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might. I'm in shock. I'm just so happy for you! I know how hard you tried . . ." I felt myself getting teary eyed. Just what I needed. If I started crying now I might not ever stop.
    She pulled me into a hug, planted noisy kisses on both my cheeks.
    It was strange, our relationship. We could go months and months without seeing each other, yet the second we were together again, time fell away.
    She had snagged a triangular booth, built for two—three if you were re ally fr iendly—tucked into the farthest corner of the room. I slid in, ignoring the cracks and tears in the padded vinyl bench.
    "You didn't tell me," I said again.
    "I wanted to surprise you. Besides we didn't tell anyone until after that tortuous first trimester. Not after all we've been through."
    We had to raise our voices to be heard over all the noise. Between Gus cursing in the kitchen and the hearing aids of most of the customers apparently needing their batteries replaced, the room was buzzing.
    "I'm so happy for you, Bridget. I really am." She and her husband Tim had been trying to conceive for years. Procedure after procedure netted nothing but heartache and growing mountains of debt. They'd finally turned to IVF, in vitro fertilization, about two years ago, and gotten good news—until Bridget miscarried at eight weeks. She'd had several more pregnancies after that, all ending the same tragic way. No doctor could tell her why, or even offer any hope.
    "I know. Can you believe we weren't even trying?" Her ice blue eyes shone. "One day I wasn't feeling well . . ."
    "A miracle."
    Her eyes clouded, teared up. Her gaze dropped to the table's surface, decoupaged with old newspapers.
    "Bridget?"
    "Yes, a miracle," she murmured, tucking her laptop into a leather satchel at her feet.
    "Are you okay?"
    She waved my concern away. "Fine. Fine, really. I just get emotional sometimes." A quivery smile played on her lips. "How're you? Kevin? Riley? I keep hearing wonderful things about your business—you must be thrilled with its success."
    I pasted on my brightest, happiest, fakest smile and hoped it fooled her. "Everything's wonderful." I skipped right over Kevin and Riley and zoomed in on my work. "Business is growing so fast I can't keep up with it."
    "That's so great. You know, I'd love for you to come up with a baby-friendly design for us. Something Tim and I could work on ourselves. He loves those do-it-yourself shows—it's one of the reasons we bought our fixer-upper in the first place. We'd pay you, of course."
    "Nonsense! I'd love to do it as a gift for the baby. I can probably stop by later this week, take some measurements."
    Her face brightened. "Wonderful! Oh, I can't wait to see what you come up with. Everything's going so well for you. I couldn't be happier with your success. And your family too . . ."
    This subject needed to be redirected before she could ask anything specific about Kevin. I didn't need to drag her down with my worries. "So, Tim must be beside himself about the baby."
    "Oh, he is!" She leaned in, as much as her belly would allow. "Honestly, Nina, I don't know if we'd still be together if it weren't for this baby." Her blonde hair swung as she shook her head. "With everything we went through we had grown so far apart. We couldn't share our grief with each other and it pushed a wedge between us. Add the fighting about the bills on top of that . . ."
    "But everything's better now, right?" I interrupted, trying in vain to keep the conversation upbeat.
    She smiled. "The truth?"
    I nodded.
    "It's better. Not great, but better." Her lower lip trembled. "He hasn't touched me in months. Says he's afraid of hurting the baby."
    I reached across the table, took her hand. "I can understand that. After everything . . ."
    "I can too, I suppose. But it just hurts, y'know?"
    Oh, I knew. But I didn't think she needed to hear about my problems right now. "So, how far along are you?"
    "About seven months."
    My gaze zipped to her stomach. "Is it