You Were Meant For Me by Yona Zeldis McDonough Read Free Book Online Page A

all these stairs,” Joy said.
    â€œIt’s good exercise,” Miranda offered hopefully. “Exercise is important.”
    â€œVery,” said Joy, “especially given the alarming rise of childhood obesity.”
    â€œOh, I’m just steps from Prospect Park,” Miranda said, seizing the opportunity and running with it. “There are two playgrounds right nearby and a third over at Ninth Street. Lots of playground options in the neighborhood. Lots.” Oh, the babbling again!
    â€œI’d like to look around,” Joy said, notebook at the ready. “Where should we start?”
    Miranda took her around the apartment, trying to see it through her eyes. There were books—lots of them—on the shelves. A small flat-screen television. An upright piano that had been her mother’s. “Do you play?” Joy wanted to know.
    â€œI did,” Miranda said truthfully. “I keep it more out of sentimental value. My mother loved to play.” It was a sweet memory—her mother, leaning in toward the keys, a small private smile on her face. Miranda had always wished for greater musical aptitude, but the lessons were torture, the practicing almost as bad, and she had been so relieved when her mother finally agreed that she could stop.
    Joy moved on, taking note of the soft rugs, the abundance of light and air. She made a cursory tour of Miranda’s bedroom and spent more time in the baby’s room, walking to the window and peering outside at the yard below. “Southern exposure,” she said. Miranda nodded eagerly—wasn’t this a realestate buzzword?—until she heard Joy’s next words: “This room could get very hot. Do you have air-conditioning?”
    â€œI have a ceiling fan,” Miranda said lamely. “But I could easily put in a window unit here.”
    â€œAnd window guards too—you’ll need them everywhere.” Joy was busily writing in her notebook.
    â€œOf course. I can have it done immediately.”
    They spent a few minutes in the bathroom; as Bea had predicted, Joy checked the medicine cabinet, where nothing more potent than Advil—in a childproof bottle!—was present. The kitchen too seemed to pass muster, though Joy declined an offer of apple cake with a curt little shake of her head. Miranda ardently hoped she did not think she was being bribed. Then Joy extended her hand and thanked Miranda for her time. “You’ll be hearing from us,” she said.
    â€œWhen?” Miranda pinned all her hopes on that single word.
    â€œIt usually takes a month or so, but we’ve been told to expedite this placement, so you’ll be hearing within a week.”
    Miranda said nothing. Judge Waxman had been telling the truth.
    â€œWe were looking at an April eighth placement, correct?”
    Miranda nodded vigorously. She had filled out all the paperwork describing her child-care plans for the next few months. The baby’s arrival would coincide with the start of her three-week vacation, time that had to be taken before the Web site launch. After that she would hire a nanny from a well-regarded agency whose name Lauren had given her; she already had three potential candidates.
    Miranda accompanied Joy down the stairs and waited on the stoop until she had gone up the street and turned thecorner. As soon as she stepped back inside the house, Mrs. Castiglione was there to meet her in the hall. She must have been listening. “Is everything all right, Miranda?” she asked.
    â€œEverything’s fine,” Miranda assured her. She liked her landlady, but she was not ready to confide in her just yet; what if Joy Watkins decided this wasn’t a suitable home for the baby? Sharing the story now would only amplify the disappointment later. No. She would keep her own counsel, at least for now.
    But looking into Mrs. Castiglione’s creased and worried face, she felt compelled to offer her