“It’s about the baby shower.”
Oh. Pescoli inwardly groaned. “I thought I already said I didn’t want one.”
“I know, but it’s been years since you had a child.” Joelle stood on the visitor’s side of the desk, as if pleading her case before a judge. She loved anything to do with holidays, birthdays, or special occasions and intended to celebrate each and every one. From New Year’s Day until the next New Year’s Eve of the same year, there were multiple events that gave Joelle cause to bake, craft and decorate. A month didn’t have a chance of slipping by without some celebration. The walls of the lunchroom and hallways were usually covered in snowflakes, or sunflowers, or four-leaf clovers or reindeer, depending on the season. Small flags were strewn upon desks on the Fourth of July and Veterans Day, eggs and bunnies appeared at Easter, and even leaves decorated the lunchroom tables on Arbor Day. A birthday was never missed, so a new infant’s imminent arrival was certainly reason enough to start knitting and baking and planning a baby shower.
Joelle’s smile was almost as bright as the diamonds winking in her earlobes. “I thought that anything you did manage to hang on to from your earlier pregnancies is probably terribly out of date, or unsafe. I mean it’s been years.”
“Decades,” Pescoli corrected. With more effort than usual, she slid into her chair and noticed that it wasn’t as comfortable as it had been before she’d gained thirty-plus pounds.
“Yes, well. Exactly. I mean, do you even have a layette or a breast pump or a baby monitor that actually has a camera in it?”
“No . . .”
“The advances in technology these days makes things so much easier, and . . . and . . . well, there have been dozens of recalls on cribs and car seats and infant carriers, so you’re best with something brand new.”
“I think we’ve got everything covered,” Pescoli lied. The thought of a roomful of women, or maybe men and women, all giggling over cute little onesies printed with sayings like LOOK OUT, LADIES, or DADDY’S LITTLE PRINCESS, or BORN TO BE ADORABLE was more than she could stand right now. To be feted by Joelle—Pescoli couldn’t imagine.
“Now, Detective, let’s be honest. Even if you did have any baby stuff, it’s probably packed away where you can never find it.” Joelle skated a quick look over the cluttered surface of Pescoli’s work space.
Oh, come on. The mess wasn’t that bad.
“You haven’t even told us if you’re having a boy or girl.”
“We don’t know.”
A hand flew to Joelle’s chest, her splayed fingers tipped in polish the exact match to her lipstick. “But everyone knows ahead of time these days!”
“Santana and I are a little old school.”
Joelle sighed. “I don’t get it. If you knew the child’s sex, you could decorate the nursery appropriately and buy little outfits and be ahead of the game, you know?” Pescoli tossed her purse into a desk drawer as Joelle asked, “Why don’t you want to know?”
“We want to be surprised.” Why was she even having this conversation? “Look Joelle, I appreciate the offer, for the shower. Really. I think I told you that already?” She eyed the woman still standing resolutely on the far side of the desk. “But seriously, no thanks. I’m just not up for it.”
The twinkle went out of the receptionist’s eyes as she realized she wasn’t going to talk Pescoli into changing her mind, and it was that moment Pescoli realized that Joelle had already made serious plans involving invitations, menu, party games, and gifts. Oh. Dear. God.
Before she could say anything else, quick footsteps in the hallway heralded her partner’s arrival. “Hey!” Alvarez, looking fresh as a damned daisy, stuck her head through the open doorway. “How’s Bianca?”
“She’ll live. Out of the hospital, now at home, nursing a cut on her chin, sore shoulder, sprained ankle, and bruised ego.”
“Your daughter?” Joelle said with a small gasp. “What happened?”
Just check Facebook for the latest, Pescoli thought, surprised that the receptionist, who was always first to know the local gossip, had missed any news. “An accident at a party. She’s okay.”
“What accident?” she asked. “Oh . . . did this happen at the party where they found the body of that poor girl?” From the outer reaches of the hallway, a phone started ringing insistently. Joelle caught the noise. “Damn.” She hated to be left out of the gossip loop but duty was calling. “Please, Detective, just think about the shower.” Joelle maneuvered past Alvarez and started down the corridor. “When you change your mind, just let me know,” she said with a smile as she bustled toward the reception area of the department.
“I will,” Pescoli said, then, as the familiar clicks of Joelle’s high heels faded, added, “Just after hell freezes over.”
“I heard that!” Joelle’s voice reached Pescoli.
Alvarez cast a final glance at the retreating receptionist. “What was that all about?”
Pescoli finally settled into her chair. “Long story.” At the curiosity in Alvarez’s expression, she rolled her eyes. “It’s the same thing she’s been bugging me with ever since my pregnancy seemed to go viral around this office.” She scowled. “Joelle wants to throw me a baby shower. Invite everyone who works here. Can you imagine?”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Yes, it’s a bad thing. I told her I’m not up for it. Pink and blue streamers and balloons and a silly game or two? Come on.”
“So Joelle gave up without a fight?” Her voice was full of disbelief.