Two days after promising her husband she’d see the physician, Edith sat in Dr. Marc’s office and flipped through a magazine.
Yesterday she’d tried the meat-and-potatoes diet written up in Good Housekeeping. It felt strange to eat sausage and potatoes for breakfast, and stranger still to have a huge slice of pot roast with a baked potato for lunch. Win hadn’t minded the supper of pork loin and potatoes, but by eight o’clock, when she fixed a plate of beef and potatoes for the required before-bed snack, Edith had figured out why this diet worked—the dieter grew so tired of beef and potatoes by the second day that he or she simply stopped eating . . . or quit.
Edith was ready to quit and move on to something else. The magazine in the doctor’s office had no diets to offer, though it did have a dozen glossy pictures of decadent desserts: chocolate pound cake; strawberry souf-flés, and a crème brûlée that looked good enough to die for. . . .
When she heard Dr. Marc and Babette Graham coming down the hallway, she set the magazine aside. Her interest shifted into concern when she saw that Babette was as white as snow.
“Hi, Babette.”
The younger woman didn’t even look up. She nodded in a sort of daze, then pulled her coat from the hook by the door and slipped it on.
“Take your vitamins,” Dr. Marc said, his attention focused on Babette. “Remember—this is a very important time.”
“Ayuh.” Babette spoke in an absent voice.
“And come see me again in a couple of weeks.”
“Ayuh.” Wearing the bewildered look of a sleepwalker, Babette opened the front door and stepped outside.
When the door had closed, Edith jerked her thumb toward the porch. “Is she—”
“I’m going to count on your discretion,” Dr. Marc said, grinning. “I think she and Charles should make the announcement.”
“Oh, my.” Edith winced in sympathy for the young woman. Every mother welcomed children, but Babette already had Georgie, and that boy was a handful.
She nodded to the doctor. “Don’t worry. As a pastor’s wife, I’m used to zipping my lip.”
“Thanks.” His friendly expression shifted to a look of concern. “I hope you’re not having the same, um, symptoms.”
She laughed. “Oh, no. My problem is nothing a little willpower can’t fix. For the record, I didn’t want to bother you with this, but I promised Winslow.”
The doctor laughed. “Come on back, then, and let’s talk.”
As nervous as a cat, she followed him into the small examining room. She didn’t want the entire town to know she was dieting, but the doctor was a trustworthy person. He wouldn’t spill the . . . She groaned as an image of deep, rich, molasses-covered Boston baked beans rose in her mind.
“Now, then.” The doctor leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “How can I help you?”
Clearing her throat, Edith stared at her folded hands. “I’ve been thinking about taking off a few pounds. Winslow wanted me to consult you first.”
Lifting one finger to his chin, the doctor studied her. “A diet, huh? Clothes feeling a little too tight?”
She managed a tolerant smile.
“Well, I suppose most of us could afford to drop some excess weight. In the winter, we Mainers tend to be like the animals—we overeat, put on extra padding, then go through a spring shed.” He grinned at her. “Don’t worry, you won’t be the only islander watching what they eat.”
He picked up a folder and shuffled through the papers inside. “We did blood work a few months ago, cholesterol’s fine . . . triglycerides are only slightly elevated.” He glanced up, smiling. “I see no reason why you can’t limit your intake of food for a few weeks—as long as you don’t get carried away and go for the skin-and-bones look.”
Edith had no intention of turning herself into Calista Flockhart. “So I can lose fifteen, maybe twenty pounds?”
Dr. Marc frowned. “Twenty? You’d be shivering come next winter, Edith. For your frame, that’s a lot of weight to lose.”
She shrugged. “Twenty would give me a little leeway. Summer is right around the corner and I always gain weight in summer—you know how those ice cream socials can get out of hand.”
He laughed, patting his midsection. “Do I ever.”
“Good.” She sighed, feeling better now that she had his blessing. “I won’t take up any more of your time. Winslow is such a worry wart.”
The doctor led the way out of the exam room. “Remember now—no fad diets. Eat sensibly. Lots of fresh fruits—”
“—and vegetables,” Edith finished. “I know the routine, Doc.”
“But do you follow the routine?” He paused, turning to face her. “I mean it, Edith. You’re not as young as you once were—none of us are. Teenagers can get away with fad diets, but we older folks can’t. Dropping weight takes time, if done properly. You didn’t gain the weight overnight, and you shouldn’t take it off overnight. I recommend a program like Pound Pinchers—anything that offers group support. In fact, I believe there’s a Pound Pinchers meeting every Thursday morning in Ogunquit.”
The island women usually cleaned or quilted on Thursday mornings, and Edith didn’t want to miss the fellowship. Besides, she didn’t need to have her hand held through a diet. She was a grown woman, and she could manage most anything.
“Eighteen hundred calories a day should be about right for you,” the doctor went on “Enjoy a piece of cake or a scoop of ice cream once a week. The body craves variety, so don’t deprive yourself of everything you like.”
Oh, no. She hated to admit it, but a single taste of a forbidden food meant certain suicide for her diet. She would have to go cold turkey and eat none of her favorites until the weight was gone. The thought of the peach dress in the closet bolstered her confidence.
She could do it. She’d count calories, stop eating after eighteen hundred calories a day, and eat whatever she liked . . . except her red flag foods. Toss in a few fast walks around the island, and she’d be shipshape in no time.
“Thank you, Dr. Marc. I’ll be fine.”
She left the office feeling lighter in mind, if not in body. By the time Birdie’s and Salt’s wedding rolled around she would be slim and trim once again.
Delicious aromas drifted from the bakery as she crossed Ferry Road—Abner was making crullers. Her eyes searched the street for Tallulah, then an unexpected thought struck her.
What would become of Tallulah now that Edmund and Olympia were gone?