Page 23 of Dropping the Ball

She hoists herself out of her chair and disappears into the hallway.

Kaitlyn blinks at the empty doorway and turns back to me. “Itty-bitty bladder committee.”

“Sounds uncomfortable.”

“Let’s move the deejay. But since we didn’t go up to the loft before, I’d like to come check it out.”

“Monday afternoon work?”

We choose a time before moving on to an overview of the construction next week.

“We need to build the frame,” I explain, “and since we’re working with reclaimed rebar, it’s going to take welding. That will take most of the week because the scale of this thing . . .” I trail off as the tickle of an idea has me staring into the distance, trying to visualize if it could work.

“Are you okay?” Kaitlyn asks. “Because if the architect is overwhelmed by the scope of this project, that makes me nervous.”

I focus on her. “Yeah, fine. Just wondering if we should take this thing even bigger. I was trying to run the time and costs inmy head, but I’ll do that later and send it over to you tomorrow if the numbers add up.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not a risk taker. I prefer taking shots I know I’ll make, but it’s obvious why you and Madison work so well together. You both think big.”

“Katie, Oliver wants to talk to you.” Madison stands in the doorway, holding out her phone.

“Your face is weird,” Kaitlyn says. “Everything okay?”

Madison’s only answer is to wave the phone.

Kaitlyn hops up to take it. “Oliver?”

Her eyes widen as she studies her sister. “You’re in labor?” Her voice ends two octaves higher than usual.

I jump up at the word “labor,” then freeze. My instinct is to help, but I’ve never been in this situation before.

Madison grimaces. “No contractions, but I think my water broke? Is breaking? I swear I took notes in pregnant lady class, but I’m forgetting all of them. I’ve got a slow leak happening.”

I scan her, not sure what I’m supposed to be looking for. A baby poking its head out from beneath her hem?

“I can drive her,” Kaitlyn is telling her brother-in-law, “but shouldn’t we call an ambulance?” She listens for a few seconds. “Okay, right, yes, we’ll meet you at the hospital.”

She hangs up without remembering to say goodbye and thrusts the phone at Madison, who bobbles it, but Kaitlyn is in action mode and already pulling her purse from a desk drawer.

“Sorry to cut this short,” she says as she digs inside it.

“Go,” I say. “Do what you need to do.”

She curses, smacking her purse onto the desk. “Stupid keys.”

“We’re not taking your car,” Madison objects.

Kaitlyn looks over at her. “You can’t drive yourself through rush hour to have a baby.”

Madison rests her hand on her stomach—which, wait, did it double in size?—and glares. “I am not wrestling myself into your stupid Audi.”

“It is low,” Kaitlyn concedes.

“And my car has the baby seat,” Madison adds.

“Your car,” Kaitlyn says, already moving toward the door with shooing motions. “Let’s go.”

“Calm down, we have time,” Madison protests.

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