High Anxiety by Charlotte Hughes Page B

must be Mona’s mother,” I said, giving her what I hoped was a welcoming smile.
    She returned it. “That’s right. And you’re Kate. Mona has told me all about you. I’m Willie-Mae Dalton.”
    I held out my hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Dalton.”
    “Call me Willie-Mae,” she said, squeezing my hand affectionately. Just then, the passenger door opened, and a very pregnant young woman climbed out. “Meet Tiara Tuttle,” Willie-Mae said. “I had to bring her with me on account of I’m her midwife.”
    Tiara looked to be in her midtwenties. She and I shook hands, even as she gawked at Mona’s house. “Holy cow, this is a big place,” she said. “How many people live here?”
    “Just Mona,” I said. “I’m here for emotional support.”
    “My whole family could fit in this house,” Tiara said, “and I’m related to half the people in Tennessee.” She looked at Willie-Mae. “How come you didn’t tell me your daughter lived in a mansion? She must be really rich.”
    “It didn’t cross my mind,” Willie-Mae said as she opened the back door of the van. “But then, money has never meant much to me.”
    “I’m glad I brought my camera,” Tiara said. “I’ve got to get pictures of this place. My friends won’t believe it.”
    Jimbo joined us and introduced himself to Willie-Mae. “I’m Mona’s chauffeur,” he said, “although I help out in other areas.” He glanced at me. “I have been instructed to keep everyone away from the house until Mona’s rash heals, so I’m trying to keep the place secure.”
    “I hope it’s okay that my patient and I are here,” Willie-Mae said, glancing my way. “Mona asked me to come.”
    “You’re more than welcome,” I said. “We’ve been expecting you.”
    Jimbo nodded. “Please allow me to take your luggage.” He reached for a large black satchel.
    “Don’t touch that!” Willie-Mae said so loudly that Jimbo snatched his hand away as though he’d just grabbed a hot coal. “That’s my medical bag,” she said.
    “Nobody is allowed to touch her medical bag,” Tiara whispered to me. “It’s sacred .”
    We headed toward the front door of the house with Jimbo on our heels, bearing suitcases, and Willie-Mae clutching her black bag.
    “When is your baby due?” I asked Tiara.
    “Not for a couple of weeks.” Without warning, her face scrunched up and she burst into tears.
    “Hush up, Tiara,” Willie-Mae said. “We don’t have time for nonsense. Besides, it’s not good for the baby.”
    “Did I say something wrong?” I asked Willie-Mae.
    Willie-Mae shook her head. “It’s her hormones.”
    “That’s not the only reason,” Tiara said.
    “Her husband is in the armed forces,” Willie-Mae said. “He was deployed six months ago.”
    Tiara sniffed and swiped at her tears. “He won’t be here when the baby comes,” she said. “It’s our first.”
    “I’m sorry to hear it, Tiara,” I said, feeling genuinely sad for her.
    Willie-Mae’s look softened, and she rubbed Tiara’s back. “That’s why I brought my digital camera. We’ll take plenty of pictures and e-mail them to Wayne.”
    A sleepy Mona met us at the front door, and we went inside. Willie-Mae set her bag down and hugged her daughter, but Mona’s gaze was fixed on Tiara. “Let me look at you,” Willie-Mae said, taking a step back. She frowned. “I thought you said you had a terrible rash.”
    “What do you call this?” Mona said, pointing to several small red patches on her face.
    Willie-Mae looked from Mona to me. “She has always put too much stock in her looks,” she said. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told her, real beauty comes from the inside.”
    “I don’t think inner beauty would have won me all those beauty pageants,” Mona quipped, “or the money that came with them. If not for the outer kind of beauty, I would still be living in the mountains.”
    Willie-Mae gave a snort. “Like that’s a bad thing,” she