My lips turn up at the corners ever so slightly as I ask, “Even if I want to adopt your baby?”

  Margie stares at me in disbelief. “Do you … will you … I mean, are you going to?”

  “My answer is yes,” I tell Margie. A feeling of pure warmth and light fills me, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’ve made the right decision.

  Margie throws her covers off and launches herself across the room at me. She’s practically sitting on me while she hugs me and shouts, “You won’t be sorry, I promise! You are going to love her and be a fantastic family for her!”

  “We’re going to be a fantastic family,” I tell her. “Because you will very much be a part of our baby’s life.”

  “Oh, Allie, thank you so much!” Margie is still hanging on to me for dear life.

  “Even though I want you to talk to your parents and Jordan, what do you say we tell my mom and dad at dinner tonight?”

  “I would love that!” She jumps to her feet and starts bouncing like she’s on a trampoline. “Do you think they’ll be happy?”

  She’s so excited that I hate to burst her bubble, but she should know what we’re getting into. “I’m not sure,” I tell her. “My parents expect things to come in a certain order. You know, marriage first and then babies. The thing is, I don’t know if I want to get married again. I don’t trust like I once did.”

  “I don’t know if I want to get married, either,” Margie says.

  “Honey, you’re only eighteen. Why would you say that?”

  Rolling her eyes toward the ceiling, she answers, “Maybe because the first boy who told me he loved me and wanted to be with me forever dumped me as soon as he found out I was pregnant.” Aaah. There is that.

  “When do you want to let Jordan know what you’ve decided?” I ask her.

  “I’d just as soon never tell him, but I know I have to. I don’t want him to cause any trouble.” She adds, “I did an internet search and found out that in private adoption, which is what they call what we’re doing, I can’t sign the final paperwork until almost a week after the baby is born.”

  “That makes sense,” I tell her. My heart feels like it just plummeted into the depths of my stomach. “They want to make sure you’re comfortable with your decision.”

  Margie nods her head. “I get it. I just don’t want you to worry. I’m going to apply to Northwestern right away, along with my backup schools. I’ll give birth in July and by August I’m going to be moving somewhere else to go to school.”

  I have so many questions. The biggest being, will her parents take her back and continue to help her with college if she puts the baby up for adoption? Will Jordan and his family agree? And finally, how will my parents take the news?

  Looking at the clock on the wall, I tell Margie, “Sunday dinner at my house starts at one. We should probably get up and have breakfast now so we’re hungry again by then. Let’s go down to Rosemary’s. I could use a muffin and hot chocolate.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we’re dressed and standing at the bakery counter. Teddy is working again. “You sure are here a lot,” I tell him.

  “I’m giving Faith as much of a break as I can before I leave for LA. We’re actually looking for part time help to help fill the schedule.”

  “Looks like I might not have left at a good time after all,” I tell him, feeling mildly guilty.

  “You did the best thing for you and that makes us all happy. Don’t worry,” he says, “we’ll find a high school student or something.”

  Margie nudges my side, so I turn to see what she wants. “I’m a high school student,” she announces. “I could use a part-time job.”

  “Are you sure you won’t be too tired?” I ask.

  “It’s supposed to get a lot better in the second trimester. And if I’m going to go to college then I could use all the money I can get.”

  Teddy offers, “Faith could practically run marathons in her second trimester. I’ve never seen her with so much energy.”

  Margie stands up straighter, and she holds her head high. “Can I apply for the job?” she asks.

  Instead of answering her, Teddy looks at me. “Will you vouch for her, Allie?”

  “You bet I will,” I say enthusiastically.

  He winks at Margie and tells her, “You don’t need to apply. The job is yours. After all, we need to take care of our own, don’t we?” Margie’s and my looks of confusion cause him to add, “Actors need to help fellow actors.” Margie looks happier than I’ve ever seen her.

  Meanwhile, I tell Teddy, “Speaking of acting, Margie is going to go ahead and apply to Northwestern for the fall semester. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to write her a recommendation letter?”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Margie interrupts. “I mean, a job is enough. I don’t want to be any trouble.”

  “What trouble?” Teddy asks. “I’d be happy to write you a recommendation, Margie. After all, my name means something at Northwestern.” I don’t know who he’s kidding. His name means something all over this planet.

  Once Margie and I have our food and drinks, we sit down at a table by the window. “Did that really just happen?” she asks me. She looks completely shell-shocked.

  “What did I tell you? All you have to do is imagine the future you want and somehow that programs the universe to provide.” She shakes her head in wonder, so I tell her, “Look how it’s worked out for me. All I had to do was say that I was going to investigate adoption and I suddenly have an offer to be someone’s mom.” I still can’t believe my luck.

  Reaching across the table, Margie takes my hands in hers. “You’re going to be the best mom, Allie. I can’t wait to see you in action.”

  “I can’t wait to see you on the silver screen,” I tell her.

  I also can’t help but wonder if I should let myself see a future with Noah. I mean, if the universe is providing, I have a list.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  NOAH

  I pack an overnight bag and put it into my car before stopping at the gas station to fill my tank. Tom called back an hour after we spoke and said he had a new offer for me, but he wasn’t permitted to give it over the phone. He said the principal wanted to meet with me tomorrow morning and would lay it out for me then.

