Let's Be Frank (50 page)
And I haven’t wanted to stop holding her since then. Unfortunately, a week after her birth, I had to go back to work. But when I’m home and awake (and sometimes when I’m not awake, although I try to resist the urge to nap with her, having heard way too many horror stories about smothered infants), she’s in my arms. That’s how it goes. Even Reba’s used to it by now.
Actually, Reba’s been surprisingly chill. I think she’s convinced Georgia’s a puppy, and she, Reba, has to protect her. Whatever the reason, we haven’t had any issues with her freaking out around the baby. She’s still not thrilled about older kids, but over the past year, we’ve exposed her to more children in controlled settings, and we hope being around
our
child every day since her birth will make Georgia the exception to the rule.
I also think Reba recognizes there’s no contest between her and the baby. Probably because I told her so in no uncertain terms when Reba got her first sniff of Georgia. “You even look at her funny, and I’ll kill you, Rebes. Not even kidding. I love ya, but I won’t hesitate.” As if to demonstrate her agreement with my tough-talking demands, she gave Georgia a gentle lick on the tip of her nose, turned tail, and walked away, as if she had much more interesting business to attend to in another room.
Betty turned down the corners of her mouth at me and bobbed her head. “Well. There you have it. All that worry for nothing.”
I snorted. “I wasn’t worried.”
She pushed my shoulder, then we stared down at our baby.
“She’s real,” Betty said, rubbing her belly, as if to prove it to herself. “I mean, two days ago, she was here.” Her hands stilled but remained on her midriff. “And now… she’s there.” She pointed to the infant carrier on the couch. “And I got to take her home with me.”
I’d been waiting for her to acknowledge this wasn’t her first experience with childbirth, but until then she seemed determined not to mention it, and it wasn’t my place to push it. I hoped she knew I was there if she needed or wanted to talk, but I wasn’t going to force her to relive something painful.
I didn’t know how to verbally respond to her statement, so I simply put my arm around her shoulders and squeezed her to me.
She rested her head against my pec but kept her focus on our daughter. “And I gave another couple this feeling, all those years ago. So… that’s pretty cool.”
“Pretty cool, indeed,” I finally managed to say, when I was able to speak.
She quickly changed the subject, saying something about “unpacking our new toy” as she undid all the straps holding Georgia in her seat.
Tonight, she deftly changes the subject again. “Tell everyone your good news.”
“Oh. That.” I pass the last side dish across the table to Nick and place my napkin in my lap. “Um. It’s not a big deal.”
“Yes, it is!” Betty insists.
“Well, I mean, it is. To me. To us. But not earth-shattering, or anything.”
“Spit it out already,” Nick demands. “You’re worse than a woman sometimes with your qualifiers and provisos. These babies will have graduated high school, and we’ll still be sitting here, waiting for you to tell us you’re having hemorrhoid surgery, or whatever.”
“Nick!” Mom admonishes.
I laugh. “No. It’s okay. He’s right. I… Well, the final ruling came in on the cease and desist against Frankie for using my image on her books. I won, of course. And she has to pay me a percentage of every sale she made as ‘Frank Lipton’ between last September and now.”
“Honey, that’s great!” Mom cries, waking up Georgia, who spits out her unsecured pacifier and lets rip an angry howl.
Without any argument, Mom hands the crying baby and the pacifier back to me. I pat Georgia’s butt and replace her binkie, which she sucks more lustily than before.
Betty picks up the pace on her eating. “I’ll be done in a sec.”
“No rush,” I reassure her. “She can wait a few minutes to eat. You take your time.”
Staying with the original conversation, Dad growls, “It’s about time. And it’s sad that Frankie needed a judge to tell her all that.”
Nick swallows his mouthful of food and says, “So, between that and the rental income on Betty’s house and your pay raise in January, after you’ve finished your practitioner certification, you’ll be rolling in it, Bro.”
I laugh. “Hardly. Those royalties will be going straight into Georgia’s college fund, anyway. I’m mostly happy it’s over, and Frankie has a court order to stop hiding behind my face. And the raise in January is a bonus to what I really want at work, which is more autonomy. But you’re right; it’s nice not to have to worry so much about money, since there’s one more mouth to feed at home now.”
Heidi smiles enigmatically across the table and sets her fork down next to her plate. “Speaking of more mouths to feed…” She grabs Nick’s hand on top of the table. He plasters a forced smile on his face. “We’re expecting another baby!” she finishes with a tiny squeal.
Betty kicks me under the table. I shift in my seat and hide my “ow” in, “Wow! That’s great!” Really, I’m silently cursing that I lost the bet Betty and I had going about how soon Nick and Heidi would be having their second child. I said Nick would make Heidi wait until Mossimo was at least a year old. I should have known better than to bet against Heidi. Damn it.
“Thanks, Natey!” Heidi says, patting her flat belly. “It’s still early, but we figured it was safe to tell family. We’re due next March.”
While Mom, Dad, and Betty offer their congratulations, Nick mouths across the table at me,
“Help me! Vag rage!”
causing me to nearly baptize my daughter with the drink of water I’ve taken.
My reaction wipes the grimace from my brother’s face, but he hides his laughter behind his fist.
“What’s so funny, you two?” Mom demands.
