Expectations. Brenda Novak

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      AFTER GETTING a couple of rooms ready in case they had some drive-by business that evening, Jenna went to her studio, planning to spend the morning finishing her stained-glass window of the lake and trees. Pamela, the maid, had the day off, and Mr. Robertson wouldn’t be in until four o’clock to start dinner, so she was alone, and grateful for the solitude.

      Flipping on the space heater to get rid of the chill, she studied the glass she’d cut before bed the night before and decided to start leading the window. She had a penciled drawing of the finished work on the table under the glass. But the telephone interrupted her before she could begin.

      “Hello?”

      “Hi, Jen. It’s me.” Laura Wakefield was the one friend Jenna had grown up with in Mendocino who hadn’t married or moved away. She still lived with her parents, just a few miles down the highway, and helped her mother care for her father, a victim of Alzheimer’s.

      “Laura, what are you doing up this early? It’s only eleven o’clock. You never roll out of bed before noon.”

      “A fringe benefit of working the late shift.”

      “You manage a seafood restaurant that closes at ten. That’s hardly the late shift.”

      “Well, it’s not the early shift, either, which means I can sleep in if I want. Anyway, today I thought I’d drive over to Fort Bragg to see a matinee. Feel like coming with me?”

      Jenna considered the work in progress waiting on her table. “I’m working on the lake piece. Then I’ve got to see about ordering more brochures for the Victoriana. And I promised Mrs. Durham I’d finish their website. So I’d better pass for today.” She considered telling Laura about Adam’s being in town, then decided against it. Her friend would want to know exactly how she felt about seeing him for the first time in fifteen years, and Jenna didn’t want to identify her feelings, let alone talk about them.

      She realized that if she spent much time with Laura, she’d end up telling her anyway, but that didn’t stop her from extending the usual invitation. “Want to come over for a cup of coffee before you go?”

      “No. I’m going to have a shower and color my hair.”

      “You are? You’ve never colored your hair before.”

      “I know, but my dad’s sister is in town. She’s helping take care of him and I’m ready for a change, and one of the waitresses at the restaurant said I should go blond.”

      “As in bleach blond?”

      “Is there any other kind for a brunette?”

      “Oh, no, Laura, think of the roots.”

      “It’ll be a hassle, but if I do it often enough—”

      “You’ll ruin the texture of your hair.”

      “I take it you don’t like the idea.”

      “I think you’ll regret it.”

      “Hmm. Maybe I will. Anyway, my stomach’s a bit queasy. I should probably just go back to sleep.”

      Reminded of her own nausea, and the baby, Jenna put a hand to her stomach. “I’ve got something to tell you,” she said.

      “So tell me.”

      “I’m pregnant.”

      “What?”

      Jenna held the phone away from her ear, but she was too late to avoid the blast of Laura’s exclamation.

      “I’m pregnant,” she repeated.

      “Oh, my gosh! And I thought you led this chaste little life. Where have you been going without me?”