8
“Mars!” Kym scolded. “What’s the matter with you? Is something wrong?”
I glanced at her, shaking away wayward, gloomy, and downright depressing thoughts.
Kym sat across the table, studying me. “Did you spike your hot cider while I wasn’t looking?”
“No.”
“Do you need me to?”
“No, I’m fine. Sorry. I just have so many things going on that I’m a little overwhelmed.”
“Can I help?”
“Yes, you can help by taking my mind off everything that isn’t baby-related.”
“That’s easy to do.” She lifted a box filled with catalogs. “Shall we get started?”
It looked like an all-day project. “Yes, please.”
She set the box onto the table and then disappeared into her bedroom down the hall. Two minutes later, she returned, wheeling a whiteboard down the hallway. “It’s my idea board.”
“Wow.” Both side
