Little Earthquakes by Jennifer Weiner Read Free Book Online Page B

black-and-white kitchen out of a three-month-old issue of Life ? Her mother had done a poor job of hiding her scrapbook. She’d just shoved it in her closet, underneath the white leatherette book with the words OUR WEDDING tooled in gold leaf on the cover. The book contained a few dozen snapshots of the wedding at St. Veronica’s and the reception at the Knights of Columbus hall after. Her father’s tuxedo had had disco-era wide lapels; her mother’s Empire-waisted gown had failed to hide the bulge that would be baby Mary five months later. Kelly rescued her scrapbook the next night, and she’d kept it until she went off to college.
    Kelly sat back in Ayinde’s leather couch and set her teacup carefully into its saucer and smoothed her hair. She knew that, objectively, she looked okay, or at least as okay as a seven-and-a-half-month pregnant woman could look. At least her hair was right. Dr. Mendlow had probably thought she was crazy because the first question she’d asked during her first office visit wasn’t about diet or exercise or the birth itself but, “Can I get my hair highlighted?” Then again, Kelly thought, Dr. Mendlow didn’t know that her hair was the exact shade of dirty dishwater if she didn’t keep up with her color.
    She took another sip of tea. She’d kill to have hair like Becky’s. She’d just bet those were natural curls. Hair like Becky’s and a house like Ayinde’s, and she’d be all set.
    “So tell us about event planning,” Becky said. “Do you do weddings?”
    “Only a few and only the very high-end ones. Brides are crazy,” Kelly said, wrinkling her nose. “I mean, they have a right to be, of course, it’s their big day and all, but it’s much easier dealing with corporations. It’s not as personal for them.”
    Becky rolled her eyes. “Someday I’ll tell you about my wedding.”
    “Why? What happened?”
    Becky shook her head. “It’s a long and tragic story. Some other time.”
    Kelly hoped there would be another time and that the three of them would turn into those women she’d seen in the park or on the sidewalks, chatting easily as they wheeled their babies along. Maureen had always been her best friend, but Maureen had married an investment banker and moved out west, and none of her college friends were having babies yet. Only a few of them even had husbands.
    “Do you guys have brothers and sisters?” she asked. She ran one finger quickly over the gold rim on her saucer and wondered if it would be tacky to flip it over and see who’d made it. She decided, regretfully, that the answer was yes. She and Steve had gotten Wedg-wood for their wedding, the same pattern that one of her favorite actresses had registered for, according to In Style magazine. But Ayinde’s china was more beautiful than anything she’d seen in any of the stores. Antique, probably.
    Ayinde shook her head. “I’m an only child.” She pressed her lips together, and shifted the baby in her arms. “I think my mother didn’t want to risk her figure with any more than me.”
    “Seriously?” asked Kelly.
    “Oh, yes, indeed,” said Ayinde. “Lolo takes her figure very seriously. She was a model in the seventies. She was the second woman of color ever on the cover of Vogue. Which she’d tell you herself, about ten minutes after she met you.”
    “And where are you both from?” Kelly asked. Oops. Bad move. Kelly the Cruise Director, her brother Barry used to call her. At family dinners, after grace, her mother would slump in her chair, staring listlessly at her plate, and her father would glare from face to face to face, looking alternately furious and bewildered, as if he couldn’t figure out how all those kids had gotten there. Her brothers and sisters would just shove food into their mouths, and Kelly was the one trying to keep the leaden ball of the conversation aloft, with an effort that made her teeth ache. How was school today, everyone? she’d ask. Doreen, how was field