She stumbled into the office the next morning at seven forty-five. Hopefully, Vivian wouldn’t show up today. If there was ever a time to take a break and regroup…
But she called Jules at eight thirty and said, “I’ll be there in an hour. Have you scheduled those appointments?”
“I got your doctor to fit you in at four this afternoon, and your attorney will see you tomorrow at ten.”
“Fine.” Vivian ended the call.
Jules exhaled a heavy breath. It was going to be a long day.
At nine, she hurried to the Koening cafeteria in search of Vivian’s breakfast. Normally Vivian got her breakfast from fancy local cafes with overpriced scrambled egg whites and turkey bacon, but she’d been calling for that less and less. Now Jules would lay odds it was morning sickness. Other options had to be sought.
She looked over the breakfast options. Vivian was anti-simple-carbs, so no toast. Fruit ought to go down pretty easily, so Jules bought a banana, a couple of nice-looking plums, and a pear.
What else was okay? A quick search on her phone taught Jules that pregnant women weren’t supposed to drink more than two cups of coffee a day. There was no way she was going to tell Vivian that. She sighed and filled a to-go cup.
She rushed back to the office and placed the whole lot on Vivian’s desk just as the woman herself was walking through the door. She was already talking a mile a minute on her cell phone.
“No, I’ve told him I’m not going to budge. Well, you’ll just have to arrange it. It’s your job to—” She stopped when she saw the plate of fruit.
Jules held her breath.
Vivian continued, almost without missing a beat. “Call me when you’ve resolved this. Which will hopefully be before ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”
Oh. The attorney. Jules didn’t envy him having Vivian as a client.
“Goodbye.” She ended the call and in the same breath said, “Julia.”
Jules straightened her back. Oh boy, now what?
Vivian raised her coffee cup. “Is this a regular coffee?” she demanded.
Jules blinked. “Yes,” she said. “I mean, it’s your usual—”
“Decaf,” Vivian snapped, scowling at Jules and giving her the worst ever how-could-you-be-so-stupid look.
Jules’s jaw dropped. So Vivian had done some reading too. That was fast. She looked around to make sure they were alone, lowered her voice, and said, “I looked it up, and you can have two cups of regular a day, if you want.”
Vivian looked at her.
Jules swallowed. “Is the fruit okay, or do you want something else?”
Vivian glanced at the plate again. “It’ll do.” At that moment, her stomach growled. Her cheeks reddened.
Jules quickly turned before Vivian could see her smirk and raced back to the cafeteria. When she returned with a decaf coffee, the banana, one of the plums, and half the pear were gone.
At three o’clock, Vivian announced to the nearest underling, “I’ll be out for the rest of the afternoon. Julia, come with me.”
Jules couldn’t stop herself and shared a surprised look with the underling, who she was pretty sure came from editorial. Then she shook herself, called for Ben, and packed up.
Once inside the car, Jules expected Vivian to give her some kind of errand—like, go to Alaïa after Ben dropped Vivian off or something. But she only said, “To Dr. Latchley’s office. Julia, I hope you brought something to take notes.”
Jules stared before she managed, “Yes. Sure.” Then she fumbled in her bag for her tablet.
“You won’t need that until we get there,” Vivian pointed out acidly and turned to gaze out the window.
“Right.” Jules snapped her bag shut, blushing. Vivian wanted her to sit in on her doctor’s visit and take notes. She could do that. No matter how incredibly weird it seemed.
“So,” Vivian said without turning to look at her, “you ‘looked it up.’”
“Um. Yes. Just stuff about, uh, diet. Maybe I should get a book?”
“Maybe you should.”
Jules gulped.
* * *
Especially for a GP, Sandra Latchley had a very nice office—the kind that bespoke rich patients. As Jules had thought, Vivian was there chiefly to have her suspicions confirmed and get a referral.
Jules was not actually expected to follow Vivian into an examination room, so she lingered in the waiting room. Thank goodness. The thought of Vivian Carlisle in one of those open-backed gowns was actually embarrassing. In the meantime, she fidgeted.
About half an hour later, a nurse came down the hall. “Julia?” she called. “This way, please.”
A fully dressed Vivian was sitting in her doctor’s office in a chair across the desk.
Dr. Latchley had various papers and charts in front of her. She smiled in welcome. Her brown eyes were warm and kind, and Jules hoped against hope that she’d had a soothing effect on Vivian.
“Have a seat,” she said.
Jules managed a smile of her own as she lowered herself into a hard leather chair. She’d had her tablet at the ready ever since they’d arrived at the clinic just so she could be available at a moment’s notice.
“All right,” Dr. Latchley said. “Vivian told me she doesn’t mind you hearing whatever I have to say, so now that you’re here, shall we begin?”
“Please,” Vivian said. “I’m on a tight schedule.”
