When You Least Expect It: A Novel - Softcover

Gaskell, Whitney

 
9780553386271: When You Least Expect It: A Novel
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0553386271 ISBN 13: 9780553386271
Verlag: Bantam, 2010

Inhaltsangabe

From the celebrated author of Good Luck and Mommy Tracked, a funny and touching novel about the call to motherhood, the complexities of adoption, and the promise and peril of parenthood
 
India and Jeremy Halloway are happily married, have creative careers, and live in a remodeled bohemian cottage in a historic West Palm Beach neighborhood. The only thing missing from their charmed life is the baby they both desperately want. After two years of failed fertility treatments, they are cash-strapped and no closer to parenthood.  That’s when they decide it’s time to look into adoption. 

Lainey Walker’s unexpected pregnancy threatens to derail her dream of moving to Los Angeles and becoming a reality-TV star. She also finds herself homeless and alone when her unsupportive gym-rat boyfriend kicks her out of their apartment.

When the Halloways and Lainey are matched up through an adoption agency, India proposes an unorthodox solution that just might solve all their problems. But as these three are about to discover, a baby changes everything.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Whitney Gaskell grew up in Syracuse, New York. A graduate of Tulane Law School, she worked for several years as a reluctant lawyer before writing her first novel, Pushing 30, followed by True Love (and Other Lies); She, Myself & I; Testing Kate, and Mommy Tracked. She lives in Stuart, Florida, with her husband and son.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

One
INDIA
 
I’ve always loved the light by the ocean at the end of the day. Those magical moments, just as the sun is sinking low in the sky, when everything on the beach is cast in a rosy, golden glow. I raised my ever-present camera and snapped a few shots of Miles, Rose, and Luke as they played at the water’s edge. The three of them had found a stick and were taking it in turn to throw into the water for Otis, our black and white border collie mix. He barked happily and plunged into the foamy white surf after it.
 
“Otis is going to smell like a fish after this,” I said, lowering the camera.
 
Jeremy was in the middle of attempting to get the charcoals on the hibachi to catch fire. He looked up in Otis’s direction and grinned. Jeremy had an appealing, open face with a high forehead, long chin, and oversized, Jimmy Durante nose.
 
“Maybe he’s part fish. He’s always loved to swim,” he said, running a hand through his short red-brown hair until it stood up on end.
 
“It’s good to see him active. His arthritis has been so bad lately,” I said.
 
“Otis and I are both getting to be old men,” Jeremy agreed. He sat back on his heels, admiring the charcoal, which was now smoking nicely. It had been a warm day—typical weather for West Palm Beach in the late spring—but there was a breeze blowing off the water.
 
“Not so old,” I said, dropping a kiss on the top of his head. I settled down on the plaid blanket we’d spread out over the sand, and began to rummage through the cooler.
 
“What gourmet delicacies are we cooking up tonight? Breast of duck in a sour cherry reduction sauce? Beef tenderloin with roasted shallots?” Jeremy asked, settling down next to me on the blanket. He lay on his back, his hands folded behind his head, and closed his eyes.
 
“Hot dogs,” I said, holding up the plastic-wrapped package. “Followed by marshmallows.”
 
Jeremy opened one eye and squinted at me. “God, I love you,” he said reverently.
 
“Because I brought hot dogs?” I asked, smiling down at him.
 
“Partly because of the hot dogs. But mostly because of the marshmallows,” he said.
 
“Not just marshmallows,” I said. I rummaged in an oversized tote bag and pulled out a box of graham crackers and a six-pack of chocolate bars. “We’re going to make s’mores. Your favorite.”
 
“Will you marry me?”
 
“I’m already married to you.”
 
“Good thing. A woman who serves me processed meat products and s’mores. What more could any man want?” Jeremy said. He sat up, propping himself on bent arms. “Should I call the wild bunch up here?”
 
“Give them a few minutes. The hot dogs still have to cook,” I said, pulling a bunch of bamboo skewers out of the bag. I looked at them doubtfully. “Do you think these are long enough to roast the marshmallows on? I don’t want one of the kids to catch fire.”
 
