The yellow paint on the nursery door was still tacky when Eleanor reached out and scraped her thumbnail across the frame. A thin curl of latex skin coiled under her nail, leaving a grey scar on the fresh pine.
“It is very bright,” Eleanor said, wiping her thumb on her lace handkerchief. “Almost aggressive for a newborn.”
“The tin says summer wheat,” I said.
I sat at the kitchen table and rubbed my left wrist, my thumb tracing the small joint that always ached when I was tired. Eleanor remained standing by the sink, her gaze drifting from the yellow hallway to the linoleum floor of my kitchen.
“Your mother mentioned you chose the colors yourself,” she said.
“Ruth helped with the stencils,” I said.
Eleanor took two steps toward the table, her leather heels clicking against the grey tiles. She reached into her handbag and withdrew a small, silver-wrapped box, sliding it across the laminate countertop. It stopped just short of my sugar bowl.
“A little early,” Eleanor said, her voice dropping into that quiet, sharp register she used when she wanted to sound polite. “But given the timing, we should settle things.”
“We are not taking gifts until after the delivery,” I said, pushing the box back toward her with one finger.
Eleanor smoothed the second button of her linen coat. “Of course. One must be sure of the dates first.”
“The doctor is very clear about the date,” I said.
“Doctors work with averages, Clara,” she said. “A mother knows the exact week of conception. Don’t you think?”
“September tenth,” I said, keeping my voice even.
“Mark was always so precise with his drawings at the firm,” she said, looking down at the silver box. “He hates when the measurements are off.”
“We are ready for him,” I said.
She left the silver box on the table. When she stepped out onto the porch, the screen door did not slam, but the latch clicked into place with a dry, hollow sound that lingered in the quiet kitchen.
My mother, Ruth, arrived at four, her purse clutched against her stomach like a shield. She smelled of the peppermint lozenges she kept in her glove box to cover her cigarette smoke.
