Family Tree Read Free Page B

it. “Just remembering how relieved I felt that it all turned out,” she said.
    â€œSo was a celebration in order?”
    â€œSure.” Annie smiled at the memory. “Martin celebrated with a candlelight dinner . . . and a marriage proposal.”
    â€œWhoa. Oh my gosh. You’re Cinderella.”
    They had married eight years ago. Eight busy, productive, successfulyears. Sometimes, when they went over-the-top with expensive stunts, like diving for oysters, foraging for truffles, or milking a Nubian goat, Annie would catch herself wondering what happened to her key ingredient, the original concept for the show. The humble idea was buried in the lavish episodes she produced these days. There were moments when she worried that the program had strayed from her core dream, smothered by theatrics and attention-grabbing segments that had nothing to do with her initial vision.
    The show had taken on a life of its own, she reminded herself, and that might be a good thing. With her well-honed food savvy and some nimble bookkeeping, she made it all work, week in and week out.
    â€œ You’re the key ingredient,” Martin would tell her. “Everything came together because of you. Next time we’re in contract talks, we’re going to negotiate an on-camera role for you. Maybe even another show.”
    She didn’t want another show. She wanted The Key Ingredient . But she’d been in L.A. long enough to know how to play the game, and a lot of the game involved patience and vigilance over costs. The challenge was staying exciting and relevant—and on budget.
    CJ made some swift notes on her tablet. Annie tried to be subtle about checking the time and thinking about the day ahead, with errands stacking up like air traffic over LAX.
    She had to pee. She excused herself and headed to the upstairs bathroom.
    And that was when it hit her. She was late. Not late to work—it was already established that she was going to be late to the studio. But late late.
    Her breath caught, and she stood at the counter, pressing the palms of her hands down on the cool tile.
    She exhaled very slowly and reminded herself that it had been only a few weeks since they’d started trying. No one got pregnant that quickly, did they? She’d assumed there would be time to adjust to the idea ofstarting a family. Time to think about finding a bigger place, to get their schedule under control. To stop quarreling so much.
    She hadn’t even set up an ovulation calendar. Hadn’t read the what-to-expect books. Hadn’t seen a doctor. It was way too soon for that.
    But maybe . . . She grabbed the kit from under the sink—a leftover from a time when she had not wanted to be pregnant. If she didn’t rule out the possibility, it would nag at her all day. The directions were dead simple, and she followed them to the letter. And then, oh so carefully, she set the test strip on the counter. Her hand shook as she looked at the little results window. One pink line meant not pregnant. Two lines meant pregnant.
    She blinked, making sure she was seeing this correctly. Two pink lines .
    Just for a moment, everything froze in place, crystallized by wonder. The world fell away.
    She held her breath. Leaned forward and stared into the mirror, wearing a look she’d never seen on her own face before. It was one of those moments Gran used to call a key moment. Time didn’t simply tick past, unremarked, unnoticed. No, this was the kind of moment that made everything stop. You separated it from every other one, pressing the feeling to your heart, like a dried flower slipped between the pages of a beloved book. The moment was made of something fragile and delicate, yet it possessed the power to last forever.
    That, Gran would affirm, was a key moment. Annie felt a lump in her throat—and a sense of elation so pure that she forgot to breathe.
    This is how it begins, she thought.
    All the myriad things on her