Winter Break by Merry Jones Page B

package on the table in the foyer. Lunch was ready; she’d call the post office later.
    ‘I’ve been thinking about Louise.’ Vivian poured whiskey into her Diet Coke.
    Louise?
    ‘Louis, if it’s a boy.’
    Really? Her mother was thinking of names for her child?
    ‘Well, do you like them?’
    Harper took her time, kept her voice calm. ‘Actually, Hank and I haven’t talked about names yet—’
    ‘Well, that’s why I’m suggesting Louise.’
    ‘Why Louise?’ Harper dug her knife into her tuna melt.
    Vivian looked surprised at the question. ‘It was my favorite great-aunt’s middle name. I think she should be remembered.’
    ‘And I thought you wanted to name it after me,’ Lou swallowed beer, grinning.
    Vivian nodded. ‘Well, that, too.’ She chewed. ‘I’m thinking Louise Rosalind. Or Louise Evelyn. Those names are important to me. Rosalind was my cousin—’
    ‘Ma. Thank you, but Hank and I will choose the name by ourselves.’
    Vivian looked slapped. ‘I’m just trying to help.’
    Harper took a breath. ‘Fine.’
    ‘Here it goes again.’ Lou sat back in his chair. ‘You two go at it like an old married couple. We need a damn meditator here.’
    A meditator? Harper frowned. He must mean mediator.
    ‘Pass the potato chips?’ Lou reached an arm out.
    Vivian handed him the basket of chips, then sat up straight, folding her napkin beside her plate, about to leave the table.
    ‘Excuse me, Harper,’ she huffed. ‘Sorry if I overstepped, but I am the baby’s grandmother. And I was just trying—’
    ‘Ma. Please. Let it go. Let’s change the subject, can we?’
    ‘Why are you so short with me?’ Vivian blinked at Harper. ‘I just wanted to help you.’
    ‘Thanks, Ma.’ Harper took a bite of her sandwich, determined to avoid an all-out fight.
    For a while, nobody spoke. Finally, Harper changed the subject.
    ‘So, Lou. Tell me about yourself.’
    ‘Me?’
    ‘Yeah. Where are you from?’
    ‘Midwest. Ever hear of Cicero? It’s outside Chicago.’
    ‘And what’s your line of work?’
    Lou eyed Harper, then turned back to his food. ‘I’m in business. Transportation.’ As if that explained it.
    ‘He owns trucks,’ Vivian said. ‘I told you.’
    ‘No offense, Harper, but I don’t discuss business while I’m eating. It’s bad for the digestive track.’
    ‘Tract,’ Harper corrected him without thinking. ‘With a “t”.’
    He tilted his head and licked his lips. ‘So. You found me out: I never went to college.’
    ‘Some of us didn’t get the advantages you did,’ Vivian chided. ‘Some of us have had to make do without—’
    ‘I don’t do without, Viv,’ Lou cut her off. ‘I do just fine. I didn’t need a college degree to do okay, did I?’ Suddenly, he was jolly again. Wearing a generous, self-satisfied grin. ‘I can buy and sell these college kids.’
    ‘That’s right, Lou. You’ve done great.’ Vivian smiled cautiously.
    Harper drank water and reached for the chips. Lunch was going swimmingly.
    When lunch was finally over, Vivian suggested that they decorate the tree.
    Harper tried to think of an excuse. Said she had to work on her dissertation.
    ‘Come on, Harper. Just an hour.’ Vivian grabbed her hand, began pulling her down the hall.
    Harper stopped resisting. What was the point? Her mother would never understand that she didn’t want Styrofoam glitter and tinsel all over her living room. And she wanted to reduce the tension between them.
    ‘Okay. But only for half an—’ Harper stopped, feeling a tickle. She put a hand on her belly. ‘Baby’s moving.’
    Vivian’s eyes lit up, and she placed a hand beside Harper’s.
    ‘I don’t know if you can feel it from the outside, but it’s whirling around in there.’
    They were standing at the base of the stairs, their hands on Harper’s tummy, when Lou came out of the kitchen.
    ‘What?’ His eyes widened. ‘You okay?’
    Harper grinned. ‘Baby’s doing cartwheels.’
    ‘I got nothing.’