“No.”
Kevin laughed in her ear. “Come on. It’s even colder in the hallway than it is outside. Ma’s already complaining.”
Beth bolted upright in the bed, the covers falling to her waist. “Your mother’s here?”
Great. At least if it was cold enough, maybe her baby’s grandparents wouldn’t be overcome by the eau de cat piss. Way to make a great impression.
“Pop’s here, too. Answer the damn door.” Then he knocked again, just in case she didn’t get the point.
“How did you find out my address?”
“I traded Celtics tickets for it. And I’m not telling you who.”
“I hope whoever got them enjoys the game, but go away.”
“Come on, Beth. They were really good seats.”
“Not cool, Kevin,” she said into the phone before she hung up on him.
He knocked louder. Dammit, he was going to upset the neighbors. And if they complained and she got evicted because of a disturbance, she wouldn’t get her deposit back.
Beth sighed and hopped out of bed, pausing long enough to pull on her old, fuzzy bathrobe before unlocking the door. She left the chain on and opened the door a crack.
“Stop knocking,” she hissed.
“Let us in and I won’t have to knock.”
“You can’t just drop in unannounced this early in the morning.”
He leaned in close to the crack and eyed her attire. “Beth, it’s eleven o’clock.”
“Oh.” Sleeping in on her days off was her sole luxury, but eleven was pushing it, even for her.
When he knocked again, she jumped back away from the door. “Cut it out!”
“Let us in!”
Since the cold was emanating in from the hallway, she closed the door and slid the chain off before opening it again. Kevin walked in, followed by his parents, and she closed it again. Then all she could do was watch as they emptied the contents of several bags from the local home-improvement store onto the card table she pretended was a dining room set.
“Okay,” Leo said in that loud voice of his. “We got the lead test, the mold test, the radon test.”
“Smoke and carbon-monoxide detectors,” Kevin added, stacking up a pile of small square boxes.
“How are you feeling?” Mary Kowalski asked her.
A little lost, since she had no idea what was going on. “Fine, thank you. How are you?”
“I’m so excited,” she said, and then she threw her arms around Beth. “Another grandchild!”
“You told her?” Beth accused Kevin over his mother’s shoulder. “It’s bad luck to tell too soon!”
He shrugged. “Trust me, it’s worse luck to keep secrets like that from my mother.”
“There’s no GFI outlet in the kitchen?” Leo was making himself at home, looking around. “Is that even legal? Holy crap, you don’t have a couch! Who doesn’t have a couch?”
“Kevin, can I talk to you for minute?” When he looked around, as if looking for a private spot, she sighed.
“One room and a bath?” he asked.
“If you say the whole word bathroom, it’s technically two rooms. We can talk in the hall.”
“What are you doing?” she asked when they were chilly, but alone.
“An old building like this has all kinds of potential problems. We just want to make sure it’s safe for the baby.”
“You don’t think I can keep the baby safe?”
He raised an eyebrow at her tone. “Of course I do. But this kinda stuff—testing and whatnot—that’s guy stuff.”
“Guy stuff.”
“Yeah.”
“And what am I supposed to be doing? Knitting him a blanket?”
“Him? You think it’s a boy?”
She sighed. “You totally missed the point.”
“Okay, look. Your place is—”
“Mine,” she interrupted. It wasn’t much. Nobody knew that more than she did, but it was hers and she’d be damned if the Kowalskis were going to just bulldoze right over her.
His crestfallen expression made her feel guilty. “Sorry. Maybe I’m overstepping. If you say I am, I must be. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing. I mean, don’t I get to do anything before the baby’s actually born?”
That was so sweet she melted a little on the inside. “This is new to me, too, Kevin, but—”
“You can’t stay here.”
“What?” Did he mean while they were doing the tests? “Where am I supposed to go?”
“The apartment across from mine. Holy shit, it’s cold in this hallway.”
“Back up, Kevin. I just woke up and your father’s yelling at me because I don’t have a couch and—”
“Why don’t you have a couch?”
She sighed. “Because I could only bring things I could get up two flights of stairs by myself.”
“Nobody helped you move?”
“No.”
“That’s why you can’t stay here.”
“Because I don’t have a couch?”
“No, because you’re alone with nobody else to help you out. I think I can see my breath, you know.”