Juli grabbed a partial roll from the holder affixed to the cabinet. “Coming.”
Maia had insisted Juli couldn’t paint the nursery in her condition. It seemed extreme to Juli, but she was glad of the companionship and of the help, so she didn’t argue.
Thank goodness for Maia. She was heaven-sent.
Juli had never asked Maia much about her personal life. She’d been wrapped up in her own drama, she hadn’t noticed how one-sided their relationship was. They were true friends now.
To Maia’s dismay, Juli had refused to make a final decision on the baby furniture and limited her purchases to a few items of maternity clothing.
“Why not choose the furniture now?”
Juli shook her head. “I’m not superstitious, I’m not. But it's too soon. It’s not time to buy the furniture and other things yet.”
Juli held firm about the furniture but gave in to Maia about the painting.
She carried the paper towels up to the nursery-to-be. She had to edge around a night stand Maia had pushed out of the way.
Juli said, “I’ve arranged for people to come and move this furniture out. I’ll have it stored in the street-side bedroom for now. There’s plenty of time. No need to rush.”
Maia dipped the brush in the paint can and smoothed the excess off on the rim as she withdrew it. She applied the soft yellow, edging around the door trim which would be left white. She’d already rolled two of the walls. “There’s never as much time as you think.”
****
Maia urged Juli to celebrate Christmas with her family—her parents, her sister’s family, some aunts, uncles and cousins. They lived north of Beaufort. Her dad was a retired marine.
“I’m sure they’re lovely, but I’d like to stay here.”
“It will be too quiet for you.”
“I like quiet.”
“You were alone for Thanksgiving. Shame on me for not thinking of you then.”
“No, Maia. Anna invited me for turkey dinner, but I passed on it. I was in a solitary mood. I’ve had a lot to think about.”
“I understand, but if you change your mind at the last minute, my parents live less than an hour away. I’ll come get you in a heartbeat.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Christmas morning was overcast with drips of rain and occasional snowflakes. By noon, the sky had cleared. It was a hard, brilliant blue, the way it can only look in winter. Juli put on her coat, scarf and gloves. The coat was cut full and still roomy.
She stepped out onto the porch and saw a box wrapped in cheerful Christmas wrapping paper and topped with a huge red bow.
There was no one else in the duplex. The package—the present—couldn’t be for anyone but her.
Was it from Maia? No, not Maia. They had exchanged gifts the day before Christmas Eve, before she left for her parents’ home.
Juli stepped to the porch rail and looked up one way and down the other. Not another soul was in sight.
The box was about the size of a coat box. She picked it up gingerly. It wasn’t heavy. She twisted it this way and that, looking for a card. No card.
Juli carried her gift inside.
She removed the bow carefully and then picked at the paper. Paper off, she broke the tape that secured the box top to the box bottom.
Oh.
Her eyes prickled with inevitable tears. She’d produced more tears in the last two weeks than in her whole life.
She touched soft, plush velvety fabric, the color of vanilla ice cream. She ran her fingers lightly under the collar, then lifted the whole thing out. A robe. Had she ever seen a garment this soft and luxurious? Never. She shed her coat, slipped her arms into the robe, and pulled it on right over her clothing.
The other garment was a white cashmere sweater with three pearl buttons on the bodice and gathered full below. She held it in front of her. Seed pearls garnished the upper bodice area and the sleeves were different, a kimono shape. Extravagance was the only word she could summon. She held it to her face and felt the light tickle of the fine filaments.
Was it maternity? No, she didn’t think so. It would work though, at least until the last months.
Beneath the sweater was a perfectly silly pair of slippers, thick and soft with bunny ears and a pink nose.
Juli pushed the tissue wrapping aside searching for a card. Nothing.
She folded the sweater carefully and put it back in the box. Without the robe, the box looked empty. She took off the robe and folded it, too. She placed the bunny slippers on top. Juli slid the box under the boughs of her Christmas tree. Her tiny tree, courtesy of Maia, was situated on the table by the front window. If the gift box was stood on end, it would be taller than the tree. Luke? Not likely. Adela. Definitely not. Frankie? She shivered. No.