margo's eyes narrowed, looked closer. "You look a little washed out." And frail, s
he realized. Frail and edgy. "If I didn't know better I'd say you were the one who was pregnant."
"That would be a good trick since I haven't had sex in what feels like the last millennium."
"Which could be why you seem edgy and washed out." But she didn't grin. "Really, Kate, what's going on?"
She wanted to say it, spill out all of it. Knew if she did she would find comfort, support, loyalty—whatever she needed. My problem, she reminded herself.
"Nothing." Kate made herself look down her nose disdainfully. "Except I'm the one doing all the work and my arms are falling off while you sit on your rock and pose for a Glamorous Mothers-to-Be photo shoot." She rotated her shoulders. "I need a break."
Margo studied her friend for another moment, tapping her fingers on her knee. "Fine. I'm hungry anyway. Let's see what Mum packed." Opening the nearby hamper, Margo let out a long, heartfelt moan. "Oh, God, fried chicken."
Kate peeked in the hamper. Five minutes more, she decided, then she was digging in. Mrs. Williamson's chicken was bound to erase the nagging hunger pains. "Is Josh back from London?"
"Hmm." Margo swallowed gamely. "Tomorrow. Temple-ton London did a little remodeling, so he's going to bring back some stock for the shop. And I asked him to check with some of my contacts there, so we may have a nice new supply. It would save me a buying trip."
"I remember when you couldn't wait to get on a plane."
"That was then," Margo said smugly. "This is now." She bit into the drumstick again, then remembered something and waved a hand. "Umm, forgot Party next Saturday night. Cocktails, buffet. Be there."
Kate winced. "Do I have to dress up?"
"Yes. Lots of our customers." She swallowed again. "Some of the hotel brass. Byron De Witt."
Pouting, Kate turned off the machine and grabbed a chicken thigh out of the hamper. "I don't like him."
"Of course not," Margo said dryly. "He's gorgeous, charming, intelligent, world-traveled. Absolutely hateful."
"He knows he's gorgeous."
"And that takes a lot of nerve. I don't really give a damn whether you like him or not. He's taken a lot of the weight off Josh here at the California hotels, recovered a lot of the ground Peter Ridgeway lost for us."