Gemma reached over for Cat’s glass and poured the remaining wine into her own. “No more of that for you.”

“You’re kidding.”

Gemma shook her head and smiled goofily, widely, her eyes shiny. “Two lines. Two very, very pretty blue lines.”

For the first time in her life, Cat threw her arms around her sister with complete, involuntary abandon.

To: Lyn

From: Gemma

Subject: Cat

I FIXED EVERYTHING!

The Magical Caramel Sundae

It must have been nearly a year after we lost her. I’d stopped by at a McDonald’s in between appointments. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon and the place was overflowing with school kids. I had a table next to three girls—they were maybe fourteen or fifteen. Tall, gangly, and beautiful in that schoolgirl way.

The tables were so close together, I could hear every word they were saying. One of them was obviously upset about breaking up with a boy and the other two were trying to cheer her up, all to no avail. So one girl pulled out a notepad from her schoolbag and said, “Right, let’s write down a list of everything that was wrong with him, that will make you feel better!” The miserable girl, slumped over her cheeseburger, said, “No, no, it won’t, that’s the most stupid idea I’ve ever heard.”

But the girl with the notepad was relentless. She said, “Number one, he had disgusting eczema.” The miserable girl said furiously, “He did not!” But all the girl writing could think about was how to spell eczema!

Then the other one of them went off to the counter and came back with a caramel sundae. In a very dramatic voice, she said, “This sundae has magical healing properties. Just one mouthful and you will be cured!” She tried to force the spoon into the sad one’s mouth and they all three started to laugh. The girl finally took a mouthful and the other one slapped her across the forehead like a faith healer, and said, “Be gone, sadness demon!” They just had such infectious giggles, all of sudden I surprised myself by laughing out loud.

It was the first time I had laughed, properly laughed, since she died. It felt like a turning point, realizing I could still laugh.

It’s funny. I bet those girls don’t even remember that day. But for me, it really was a magical caramel sundae.

CHAPTER 9

Dan couldn’t seem to take it in at first. He stood in their living room staring at her, the ends of his hair still damp with sweat from his squash game.

He seemed bewildered. “A baby,” he kept saying slowly. “We’re going to have a baby.”

“Yes, Dan, a baby. You know—floppy head, makes a lot noise, costs a lot of money.”

And then finally he seemed to get it and let his squash racket fall to the floor and hugged her hard around the ribs, so that her feet almost lifted off the ground.

Rob Spencer caressed his tie lovingly. “Masturbation. Interesting.”

“The message is pleasure,” responded Cat. “Self-indulgent pleasure.”

“Yes, but she’s masturbating, isn’t she? I mean what we have here is a woman in a bath, mas-tur-bat-ing.”

People began to shift uneasily in their chairs. Marianne, who was taking the minutes, threw down her pen and put her hands over her ears. “Could you please stop saying that word, Rob!”

It was the last day before Hollingdale Chocolates closed for the Christmas break, and Cat was giving a presentation on a new advertising campaign for the following year’s Valentine’s Day. A full-page ad was projected via her laptop onto a large screen at the end of the room. The ad showed a woman lying in a bath, smiling wickedly, her eyes closed. One languid hand was allowing an empty Hollingdale Chocolate wrapper to flutter to the floor. The other hand wasn’t visible. The headline read, Seduce someone special this Valentine’s Day.

Cat was pleased with the campaign. She’d got the idea after Gemma told her how decadent she felt eating Hollingdale Chocolates in the Penthursts’ bath. Some guy at the agency contributed the “self-pleasure” element. (What a lovely idea! said Gemma when she heard, looking rather inspired.)

“The focus groups loved it,” said Cat.

“Oh yes, and they’re never wrong, are they? Ha!” Rob looked jovially around the meeting room. He lowered his voice. “Two little words: Hazelnut Heaven.”

“Arrggh!” People clutched their chests as if they’d been shot. Others buried their heads in their hands. Sidelong glances were shot down the end of the table where the CEO of Hollingdale Chocolates, Graham Hollingdale, chewed a pen lid and looked bored out of his mind.

Hazelnut Heaven had been last year’s new-product disaster. When it happened, the entire company ducked wildly for cover, hurling blame like hand grenades over their office cubicle walls. They passed the buck so furiously and successfully that it stopped nowhere. Twelve months later, recalling the experience created a warm glow of camaraderie.

Cat gave the obligatory rueful chuckle. “You’re right, Rob. There are no guarantees. But I do think we’ve got all the right elements for our target audience.”

“Love your work, Cat!” said Rob. He leaned forward and pressed a finger to his lips. “But to be frank, I have some real concerns about this one.”

Aha. It had been a few weeks since she’d pointed out his error in the Operations Meeting. Rob had been biding his time, cradling his wounded ego, waiting to pounce. If this had happened yesterday, her adrenaline would have been pumping. Today, it all seemed like an amusingly childish game. It was only a job—a means of making money. And she was having a baby. At the thought of the baby magically curled in her womb, Cat felt an exquisite burst of joy.