“Well, so am I,” Dr. Latchley said calmly. “So let’s get down to it. Vivian, you are indeed pregnant. Your test showed the presence of a hormone that only appears when—”
“Yes, yes.” Vivian’s face remained neutral at Dr. Latchley’s confirmation.
Dr. Latchley seemed unwilling to be rushed. “The pregnancy is quite recent. When was your last period?”
“It was supposed to be almost a week ago.”
“And you got a pregnancy test already? That timespan isn’t normally enough to be a cause for alarm.”
“It is for me,” Vivian said flatly.
Jules held back a smile. Of course Vivian would be as regular as clockwork. Her hormones probably lived in as much terror of her as the Du Jour staff.
“Besides,” Vivian said, “just a couple of weeks before, Robert and I—well.”
That answered that question. Vivian and Robert had had sex while they were in the divorce process. Jules’s head spun. Was it a last-ditch effort to save their marriage, one last hurrah, what? Either way, it sure had come with enormous consequences.
“Have you been undergoing fertility treatments?” Dr. Latchley asked.
“No!” Vivian snapped, losing her cool for a fraction of a second. “This was an acci—unintentional.”
“The odds of a woman your age getting pregnant without assistance are extremely low.”
“I thought so too,” Vivian muttered. “I didn’t have any ‘assistance.’ What’s next?”
“Next, I refer you to an obstetrician. I recommend Dr. Viswanathan. She’s well-regarded. I can get you in the door, but you’ll need to make all your appointments well in advance”—she gave Vivian a knowing look—“and keep them.”
Vivian glared.
“What’s her first name, please?” Jules asked, ready to write it down.
Dr. Latchley smiled again and gave her a business card, which Jules carefully filed in her bag.
“And how’s that going to work?” Jules continued. “You’ll make the initial call, or—”
“I’ll tell her to expect you. She knows me. Call her office tomorrow morning, and you should be able to set something up.”
“Thanks.” Jules scribbled away. “Any receptionist in particular I should talk to?”
“They’re all very nice, but if you get ahold of Mary, tell her I want to know how her dogs are doing these days.”
“Dogs…are…doing. Mary. Okay.” She looked up from her notes to see Dr. Latchley grinning at her and Vivian looking at her like she was from another planet. Jules winced.
“In the meantime”—Dr. Latchley turned back to Vivian—“if you plan on continuing this pregnancy, I’ve got a basic care sheet.” She pulled a pale pink sheet of paper from a folder. “This lists dietary and exercise recommendations as well as typical symptoms you should expect. Let me just take this time to ask—what questions or concerns do you have?”
Vivian looked at Jules.
Jules immediately readied to stand up. Vivian probably didn’t want to talk about her pregnancy-related fears in front of Jules, if she wanted to talk about them at all. Especially the possibility that Vivian might not want to continue her pregnancy.
“Julia, what concerns do I have?” Vivian asked.
Or maybe that was not, in fact, an issue. “Diet stuff?” Jules ventured. She looked down at the sheet Dr. Latchley had given her. It was the same information she’d found online.
“Yes,” Vivian said to Dr. Latchley. “Diet.”
“Oh-kay.” Dr. Latchley elongated the word as if making room for incredulity. No wonder; most pregnant people didn’t delegate their worries to their personal assistants. “You’ll want to pay careful attention to that. Geriatric pregnancies are much more likely to result in gestational diabetes, along with other complications.”
Geriatric pregnancies? Jules bit her bottom lip and did her best to look at Vivian from the corner of her eye without turning her head. From what she could see, her face remained composed, but the grip on her handbag was white-knuckled.
“How have you been eating?” Dr. Latchley asked.
“Quite normally,” said Vivian, the great big fibber.
Before she could stop herself, Jules gave Vivian a look of outrage, which Dr. Latchley saw before Jules could hide it.
Fortunately, Vivian did not appear to notice.
“And what’s ‘normal’? What did you have for lunch today?” Dr. Latchley asked.
“Beef tartare,” Vivian replied. “From BABS.”
Dr. Latchley clearly didn’t care where the beef tartare came from. “No. Protein’s good but red meat isn’t the greatest, and you definitely shouldn’t eat anything undercooked. What about breakfast?”
Vivian shot Jules a quick look. “Fruit.”
“Bananas and pears and stuff,” Jules added. “And plums.”
“All right,” Dr. Latchley said. “But you need more variety. I suggest melons too. Eggs are great—”
“No eggs.” Vivian’s cheeks went a little green.
“—and dairy,” Dr. Latchley finished. “Plenty of calcium. Caloric requirements are on the sheet, although Dr. Viswanathan will be able to go into more detail with you. You can also consult a nutritionist or a personal trainer, if you have concerns about exercise.”
Vivian already had a nutritionist and a trainer. Jules made a note to call them and set up appointments as soon as possible.
“And above all else,” Dr. Latchley added, sounding stern for the first time, “get adequate rest. I know you’re a busy woman, but you have to be prepared to take it easier than you normally would.” She tilted her head at Jules. “She’s young and chipper. Put her to use. Get her to do things for you.”
