Page 21 of Dropping the Ball

At my desk, I text Madison before I tackle the next round of phone calls I need to make about silent auction items.

Do you have a baby yet?

Fun pregnancy facts from Oliver: only 5% of babies arrive on their due date. 11% arrive early. The restcome late. Went to doc yesterday. Harper hasn’t dropped since last week.

IS THAT BAD?

NO

It’s normal. She’ll drop when she’s ready to be born. She’s hanging out in Club Womb for a while.

You only have two days until your due date. It could happen.

Doubtful. Going to have a watermelon sitting on my bladder for another week. Distract me.

Decided to grow up and made a mature CEO decision. Bringing Micah in for a meeting this afternoon. Grudge? What grudge?

(Confetti emojis) Good job!

What time?

I’m coming

What no

Yes. Going crazy waiting. My back hurts. I NEED A DISTRACTION.

No. I don’t know how to deliver a baby.

ONE WEEK. What time?

. . .

. . .

Will call Suz to tell me your schedule

4:00. Don’t come.

She sends me a string of kissy lip emojis.

Chapter Nine

Micah

Madison and I arriveat the Threadwork office at the same time. Madison smiles and says, “Follow me.”

I do, and she pokes her head through the door of an office that’s been empty in the handful of times I’ve come here before.

“Knock, knock,” she says. “I found a stray in the parking lot and brought him with me.”

She walks in, and I follow, giving Kaitlyn a quick nod because I’m distracted watching Madison try to settle herself into her chair. It’s kind of like watching a flamingo with a basketball strapped to its stomach try to situate itself on a tricycle while wearing a long skirt. I hover beside her as she grasps the chair arms and slowly lowers herself, not sure how I can help, but everything in my training about force, mass, and momentum says this can’t possibly work. But a few seconds later, she’s in the chair, and I take the other seat and hide a sigh of relief.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Madison says.

She’s teasing Kaitlyn, who hasn’t done anything in here yet. It’s a standard office suite. The reception area has framed photos of the Marigold Institute building and students at work,alternating with woven mats and bowls in orange, turquoise, and red. Madison’s touch for sure. Kaitlyn’s office is a blank slate, a few frames leaning against one wall, faced in so I’m not sure what’s on them.

“I kept waiting for you to start nesting over here,” she tells Madison. “I conned you into doing my house. I thought for sure I could sucker you into doing my office.”

---