Chow Down (A Melanie Travis Mystery)

of energy. It had been so long since I’d been pregnant with Davey that I didn’t remember what I’d felt like then. Nor did I have any idea whether I should expect to feel the same now. On the other hand, there was also the distinct possibility that it was all just wishful thinking on my part.
    But whatever malaise was dragging me down, it was enough to make me spend much of the evening in a lounge chair on the deck, watching the bulk of the festivities from the sidelines. After a while, Sam came over and sat down on the end of the chaise.
    I moved my legs to make room for him. His hand drifted down onto my knee, fingers moving over the warm skin absently. I loved that part about being married: the touching that was just that easy and comfortable.
    “You okay?” he asked.
    “I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”
    “Want me to bring you something to eat?”
    I’d nibbled around the edges of a hamburger earlier, but passed up corn on the cob and potato salad. Now Frank and Bertie were serving up a watermelon. It looked cool, and pink, and juicy, but I couldn’t seem to work up any desire to have a slice.
    “No thanks, I’m fine. Really.”
    “You’re sure? You didn’t eat much dinner.”
    I hadn’t realized he’d been watching. Another benefit to being married: when it came to my well-being, Sam didn’t miss much. After years of looking out for myself and Davey, it was nice to have someone looking after me for a change.
    “I’m just not hungry.”
    “You? Not hungry? That must be . . .” He started to grin, then abruptly the words died in his throat and his expression shifted. His eyes dropped to the region of my stomach, then came back up. “Anything you want to tell me?”
    “Not yet,” I said softly. “At the moment, I’m still in the hopeful stage. As soon as I know for sure . . .”
    “When?” Sam tried not to sound impatient; he didn’t entirely succeed.
    I’d already read the instructions on the pregnancy kit and done the calculations. “Soon. Just give me a couple more days.”
    “Anything you want.” His hand was still resting on my knee. He squeezed gently before pulling it away.
    “A girl,” I said, “with your eyes and your smile.”
    He stood and looked down at me. “I’ll do my best.”
    Sam went back to our guests who were, for once, on their best behavior. By some unspoken agreement, no one tried to make me eat dessert or help clean up. They didn’t drag me over to join in the games of croquet or frisbee football that sprang up after dinner.
    Even Aunt Peg refrained from badgering me about the latest scoop on the contest. Sam must have filled her in and she’d decided that getting her information secondhand was good enough.
    Faith never left my side all night. And when the rest of the Poodles grew tired of running around the yard, they came and flopped in a semicircle around my chair. It was a little like having my own canine honor guard and I appreciated their quiet company.
    The sun finally began to dip low in the sky. Bertie lit the scented candles we had scattered around the deck. Frank turned on the bug-zapper. Clutching her stuffed dog to her chest, Maggie fell asleep in her baby seat. Davey was looking ready for bed himself.
    As Sam helped Frank and Bertie load a mound of baby essentials and leftover food into their car, Davey scrambled up into the tree house. Aunt Peg had brought an American flag to decorate his new outdoor abode. Now as she supervised from the ground, the two of them debated where it could be hung to best effect.
    While that was going on, Bob strolled over to say goodnight.
    Over the previous decade, Bob’s and my relationship had been as tumultuous as a roller-coaster ride. We’d been in love, and we’d been close to hating one another. We’d lived together for several years, then been apart and not speaking for more time than that.
    Recently we’d finally reached a stage of equanimity. Bob wasn’t just my ex-husband and Davey’s father. He was a real friend now, and the relationship that had evolved had come as a bit of a surprise to both of us.
    Like Sam, he sat down on the end of the lounger. Unlike my husband, Bob was careful not to sit too close. His expression when he looked at me was equal parts gratified and wistful.
    “Congratulations,” he said softly. “I know how much you’ve wanted this.”
    I pushed myself forward and sat up straight. “Wanted what?”
    “A new baby. A little brother or sister for