“Yeah, we’d have a hard time explaining that to Mimi and Leo,” Jeremy said.
 
“They’d never let us babysit again,” I agreed.
 
The children belonged to my best friend, Mimi, and her husband, Leo. They were on a romantic overnight getaway to South Beach, so Miles, Rose, and Luke were spending the night with Jeremy and me.
 
“Are the coals hot enough?” I asked.
 
“They should be,” Jeremy said, reaching for the shrink-wrapped package of hot dogs. He pulled the dogs out and, one by one, dropped them on the grill.
 
While the hot dogs sizzled, I got out paper plates, napkins, mustard, and a bag of potato chips. The children, sensing food was imminent, abandoned the stick-tossing game and ran up the beach toward us. Otis, soggy but triumphant, followed them at a trot, proudly holding the stick in his mouth.
 
“I’m starving,” Miles announced, tripping just as he reached us. He tried to cover his embarrassment over this clumsiness by flopping down on the blanket, but his cheeks flushed red. Miles, ten, had recently gone through a growth spurt and was still getting used to his new longer legs and arms.
 
“You’re always hungry,” Rose said, daintily brushing the sand off her bare legs before sitting down cross-legged next to me. Rose, age eight, was our goddaughter. She was her mother in miniature—the same slanting dark eyes and full lips, an identical cloud of dark hair. The only traces of Leo were evident in her long nose and slightly squared chin.
 
“Look who’s talking,” Miles retorted. “Mom says that you eat more than you weigh on a daily basis.”
 
“Liar,” Rose said, but without much rancor.
 
Six-year-old Luke, who’d been unsuccessfully attempting to convince Otis to part with his stick, sat down next to his sister. He had a sturdier build than his lanky big brother and still had baby-rounded cheeks. His small, square feet were caked with sand. I considered brushing them off, but then decided it was a lost cause.
 
“What are you making for us?” Luke asked. He regarded me with large, suspicious brown eyes.
 
“Hot dogs,” I said as I handed out plates with rolls and chips on them. “There’s mustard here. Does anyone want ketchup? Or relish? I have chopped onions, too.”
 
“Dinner is served,” Jeremy said, setting a paper plate full of hot dogs down on the blanket. Miles and Rose fell on their dinners as though they hadn’t eaten in days, but Luke frowned and poked his hot dog suspiciously.
 
“I don’t like hot dogs,” he said.
 
Otis perked up at this. He sat down at the edge of the blanket and stared meaningfully at Luke’s hot dog.
 
“Yes you do,” Rose, Miles, and I said in unison.
 
Luke was going through a stage where he claimed not to like anything served to him, including foods he’d happily eaten since he was a baby.
 
“I don’t,” he insisted.
 
“Just try a bite,” Jeremy suggested.
 
Luke looked doubtful. Otis licked his chops.
 
“Hot dogs are really unhealthy,” I said.
 
“They are?” Luke asked.
 
I nodded solemnly. “In fact, your mom probably wouldn’t approve that I made them for you. I bet she’ll be really mad at me when she finds out.”
 
“That’s okay, we won’t tell,” Miles assured me. I winked at him, and he grinned.
 
Luke was intrigued. He picked up the hot dog and took a microscopic bite. Deciding that it was acceptable, he took another, larger bite. Otis drooped with disappointment.
 
“Do you know what hot dogs are made of?” Rose said conversationally. “They make them out of—”
 
I cut her off before she could complete her thought. “It’s probably better not to talk about it while we’re eating.”
 
Rose giggled. “But it’s really gross,” she said temptingly.
 
Luke looked up, his mouth full of hot dog. “What’s gross?”
 
“I can touch my eyeball,” Jeremy said quickly.
 
“Ewww!” Rose said, safely distracted.
...

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Verlag
Bantam
Erscheinungsdatum
2010
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0553386271
ISBN 13 
9780553386271
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
336
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar

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