The Next Best Thing. Kristan Higgins

An obstetrician. She says nursing’s best.” It is true that my cousin Anne is a lesbian and an obstetrician…not a doctor to lesbians (or not solely lesbians) as Iris’s description always causes me to think. Bob murmurs something, then slinks out the door with another look of longing for my mother, which she pretends to ignore.

      “I never nursed,” Rose muses. “In my day, only the hippies nursed. They don’t bathe every day, you know. The hippies.”

      Corinne takes the baby to the only table in Bunny’s—the Black Widows don’t encourage people to linger. “This is not the Starbucks,” they like to announce. “We don’t ship food in from a truck. Get your fancy—shmancy coffee somewhere else. This is a bakery.” My aunts are one of the many reasons the Starbucks down the street does such a brisk business.

      Corinne lifts up her shirt discreetly, fumbles at her bra, then moves the baby into position. She winces, gasps and then, seeing me watch, immediately slaps a smile on her face.

      “Does it hurt?” I ask.

      “Oh, no,” she lies. “It’s…a little…it’s fine. I’ll get used to it.” Sweat breaks out on her forehead, and her eyelids flutter in pain, but that smile doesn’t drop.

      The bell rings again, announcing another visitor. Two, in this case. Parker and Nicky.

      “Nicky!” the Black Widows cry, falling on the lad like vultures on fresh roadkill. The boy is kissed and hugged and worshipped. He grins at me, and I wave, my heart swelling with love. He is a beautiful boy, the image of Ethan.

      “Is there frosting?” he asks, and my mother and aunts lead him to the back to sugar him up.

      “Frosting’s not good for him, Parker,” my sister points out, wiping the nursing—induced sweat from her forehead. “It’s all sugar. You shouldn’t let them give Nicky sugar.”

      “Well, given that my aunts taught me how to throw up after meals,” Parker replies calmly, “a little frosting therapy seems pretty benign.” She smiles at me. “Hi, Luce.”

      “Hi, Parker,” I return, smiling back.

      Maybe it’s because she was the first friend I made after being widowed, one of the few people in town who hadn’t known me before, maybe it’s because I generously ignore the fact that she’s tall, slim, gorgeous and rich, but Parker and I are friends. The first thing she ever said to me upon learning that I was Ethan’s brother’s widow, was “Jesus! That just sucks!” No platitudes, no awkward expressions of sympathy. I found that quite refreshing. I was rather flattered when she called me after her breakup with Ethan, and even more when she included me on the details of her pregnancy. At the time, everyone else was still doing the kid—gloves thing. Don’t mention babies…she’s a widow. Don’t talk about your love life…she’s a widow. To Parker, I was just me—a widow, yes, but a person first. You’d be surprised how rare that take on things can be.

      “So this is the baby,” Parker says now, leaning over to gaze on Emma, who is glugging away like a frat boy at a kegger. “Wow. She really is beautiful, Corinne.”

      “Thanks,” Corinne says, shifting the baby away so as to avoid any ebola or tuberculosis Parker may be carrying. “Lucy, can you just reach into my bag and dial Chris’s number? I just want to check in.”

      “You just called him,” I remind her.

      “I know,” she says, a tear slipping down her cheek.

      “You okay, honey?” I ask. “Is this just hormonal?”

      “I’m wonderful,” she says, smiling through her tears.

      I do as instructed. Corinne takes the phone and stands, the baby still firmly attached, and wanders into the corner to talk with her husband once more.

      “Your sister has issues,” Parker states, glancing into the kitchen to ensure that her son is eating enough frosting. She takes Corinne’s seat and smiles.

      “True enough. How was your weekend?”

      “It was great. Ethan came over, and we all watched Tarzan, and then he rigged up a rope in the dining room so Nicky could swing around like the Ape Man. Wait till my dad sees that.” She smiles fondly. The dining room at Grayhurst (yes, the house has a name, which I always thought was so cool) probably could seat a couple dozen.

      “Sounds fun.” I pause. “Um, so, guess what? I’m going to start dating again.”

      “Oh, yeah? You and Ethan gonna be a real couple?”

      Parker knows about Ethan and me and our, er, arrangement. I told her one night, over too many mojitos and not enough food. Parker never seemed to have a problem with it. It was long after they’d broken up, after all.

      “No. Not Ethan. He’s just…no.”

      “He’s just what?” Parker asks, picking up one of Corinne’s ignored cookies and taking a bite. “He’s great in bed, as I dimly recall. Of course, it was almost five years ago, and we were only together a little while, but I remember this thing he did—”

      “Shh!” I glance around, praying that the Black Widows haven’t overheard. “Please, Parker!”

      “What?”

      “What? Well, Ethan’s my brother—in—law,” I whisper. “And just for the record—again—no one else knows that we’ve been…um…intimate. I’d like to keep it that way, okay?”

      “Well, aside from him being Jimmy’s brother, why?” Parker says in a lower voice. “He’s a great dad, which I’m sure is number one on your list of priorities.”

      I blink. “How did you know there was a list?”

      “Please. Of course there’s a list. Probably a color—coded list.”

      There is a list, of course, and yes, Strong Fatherhood Potential is indeed in the top three (in red, for nonnegotiable). I bite my lip. “Well, Ethan’s not, um…the right type.”

      “Except in bed?” Parker suggests with an evil smile.

      “Shh, Parker! Come on!” She chuckles, and I sigh. “He’s just not…well, first of all, I want a husband who’s not going to die anytime soon. And Ethan’s always jumping out of things and driving a motorcycle and stuff like that.”

      “He wears a helmet,” Parker says.

      “Not good enough.”

      “So is immortality also on the list, then?” She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

      “Of course not. I’m not unrealistic. But yes, Low Risk for Early Death is on the list.” Number one in fact. Parker grins, and I continue. “The fact remains that Ethan, while a great guy, is just not for me, okay? And you know exactly what I’m talking about, because you’ve told me the same thing, even though you’d make a beautiful family and could have more little Nickys running around.”

      Parker smiles. “Did you know he moved back to Mackerly?”

      I pause. “Ethan?”

      “Yes, dummy.”

      “What do you mean?”

      Parker takes another bite of cookie. “He took a job with International Food’s headquarters in Providence so he could be closer to Nick. Around all the time, not just on weekends.”

      “Oh,” I say, mildly hurt that I don’t know this already. Right…he mentioned something Friday night about having something to tell me, but must’ve forgotten. “Wow. That’s big news.”

      “Mmm. Anyway. He’ll be back permanently as of this weekend.”

      “Well. That’s good.” I pause. “Good for Nicky, certainly.”

      “Mommy! I ate blue frosting!” Speaking of Nick, the little guy charges out