Nick and I answer together, “Nothing!” then dissolve into giggles like two teenage girls.
“Some things never change,” Dad remarks with a shake of his head as he returns his attention to the food on his plate.
Some things don’t. Then again, many things have. And for that, I’m grateful.
Acknowledgments
So many people to thank, so little space! But here we go! When a book takes as long as this one did to write and goes through so many permutations, there are a LOT of support people to thank.
As far as large groups are concerned, I need to thank the folks in ChickLitChat HQ for their much-needed input on choosing a title and the Chick Lit Goddesses and WIP Support Group for being there when I needed to cry, rage, despair, and threaten to give up writing forever. It helps to know people who don’t roll their eyes at my melodramatics, because they don’t have to live in the same house—or town—as me. You guys have done a wonderful job of saying, “There, there,” and holding my virtual hand through a lot of dark moments. I’m always glad to return the favor.
More specifically, Kathleen, Tracie, Laura, and Martha… thank you for pep talk after pep talk, valuable insight and input, and all-around girl-power camaraderie. You’ve seen me at my worst and still choose to be friends with me. I don’t know what that says about you (ha ha), but it tells me that I’m one lucky woman to have such lovely friends.
Which brings me to blurb-writing. In the past, I’ve employed the expert services of
Ms. Francine LaSala
(hire her; you won’t regret it), and I so longed for Francine’s expertise this time around, but I was resolved to do it myself. Like a big girl. I won’t bore you with all the depressing reasons. Well. The experience stank as much as I remembered. But with the help of fellow writers Martha Reynolds (author of the amazing
Chocolate
…
trilogy and
Bits of Broken Glass
) and Tracie Banister (author of
Blame It On the Fame
and
In Need of Therapy
), I managed to do it without inflicting any self-harm. Martha instilled the confidence I needed and helped with word choice, while Tracie urged me to “chick lit” it up and provide readers with more info about the plot (I’m stingy and paranoid about spoilers). What resulted was something I was proud to attach to my book. Thanks, ladies! You’re the best! (Francine, expect a message from me for future books, though.)
I always have a great group of beta readers, and this time was no exception. However, the beta readers for
Let’s Be Frank
were exceptionally awesome. I asked them to read a 114,000-word book during the holidays and get back to me as soon as possible, and every single one of them did it. Not only that, but they returned with amazing comments, suggestions, and catches of some pretty epic mistakes that would have caused major embarrassment had they not been caught. Amy, Martha, Sharon, Hans, Bethany, Vickie, Laura… thank you! You made Nurse Nate a much better man and
Let’s Be Frank
a much better book.
They weren’t the first beta readers, though. I’d like to say a special thank you to Cindy and Heather for reading the very first-ever draft of this book, back when it wasn’t really this book but merely the concept that eventually became this book. Thank you for being brave enough to say, “This isn’t your best work,” and for forcing me to rethink the entire project. Several times. If it hadn’t been for you, I would have published a book that was “okay” but didn’t live up to the potential of the idea. That would have been really sad, I think. I would have always wondered how good it
could
have been, if only I’d worked a little (okay a LOT) harder at it. You’re Nurse Nate’s heroes. Oh, and mine, too.
Thanks also to my husband, who gave up his solitary early-mornings so I could work on this book before getting the kids up for school each day. I really enjoyed our quiet together-but-not-really-talking-to-each-other time as you watched ESPN before going to work and I sat with my earbuds in my ears and my nose against my laptop monitor and furiously typed draft after draft after draft of this infernal book. Thanks for listening to Nurse Nate stories. Thanks for giving me advice and insight into the male psyche, which I then invariably disregarded as not attractive enough for a chick lit audience. (Sorry, but we like our guys slightly… well… realistically unrealistic.) Thanks for
not
punching me all those times I whined and complained about never being finished with this book. I can only imagine how you felt the second time I said, “I have to start all over again, from scratch.” But you held up so well. You’re my rock. A lesser man would have taken the kids and run.
As for the rest of you who have stuck by me, you patient readers and friends and family members, thank you! I’d like to especially thank the insatiable fans of
The Secret Keeper
series for giving me the time away from
TSK
to write something different. I know you’re anxious for the next
TSK
installment, but I also hope you read
Let’s Be Frank
and decided it was worth waiting a little longer for the continuation of the series you love. Your unselfishness has been inspiring. And I promise to get to work in earnest on
TSK VI
as soon as possible. I already have a good start and many, many exciting ideas. Just a little more patience, please!
And while I’m at it, a preemptive thanks for the reviews and kind words you’ll have for
Let’s Be Frank,
not because it’s the best book ever written (as if!), but because you’re always so generous with your praise, and I know that will never change. Thank you!
About the Author
Brea Brown lives in Springfield, Missouri, with her three sons and her wonderful, understanding, overworked husband. Her previously-published books are:
The Secret Keeper Up All Night
Coming in 2015:
Let’s Be Real (Nurse Nate Trilogy Book 2)
Out of My League (Underdog Trilogy Book 1)
When she’s not writing, she hangs out on Facebook (
www.facebook.com/breabrownauthor
) and dabbles in blogging (
http://www.breabrown.com/thereluctantblogger
). Please, take a minute to send her a message on
Facebook
, or you can contact her via email at
http://www.breabrown.com
.