Across the top of her copy Charlotte typed: To discuss changes, call my cell phone. Email is unreliable. Then saving the file to a CD, handed it over to Sam to email for her from home. "Think this will work?" The this being the sneaker file transfer system.
"I hope so. Writing gives me something to do besides getting ideas of grandeur from HGTV."
Sam shook his head. "Please no more ideas. It always looks so easy on TV."
"It must be their behind the scenes crew."
"Yes it must." And after blowing his wife a kiss from the doorway, he was off to email off the payload.
The room was quiet. She never had time for herself, and didn't really know what to do with herself in all this quiet. Walking about was out of the question. With her head back on the pillow she wondered if and when they would let her out of bed. Something about the placenta moving up the uterine wall. Three kids out of the shoot and never a problem like this.
More quiet. She listened to her heart beating. Or was she being so still that she could actually feel it pulsating in her chest? She moved her foot and cold room air moved in under the sheets, cooling the hairs on her toes. Nobody should have this much free time so they can feel the hair on their toes stand at attention.
And just as she was melting into the mattress and allowing every cell in her body and willing those of the babies, to relax, her cell phone rang, nearly vibrating off the bedside table, bringing her back into this world.
She recognized the number. "Hi John"
"Hi, how are you?"
"Fine, just hanging out."
"Where, a gym... there is quite an echo."
Looking about the room, it didn't seem that big, Charlotte replied, "No," then asked, "What can I do for you?"
"How's the piece?"
"Fine, it should be in the email shortly."
"I'll be waiting for it."
"No worries, it's on its way."
(12856)
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