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Dorothy resolved that she ought to call Chet’s sister. Surely, that woman could console her.

Maybe, she’d even agree to sell their father’s house so that Chet could once more enrich his and Dorothy’s bank account as well as lose that place to which he had run.

“Hi Sam! How are you? Guess what? I bought a pregnancy test!”

The line hummed silently.

“Did I tell you about the snowplough that Addison built from Legos? Did you know that she learning to count to ninety-nine?”

Sam broke her silence. “Of course, she can. She has our blood. I think you should return to work, Dorothy. Children are expensive.”

“Well, Samantha...”

“I don't see why you can't give Terrance formula. After all those years of school, you should work. My kids are no worse for being raised on formula.”

“Actually, I’ve already begun to...”

“Has Chet had a break this week? He sounded so tired the last time we spoke.”

Addison ran out of her bedroom. “Auntie Sam? Mommy, I got to talk!”

On cue, Terrance erupted with earsplitting blasts. Dorothy handed her toddler the phone.

“Sam? Hi Sam! Oink-oink-oink. Cock-a-doodle-do. Aweeeoph. That's an elephant! Grrr. That’s a lion about to eat the elephant. I saw a video about how lions eat elephants. Aweeeoph..."

****

The next call Dorothy made was to Esmerelda, her lone sibling. Esmerelda lived in Hollywood and Malibu. She was a soap opera star.

For reasons that Dorothy hadn’t bothered to explore, after she had dialed Sam, Nancy Lynn’s mother, that unfailing goodwife, had knocked on her door and had asked to watch the children. Dorothy had smiled her thanks and then had promptly sequestered herself in her bedroom.

She took her phone out of its port, which was resting on the high shelf over her and Chet’s bed. She dialed her sister. Mr. Henry pushed the door open and then threw up a furball.

“Esmerelda?”

“Huh?”

“Did I wake you?”

“"No. Yeah. Everything o.k.? It's three a.m. What gives?”

“My neighbor’s watching the kids.” Suddenly, Dorothy burst into tears. “Es, Chet ran away!”

“What? Hold on. I’m grabbing my reading glasses.”

“To talk?”

“No, to think. Whatever. What’s going on?”

“Do you have an account in Iowa?”

“No. I had the worst day in my life. On top of that my only sibling calls me in the middle of the night and you're asking about Iowa? What the foo?”

“Nothing. You wouldn't believe it. I'm pregnant with twins!”

“Great. You’re fertile. Now, tell me why you’re calling. I’m the one with problems. Fran’s quitting.”

“Oh.”

“Dot, that means I'll have only one nanny. You listening?”

“Okay. No, not okay. I need to puke...hold on.” Dorothy put her head on her nightstand and slowly inhaled. She didn’t really want to move all the way to her en suite bathroom.

Withersmith tried to reach her face to lick it, but his nose didn’t extend far enough. In the space carved out of two closets, Terrance lay in his crib. As well, based on what sounded like toddler laughter and feline screeches, it seemed that Addison was once more torturing Mr. Henry.

“Of course. Es. Talk to me! I don't know what to do about your nanny.”

“Does Chet know?”

“That I’ve long been the Queen of Puke? Who doesn’t? This time, though, none of my tricks are working. Twins are more than double cargo. Es, twins! Reality check!”

“Mom know?”

“Not yet.”

“So, you’re fertile. Not news. What’s with Chet?”

“King who Works Late? Not much.”

“?”

“As per your nanny, hire another, use afterschool programs, or accept that Tonya and Zoe don’t need any care providers.”

“Don’t give me advice. Wait! You didn’t tell Chet?”

“Sorry. Tell me more about Fran leaving.”

“Chet?”

“…overwhelmed with a campaign for Polished Polish.”

“I like that brand. Anyway, Fran gave two weeks’ notice.”

“Shucks.”

“When’re you due?”

“After the spring line of nail polish comes out but before the fall line.”

“Evasive much?”

“I weaned Terrance so I could return to eating Maldivian food and yet, now, I’m so woozy that the thought of stuffed peppers, let alone stuffed cabbage, my absolute favorite, sends me hurling.”

“Chet didn’t notice!?”

“You had twins.”

“I had treatments. Twins are a typical, low-ball outcome. What’s with your husband? Where is he?”

“His father’s house.”

“His father’s dead.”

“Exactly. When he was home, all he looked at was the line of nail polish bottles adorning our table. He tested Definitely Daffodil on me, Pretty Pansy on Rudford, Cute Columbine on Withersmith, and received a significant wound on his face from trying to put Lovely Lenten Rose on Mr. Henry. He doesn’t realize that I saw him also dab Iridescent Iris on himself. The man’s in no state, this week, or even this month, to learn that his brood is about to double in size.”

“Maybe you need a nanny, too.”

“Nope, just animal-friendly nail polish remover. The new stuff stinks worse than the old stuff that I used on Withersmith and Rudford for our wedding. Our animals hate it.”

