Perfectly Reasonable by Linda O'Connor Page B

week, so we can blitz the rest and get it done.” She slipped the key in the lock and pushed open the door. “Go ahead.”
    Margo looked around at the walls of the front hallway as she slipped off her coat. “Good job here, Chloe. Much as I love color, you can’t go wrong with your basic Frost on Glass white.”
    “I know. It always looks so fresh and clean,” Chloe said, slipping off her coat and hanging it on the banister. “I finished the bathrooms, living room, kitchen, and one bedroom. I prepped the walls for the master and the two other bedrooms, so it’s just the painting left.”
    “Perfect. We should be able to get it done today and tomorrow. What color have they chosen?”
    “White, white, and more white,” Chloe said.
    Margo raised surprised brows. Sounded like the homeowners planned to sell. “Makes it easier.”
    Chloe sipped her tea and nodded. “The bedrooms are all upstairs. I’ll show you.” She led the way up a curved staircase, down a hallway, and through a set of double doors to the master bedroom. The furniture, pushed to the center of the room, had been covered in plastic, and the curtains and rods had been taken down.
    “Looks good. Let’s get started,” Margo said.
    With the ease of a routine developed over working together for six months, Margo picked out a brush to do the edging. She pried the lid off the paint can, dipped a stir stick in, and swirled it around.
    Chloe prepared a paint tray and slid a new sleeve on the roller brush. “You were quick at the Johnson place.”
    “It wasn’t as big as this job. They added a family room and changed the study into a baby’s room. She’s expecting twins,” Margo said with a grin.
    “No. Really? How does Neal feel about that?”
    “Looks a bit shell-shocked,” Margo said. “But happy. They both seem really happy. I think they’ve lined up most of their relatives to help them in the first few weeks.”
    “When’s she due?”
    “Any day now. I was happy to finish up. I haven’t delivered a baby in a while, and I wasn’t keen to practice.”
    “Do you miss it?” Chloe asked as she rolled the first coat on.
    Margo shrugged. “Sometimes. Some parts. Some parts I don’t miss at all.”
    “I’d miss it.”
    Margo laughed. “How do you know?”
    “How can you not? You’re a doctor. It’s not a regular Joe job. All that doctor knowledge floating in your head, going to waste. Doctor blood flowing through your veins. Don’t you feel like reaching out and helping someone every day?”
    Margo looked over at her with surprise. “Absolutely. That’s why I’m here now. You need help. I’m helping.”
    Chloe shook her head. “No, really. Like doing CPR at the library. Delivering a baby in a taxi. Removing someone’s appendix.”
    Margo snorted. “Sounds very glamorous.”
    “Yes. That’s it exactly. It’s so glamorous. How can you give that up?”
    Margo focused on making the edge clean and straight. “It’s not all popcorn and cherry blossoms. Sometimes it’s heartbreaking and . . . hard.”
    Chloe dipped the roller brush in the tray and rolled off the excess paint. “Sure it is. That’s why they call it M.D. . . . mucho difficulto. That’s why you get the big bucks.”
    “What if it’s not worth the money? What if it’s too hard?”
    “I suppose you need to suck it up, buttercup, as my mother would say. Life is hard. Doesn’t mean you give up. Look at me. I want a baby, and I thought I was all set. Life with Roger was breezing along. Life was good, and then, bam. He up and tells me that he doesn’t ever want kids. Not, I might not. Not, I’m a little scared of the little rugrats. Nope. It was a big emphatic NO. It was a deal breaker. Good-bye Roger. Was that difficult? Yes. Did I give up? No. I’m going to have a baby.”
    Margo looked over. “Really?”
    “Absolutely. They may have to squirt the little swimmers in with a turkey baster, but it’s going to happen. You can’t always stick with white