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them by the back door, hoping they 'd disintegrate overnight.
    The creaking side door opened into the utility room, which housed not only the washer and dryer, but most of my shoe collection and an assortment of cleaning supplies. As I headed for the kitchen, I suddenly realized I hadn 't had to unlock the door to get inside. I knew I'd locked it that morning—I'd become rather OCD about the locks after one too many break-ins. Wary, I grabbed a hockey stick from next to the dryer and tiptoed into the kitchen, my weapon aimed high.
    I noticed three things straight off. One was that someone had been rummaging through my cupboards and drawers. Another was the strong scent of Chanel perfume in the air. And the third was a tiny puddle of pee in the middle of the floor.
    Letting out a sigh, I leaned the hockey stick against the island, grabbed a paper towel to wipe up the pee, and tried to get my adrenaline to stop pumping. After washing my hands, I strode into the living room, looking for my intruder and her accomplice. "Maria!"
    My very pregnant sister appeared at the top of the stairs, a guilty flush darkening her full cheeks. "Nina! I didn't know you were home. Your truck is still across the street."
    I folded my arms and tapped my foot as she carefully navigated the stairs. Each step was a hazard simply because she couldn 't see her feet. Her enormous belly blocked the view of anything south of her navel.
    " Don't look at me like that," she said, pouting.
    She was a master pouter. Seriously, she could give lessons. However, I had spent my whole life building up immunity. "You promised me the last time I caught you breaking in that you weren't going to do it again. Plus, you're supposed to be on bed rest, remember? How did you even get here? And where's Gracie?"
    Gracie was my sister 's mostly blind, mostly incontinent Chihuahua. Lately, she'd also become mostly deaf. The only thing she had going for her was her innate cuteness—and my sister's adoration.
    " Gracie's around here somewhere," Maria said. "Check under the couch."
    In her pre-pregnant days Maria most ly resembled Grace Kelly. These days...she looked more like a relative of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.
    Pregnancy hadn 't been kind to her, or easy. A few months ago she swelled up and was diagnosed with a case of mild preeclampsia and prescribed bed rest. Her cheeks had puffed up and her ankles had puffed out. As she neared the end of her pregnancy, her bed rest orders had become stricter—the baby's lungs weren't quite mature yet and no one wanted a premature delivery.
    At Christmastime she thought she was two months pregnant but a later ultrasound confirmed it to be closer to three. Her due date was in three weeks.
    Maria's husband, Nate, and our mother had been taking turns caring for her. But my mother and father had just left on a long-planned cruise around Fiji so Nate had taken vacation time from his new job to stay home and look after Maria—who had a tendency to forget doctor's orders. She simply was not one to sit still for long and the bed rest was driving her crazy.
    Therefore she drove everyone around her crazy as well.
    I crouched down. Sure enough, Gracie was under the sofa, curled into a little ball snoozing away. Her "mostly" deaf might have become "totally" deaf over the last couple of months—she hadn't heard me come in at all. "She's there. Sleeping."
    " She's been tired lately." There was wistfulness in her voice, an acknowledgement that her beloved pet probably wasn't going to live forever. However, I fully believed Gracie had a few more good years left in her.
    Maria waddled toward the couch and slowly lowered herself down onto a cushion, expelling a long breath as she did so. Letting her head fall back onto a pillow, she said, "My doctor let me off bed rest now that the baby's lungs are mature. We set the date for the induction."
    This was news. "You did? When is it?"
    " A week from today, after Mom and Dad get home from their trip. I