  Once I’m on the road, I call Allie.

  “Hello?” Is it me or does she sound particularly happy today?

  “Allie, it’s me, Noah. I need a favor.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I have to take a personal day tomorrow and I need you to cover both morning and afternoon practices. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I promise to make it worth your while.” I’m not sure how I’ll do that if I move back to Chicago, but first things first. I need to see what the Banks offer is.

  “I can do that,” she says. “Are you okay? You’re not sick or anything, are you?”

  “I’m good. I just have to do a few things.” I really don’t want to tell her what I’m up to until I know for sure that I’m leaving.

  “That sounds mysterious. Are you sure you won’t tell me what’s up?”

  “I’ll tell you, just not until Tuesday, okay?”

  That seems to console her enough because she says, “It’s a deal. I also have something exciting to tell you.”

  “What?” I know it’s not fair to ask her news when I’m not willing to share mine yet, but that doesn’t mean I want to wait.

  “Tuesday,” she tells me. “Let’s have dinner after practice.”

  “Okay,” I finally agree, although I really do hate waiting.

  “I’m at my parents’,” Allie says, “so, I need to go. See you Tuesday.”

  After she hangs up, I continue to drive through Elk Lake in a state of supreme agitation. I have no idea if it’s worth my time to drive all the way to Chicago to hear the new offer. I’m not even sure I should be going at all.

  I’m finally on the verge of getting what I know I want, but I can’t quite pinpoint why I’m not that excited. Life has been awfully strange lately.

  Time passes quickly and the closer I get to the city, the more I start to feel supercharged at the thought of my meeting tomorrow. By the time I’m driving through downtown, I realize that I forgot to tell Lorelai I would be spending the night at my apartment tonight.

  I call, and her voicemail picks up. “Hey, Chirp, it’s me. I’m in town and I need to stay the night. I’ll take the couch, so I don’t put you out.”

  I continue to my apartment building and park in visitor parking. Leaving my duffel bag in the car, I get out and stretch my legs. Then I walk toward the exit and onto the street. There’s no getting around it, I love Chicago. I love the buildings, the people, the overall energy. Everything about this city feels like my home.

  My first stop is my neighborhood coffee shop where I get my morning coffee. Even though it’s afternoon, I plan on recreating my entire Sunday routine. As I walk into The Brim, I feel raw expectations and enthusiasm to welcome back pumpkin spice season with them. I’ve been in Elk Lake since it officially started at the beginning of this month, so this will be my first cup in the Windy City.

  But suddenly, instead of feeling the joy I’ve always felt coming in here, I’m hit with a wave of irritation. Has it always been this busy? Thinking back, I remember that I’ve waited up to thirty minutes for my order on past Sundays. I’ve never waited for more than five minutes at Rosemary’s.

  When I finally get to the front of the line, the familiar barista asks, “What do you want?” She sounds so aggressive, I have to wonder if that’s new or has she always sounded like this?

  Trying for a friendly approach, I ask, “Isn’t it crazy that it’s fall already?”

  If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under. “Is it going to be winter before you order or can you move it along?” she wants to know.

  She clearly isn’t in a friendly state of mind. Feeling a tad affronted, I tell her, “I’ll have the pumpkin spice caramel latte.”

  “Is that all?” Her hands are on her hips in a belligerent fashion.

  “What kind of muffins do you have today?” I ask nervously.

  “Dude!” she yells and points at the board behind her.

  I’m suddenly afraid she’s going to jump over the counter and choke the life out of me. “I’ll have the pumpkin praline,” I tell her.

  “We just ran out of that one. The guy before you got the last one.”

  “Oh, okay. Then I’ll have the caramel apple, heated please.”

  That’s clearly the last straw for her. “I recognize you, so I know you know that we don’t heat them on Sunday.”

  I forgot about that. Shoot. Well, no worries so long as I get out of here with my life—which by the look on the barista’s face is not a guarantee. I pay quickly and hurry to the side of the room to wait for my number to be called.

  I used to love this part of my Sunday, but I’ve got to confess I’m not overly pleased right now. I wind up waiting for a full ten minutes before my number is called. I go to the counter and pick it up before sprinting out of there.

  Once I’m back onto the street, instead of eating my food on the run, like I usually do, I find a park bench under a tree and sit down. I plant myself there for a full thirty minutes while I watch the hustle and bustle of Sunday foot traffic pass by. How did I forget everything was so busy here? I’ve hardly been gone longer than a month.

  After I’m done, I throw my garbage into a nearby can and try to figure out what to do next. If I were still living here, I’d grab a sandwich to put in the fridge for my lunch, then maybe call some guys to hang out. But as I’m not going to be here for long, I kind of want to spend the day on my own.

  I head back in the direction of my apartment building before retrieving my duffel from the car. Then I head up to my unit. I knock when I get there so I don’t surprise my sister. I wait for three minutes but when she doesn’t answer, I let myself in.

