“So what did you do when you got back to Alameda?”
“Made cakes.” Lauren laughed and wiped beneath her eyes. “Three of them.”
“What kinds?”
“Chocolate. Grandma’s old-fashioned chocolate cake recipe. Made the same cake over and over trying to perfect it.”
“I thought it was already pretty good.”
“It is good. I just think it can be better.”
“So you’ve got the perfect recipe now?”
“Not yet. But I haven’t given up.” Lauren left her bed, paced the room, ending up at the window overlooking the street. The street lamps shone yellow through the leafy trees. Cars lined both sides of the street. “So how are you? How are you feeling?”
“I’m good. Ready to have this baby. I’m sick of being pregnant.”
“Just another six weeks.”
“Which seems like forever when you’re getting up half a dozen times a night to pee.”
“And then soon you won’t be sleeping because you’ll be nursing every couple of hours.”
“Which freaks me out since you know I need my sleep.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“Will I, really?”
Lauren thought about it. “No,” she said, smothering a laugh. “You won’t. It’ll suck. You’ll survive.”
“Wonderful,” Lisa retorted dryly. “And just so you know, you’re not the only one baking. I’ve had such crazy cravings lately that when I can’t sleep, I head to the kitchen and throw together something sweet. I’ve been on a cinnamon and sugar kick this last week . . . cinnamon rolls, coffee cake. Last night it was miniature donuts.” Lisa made a rough, mocking sound deep in her throat. “Which I then ate, all eighteen by myself, at three in the morning.”
“Lisa!”
“I know . . . I’m horrified. But I can’t sleep and then for some reason, I start thinking about food. . . .”
“But donuts? You hate donuts.”
“Not when I roll them in a cinnamon-sugar coating. Then they’re delish.”
“Lisa, you have to stop. That’s not good for you.”
“But it gives me something to think about, besides giving birth. Because I have to tell you, I’m beginning to panic about how the baby gets out. I’m not sure I want it coming from there.”
“It’s supposed to come from there.”
“Can’t they just take it from my stomach?”
“You’re not getting an elective C-section.”
“No, I’m not. It just seems really painful.”
“Eating donuts and cinnamon rolls in the middle the night won’t make birth any easier. And you’ll just hate yourself if you put on a lot of weight now.”
“Too late for that,” Lisa muttered. “I’m huge. Can’t even fit in my extra-large maternity jeans anymore.”
“I’m sure being on bed rest for so much of your pregnancy didn’t help.”
“That’s what Mom said . . . before she found out about my cinnamon and sugar fetish.” Lisa snapped her fingers. “Speaking of Mom, she and Dad were here last week. I made them my blueberry pie for dessert. My best pie yet. Same crust—love that crust—but I tweaked the filling, doubling the amount of cinnamon and added an extra squeeze of lemon juice and it was perfect.”
“Okay. Now you’re making me hungry.”
“Wish you were here. We could go bake something right now.”
Lauren felt a pang. “What would we make if I were there?”
Lisa sighed. “Something easy, because I’m tired.” Then she giggled. “And something yummy that we could eat warm, because I don’t have the patience to wait for anything to cool anymore.”
“One of your cobblers or crisps. Maybe your apple crisp.”
“Or maybe my new favorite crisp. Peach-mango.”
“Peach-mango?”
“I made it earlier in the week. It was supposed to be a peach cobbler, but the peaches hadn’t ripened enough, and I had mangos from the farmers’ market and they were ripe, so I threw them together and it worked out perfectly.”
“And let me guess . . . you put cinnamon in that one, too?”
“Of course.”
Lauren laughed. “Well, if it’s as good as you say, it might be another good one for our cookbook.”
Lisa was silent a moment, before asking carefully. “Do you still want to do the cookbook?”
“Of course. Why not?”
“We’ve done nothing on it in years.”
“Not years. A year maybe. And that’s only because we’ve had other things come up. The move to the new location, and then Blake—” Lauren broke off, and clamped her jaw tight, holding her breath, and the bruising emotions in. She loved her sister so much, but Lisa didn’t understand how hard it was for Lauren to negotiate the past and the present, the dreams they’d had, the plans they’d made. A year ago Lauren felt like she had everything. Then it was gone. And gone was a scary, dark place. Lauren drew a quick breath. “I’m sorry to make everything about Blake. I know it’s not fair to you—”