Jules’s eyes widened.
All Vivian said was “I’ll consider it.” Her lips twitched.
“Do you have any other questions?” Dr. Latchley asked.
“Can she have regular coffee?” Jules blurted out before she could stop herself. “I read two cups a day were okay.” She probably shouldn’t try to prove Vivian wrong in front of her doctor, but I’ll consider it? Seriously? After Jules had been throwing her back out for a year in this job?
Vivian snapped a death glare at her. She found herself looking right back.
“Two cups are okay,” Dr. Latchley said absently, looking down at her paperwork.
“Oh good.” Jules never broke eye contact with Vivian, whose own eyes narrowed farther. “I thought so.”
“But try to limit your caffeine intake, Vivian,” Dr. Latchley added.
“Thank you,” Vivian said sweetly and stood up. “We really must be getting back.”
“Of course.” Dr. Latchley stood up too and extended her hand to Vivian, who took it gingerly before letting go again. “Please call me if there are any problems or if you have further questions. Oh—and congratulations.”
Vivian didn’t even manage a thin smile this time. Instead, she gave a curt nod and left without another word.
Jules turned to the doctor. “So,” she said urgently, “this sheet is all the stuff I should know? Should I look out for anything else?”
Dr. Latchley chuckled. “Your first child too, I take it?”
Before Jules had time to sputter a response, an impatient “Julia” sounded from the hallway.
“Good luck,” Dr. Latchley mouthed as Jules hurried out the door.
I’ll need more than that, she reflected gloomily as she caught up with a frowning Vivian.
“I don’t recall the doctor asking you for your input, Julia.” Her tone had gone cold.
Jules pressed her lips together. She better not get fired over two cups of coffee. “I was asking about something I’ll need to know to do my job.”
“I’ve had a lot of people doing your job. None of them have dared…”
Vivian trailed off as if she couldn’t remember what previous assistants hadn’t dared to do. Breathe without permission, probably.
But they hadn’t taken notes on Vivian’s pregnancy either, and if this was now Jules’s job, then she shouldn’t be berated for doing it right. She looked straight into Vivian’s eyes, silently telling her so.
Without another word, Vivian turned on her heel and headed outside to the car.
Jules could have sworn she growled.
They approached the car, where Ben held open a rear door. Just out of his hearing, Vivian muttered, “You’ll make the obstetrician appointment.”
“Of course.”
Vivian slid inside the car, and Jules hurried around to her own door, knowing that Vivian hated even the five-second delay between bullet-rapid instructions.
“Ben, take me home and then return Julia to Du Jour. Julia, confirm that we have Praeger, Lawson & Day tomorrow at ten,” Vivian said as soon as Jules slid into the seat next to her.
“I’ve called them. You should be good to go.”
“I should be?”
Jules blinked and then made the connection. Well, asking about coffee hadn’t been enough to boot her out of this job after all.
“We should be,” she said, strangely breathless.
“Arrive at their offices at nine thirty,” Vivian said. “Don’t bother stopping by Du Jour first. And don’t be late.”
“Right.” She was already anticipating sleeping in.
“Then get in touch with my personal trainer and arrange for her to come to my home this weekend. Early Saturday morning, and I mean early. And tomorrow afternoon, go to Givenchy with Lucia. Bring me back a full report. Hers aren’t up to scratch these days.”
“Got it.” Jules’s thumbs flew over her phone screen.
“Good.” Vivian looked out the window, her hands folded in her lap. She didn’t look appreciably calmer after her doctor’s visit—maybe she’d been hoping she was wrong, that she wasn’t pregnant.
Jules looked out her own window, remembered her own scare, and decided for the fiftieth time that she wouldn’t trade places with Vivian for all the Fendi bags in the world.
When they arrived at Vivian’s home, Jules made to get out of the car as she had the last time. Vivian waved her off and unbuckled her seat belt. Before she got out, she gave Jules an intent, penetrating look.
Against her will, Jules shivered.
“Be discreet,” was all Vivian said. Then she was gone.
“What’s going on?” Ben asked in the car as he pulled away from the curb.
Telling him everything wouldn’t be a good start to discretion. “Things,” she said weakly. In the rearview mirror, she caught him rolling his eyes. “Look, you heard what she said. It’s my job if I don’t keep my mouth shut.” And any job Jules might contemplate in the future.
“Right,” he sighed. “Guess I’ll find out eventually.”
Everybody would soon enough. Unless Vivian decided to end the pregnancy. Jules supposed Vivian would talk to Robert about that first, though. After talking to her attorney. God, telling her attorney about her pregnancy before telling the baby’s father? What a wild world to live in. Jules groaned in exasperation.
“You okay back there?” Ben asked, sounding alarmed.
“Fine,” she mumbled. “It’s just Vivian.”
“I hear you.”
Their gazes met in the mirror again, and against her will, Jules laughed with him.