  I look around the place and stare with my mouth wide open. I have never seen my apartment so clean. It almost doesn’t even look familiar to me. That’s when I realize Lorelai has gone ahead and started redecorating without telling me what she was up to.

  The walls in the living room are no longer white, they’re some kind of silvery sage color that I imagine would look great on a mermaid tail. Although, it’s not as whimsical as it is refined. It’s actually very nice.

  Walking around, I notice that she’s covered my dinged up leather sofa with a soft cream-colored corduroy cover. I like it. The throw pillows are a little on the feminine side, but I didn’t even have throw pillows before, so I suppose that’s an upgrade, too.

  Sitting down on the couch, I see that I also have curtains, which is not something I’d ever even thought of getting before. My old wooden coffee table has been replaced by a sleek glass one that’s covered with thick coffee table books. There’s one on the architecture of Chicago, another on Monet, and one more on the history of the little black dress. Yeah, this isn’t my apartment anymore. If I come back to the city, I’m probably going to have to move. Either that or get my sister to wave her magic wand until everything makes sense again.

  Kicking my shoes off, I lie back on the couch and cover myself up with the softest blanket in the world—also not mine—then I close my eyes and take a nap. My last conscious thought is, I wonder what Allie’s doing right now?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  ALLIE

  Margie and I are sitting across the dining room table from my parents. Conversation flows smoothly enough as we pass around platters of food that I’m hopeful it’s a good omen and my news about adopting won’t freak them out too badly.

  Handing the rotisserie chicken to Margie, I tell her, “Make sure you take a lot. You need the protein.”

  Once our plates are full, the atmosphere fills with the sound of silverware clattering against plates. I’ve completely lost my appetite, but I cut stuff up and push it around my plate, so I at least look like I’m eating.

  I try to screw up my courage by reminding myself that I’ve stood up to my mom in the past. Even though it didn’t always go well, I always maintained my stance. The only time she won was when she forced me to register for white china for my wedding instead of the floral pattern I was drawn to. Her reasoning was that white could be used all year and floral would be limiting. It wasn’t the worst decision, but still, I’ve always regretted not going with my heart.

  My mom finally breaks the silence and asks Margie, “Have you thought more about what you’re going to do with your pregnancy?”

  “I sure have.” Margie sounds extremely happy.

  My mom arches her left eyebrow until it forms something of a question mark. “Are you willing to share the news?”

  Margie glances at me for permission, so I nod. I suppose this is as good a time as any to start the conversation. “I’m going to put her up for adoption,” Margie announces.

  “Really?” My mom’s tone makes it hard to pinpoint if she thinks this is a good idea or not.

  Joining the conversation, I explain, “Margie wants an open adoption so that she will be able to have contact with her child as it grows up.”

  “Oh.” Again, my mother doesn’t offer enough of an inflection to convey her true feelings. But if I had to guess, I don’t think she likes the idea.

  My dad, however, asks, “Won’t that be hard on you?”

  “No harder than not knowing how my baby was doing,” she tells him.

  “What if the adoptive parents don’t want an open adoption?” my mom wants to know.

  “They’ll have to agree to that up front,” Margie says. “If they don’t, then they aren’t the parents I’ll choose.”

  I have a lump of chicken lodged in my throat that might just end me if I don’t get it down. Picking up my water glass, I take a big gulp until the danger has passed. Then I take a deep breath before blurting out, “Margie has actually already chosen who will get to adopt her baby.”

  My mom’s fork falls and crashes loudly onto her plate. “How is it possible to have found someone so soon?”

  “A lot of people want to adopt,” I tell my mom.

  “The Wilsons adopted all of their children,” my dad interjects, referencing his old partner at his law firm.

  “It took them ages.” My mom looks at Margie and shares, “They were on a waiting list for three years before they got their first.”

  “Like I said, Mom, a lot of people want to adopt.” I take another sip of water and try to gauge if this really is the best moment to share my news.

  Before I can decide, my dad says, “It was tough on them with Charlie though. They didn’t know he was a fetal alcohol baby until all the developmental trouble started.” He tops that off with, “I’d be afraid to adopt. You never know whose baby you’d get and what kind of family health history they might have.”

  “That’s why I’ve decided to pick someone that I know. This way, they’ll know me and know what they’re getting,” Margie tells him.

  “You’ve found someone you know who will agree to this arrangement?” My mother sounds both horrified and curious at the same time. This might not be a surprise, but my mom slows down and gawps at every car accident she passes. That’s kind of how it feels right now.

  “I have found someone,” Margie tells them. Then she looks at me to see if I want to take over.

  I don’t really have much choice at this point, so I announce, “I’m going to adopt Margie’s baby.”

  I might as well have just confessed to being a serial killer, given the looks on both of my parents’ faces. My dad’s mouth opens and closes repeatedly until it simply closes. My mom’s eyebrows knit together so tightly she could hold a penny in the slit that forms between them.

  I’m about to explain everything in more detail, but my mom stands up, bursts into tears and then runs from the room. While I didn’t necessarily expect her to take the news well, I didn’t think she would make such a scene.

  My dad pushes away from the table. “I should go check on your mother.”