Chapter 7: The Sonogram

On Saturday morning half our street was raking leaves, and Kendall chose that hour to park in front of our house.

I saw her through the front window with a coffee in my hand.

She got out of a white sedan in a camel coat.

She carried a small gift bag with tissue paper sticking out the top.

"Lena," I said. "Don't open the door."

Lena was on the stairs with a basket of laundry.

She set the basket down on the bottom step.

"Why not?"

"Because she's here to make a scene."

"Then we should let her have a good audience," Lena said, and opened the door.

Kendall stood on the porch with a bright, tender face.

Across the street, a neighbor stopped raking.

Two houses down, a man cut his leaf blower off in the middle of a pile.

"Lena," Kendall said. "I hope this is okay. I wanted you to hear it from me, not from the office."

"Come in," Lena said. "It's cold."

"I'll only be a minute." Kendall stayed on the porch, where the street could see her. "Is Nolan home?"

"Nolan," Lena called, without turning her head. "Come say hello."

I came out holding my coffee, because it was the only thing I could think of to hold.

Kendall smiled at me with an open, trembling face, and I understood she had rehearsed it in the car.

"I'm not here to take anything away from anyone," she said, loud enough to carry. "I know how hard the last few years have been for you two."

Lena nodded gravely.

"But this is happening, and I wanted you to be the first to know, Lena. I wanted you to be part of it."

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