“The baby would have every privilege in the world,” Gayle said. “Private schools. Lessons of all kinds. Amazing trips around the world. You name it.”
Aria glanced around at the other patrons in the café, amazed no one had overheard what had just transpired. Wasn’t this illegal? Then Gayle dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the table and stood. “Think about it, Heather. I’ll call you in a few days, or you call me.” She passed Emily a business card. A second later, she was gliding out of the café, waving good-bye to the balding owner in suspenders behind the counter as though she hadn’t just offered to buy a stranger’s baby.
As soon as Gayle disappeared down the sidewalk, Aria let out a breath. “Do you want to call the police, or shall I?”
Emily looked surprised. “What?”
Aria stared at her. “Are you high? She just offered you money for your baby.”
Emily picked at the pancakes. “I feel terrible for her. It’s obvious she really wants a baby. She seems so sad.”
“You bought that sob story?” Aria shook her head. Emily always was the most sensitive of the group, the one who saved baby birds when the mother pushed them out of the nest too early, or who tried to stop Ali when she teased someone too nastily. “Em, normal people don’t walk into cafés and offer to buy teenagers’ unborn children. Even people who are desperate to have kids. There’s something seriously wrong with her.”
But Emily was staring wistfully at her belly, appearing not to hear a word of what Aria said. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have everything you wanted in the world? Exotic trips? Fantastic summer camps? The baby’s life would be incredible.”
“Money isn’t everything, you know,” Aria pointed out. “Look at Spencer. She had every privilege in the world, and her family’s a mess. Can you honestly tell me that woman would be a caring, nurturing mother?”
“It’s possible,” Emily said, an empathetic look on her face. “We don’t even know her.”
“Exactly!” Aria pounded her fork on the table for emphasis. “I loved the sound of the first family you chose, Em. You got to know them. You picked them for a reason.”
“But they’re both teachers,” Emily protested. “Neither of them make that much money.”
“Since when do you care about that?”
“Since I got pregnant!” Emily’s cheeks flushed. She said it so loudly a couple of patrons looked up, startled, then sheepishly went back to their meals.
Aria talked on and on, listing reason after reason why Emily shouldn’t pay any attention to Gayle, but Emily still had that torn, faraway look on her face. It wasn’t surprising when Emily told her a few days later that she’d accepted Gayle’s offer. It also wasn’t that surprising that, only a few weeks later, Emily called Aria back in a panic, saying she’d changed her mind and that Aria had to help her get out of the Gayle mess.
“Your risotto has gone gelatinous!”
Madame Richeau was standing over Aria, peering into her pot with a look of abhorrence on her face. Sure enough, the rice had congealed into a thick paste. She tried to rake the wooden spoon through it, but the slop wouldn’t budge.
Madame Richeau shook her head and strode away, muttering. The whole class looked at Aria with tiny smirks on their faces. Noel stared at Aria curiously. “Are you sure everything is okay?” he asked.
Heavy pressure settled behind Aria’s eyes. She considered telling Noel about what was going on with Emily’s pregnancy . . . maybe even with A. Couples told each other everything, after all. They were supposed to trust each other, right?
But then the image of Mr. Kahn in that dress rushed to the forefront of her mind again. She straightened up and gave Noel a self-deprecating smile. “Sorry. I was thinking about what I was going to wear to Hanna’s dad’s benefit on Sunday. Do you think I should go vintage or buy something new?”
Noel studied her for a moment, looking puzzled, then shrugged and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “You’ll look fantastic in anything.”
Aria snuggled into him, her insides feeling as sludgy and unappetizing as the risotto she’d just botched. So much for the honesty pact. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flicker of white at the window. Was that . . . a flash of blond hair? But when she broke away from Noel and looked closer, the flicker had already vanished.
11
WORK IT