“What do you need?"

“Sleep. To stop throwing up. A tongue without morning fuzz. Mostly, I need my husband.” Dorothy cried for several minutes.

Esmerelda stayed silently on the line. “All that jazz! Send you money? We don’t have to talk about Fran quitting for the rest of our conversation.”

“Es! I really don’t care about your wayward nanny; I care about my wayward husband.”

A few more minutes of Dorothy’s tears and Esmerelda’s silence followed.

After Dorothy tried four square breathing, she asked Esmerelda, “you still there?”

“Not talking to anyone else at this hour.”

“You’re the best! Well, you'll have a new niece and nephew, or new nieces, or new nephews.”

“Which?"

“Don’t know. Don't care. Just want healthy babies and a home birth, but Magda won't let.”

“And G-d won't let me have babies naturally. Get a grip.”

Dorothy started crying again. “What I really want is Chet.”

“Hmm. Double the hormones means double the tears?”

“Yup.”

“So, how did he react? That man needs to grow a pair and fast.”

“I. told. You. He doesn’t know.”

“Half processing. It’s now three-thirty. In the morning.”

“The day I was going to tell him, he told me he quit his job. Es, he had just gotten a second salary increase. Before that, I had quit my job. We can’t feed six people without any income.”

“Maybe, he didn’t like his job?”

Suddenly, Dorothy recalled that she had promised to bring honey babka and a side of yabluchnyk to the next day’s coffee klatch.

“Gotta go!”

“What?”

“While my neighbor’s still watching the kids.”

“Hold on. It’s the middle of the night, here. We’re going to finish this. It’s the least you can do. As per funds, currently your family’s only has four people and the smallest takes formula. If you were still nursing him, you’d not have gotten preggers.”

“Don’t know. I enjoy my private time with Chet... or did when he lived here.”

“Okay, too much information. So, why’d he quit?”

“Don’t know. We fought, he packed his knapsack and then left for his father’s house.”

“Sweetie, call him. Apologize. Even if you’re 100% right and he’s 100% wrong, make peace. Trust me.”

Dorothy cried some more.

Esmerelda waited.

“Talk to you tomorrow, Dot?”

“Deal! By the way, I’m sorry you lost one of your nannies. Next time we talk, let’s make it a saner hour for you and we’ll focus on Fran.”

“Amen! I’m sorry you’re so queasy. Twins’ll look cute in pictures.”

“Es!”

“Deal. Why did you ask about Iowa?”

“Tomorrow, Es, tomorrow.”

****

“We could dip into the principle,” was all that a sheepish Chet had said when he crossed the threshold of their home.

“You mean the deposited mystery money? That was an enormous check, Chet. What if it was mistakenly sent to us and we have to return all that we spend?”

“Doesn't matter. We’ll fight about it later. For now, just kiss me.”

“I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you. I’m sorry.”

“Me, too, for getting mad at you. I think Sis and I ought to sell Dad’s house. There’s no use in it sitting empty.”

“Great idea! Snuggles tonight?”

“Love that!”

“Oops, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“You signed Addison up for toddler painting classes?”

“No, but that’s a great idea.”

“?”

“I’m pregnant. Twins.”

Chet eased himself onto the sofa. He didn’t cry. He just blinked.

****

That night, after a long session of snuggles, Dorothy regarded the luminous dial on their bedroom’s clock radio. It was late. No, early. Even the birds were asleep; no sunlight had yet broken through the sky. Suddenly, Addison and Terrance’s mom jumped up, pushed open the bathroom door, and pitched the last of her dinner into the toilet.

Back in bed, her mind wandered. What if, in Iowa City, a recalcitrant billionaire, one who was on the brink of divorce, had tried to shelter his money and what if his accountant, acting on the rich man’s behalf, had divested those holdings into paper companies, but had erred, by a single digit, while typing in a vital sequence? Almost one thousand new millionaires would have been made. She and Chet could be one of those one thousand new millionaires! The transfer would be legitimate but the funds wouldn’t ethically belong to them. The sender’s intent would make no difference.

The now and again lawyer frowned herself to sleep. She felt worse than nauseous. Sometimes, knowing the law is a burden.

****

“Ma, yes, Es was right—I have news. You see...oh, here's Chet, now. I forgot that he changed his schedule. Love that flex time! I'll bet he wants to say ‘hi.’ Talk to you later.”

Dorothy passed the receiver to her dripping husband. He had forgotten his umbrella, again.

“Hi, Ma. Gotta change. Here's Addison. Yes, I promise to hold the phone to Terrance when Addison’s done.”

Chet trudged toward the bedroom. He had noticed the unfolded laundry on the living room floor but had chosen to ignore it.

Incredibly, his boss had allowed him to adopt a hybrid, home/work schedule. It hadn’t hurt that Polished Polish had liked Chet’s simple-minded campaign for their lip gloss and had insisted on associating only with him.

Minutes later, he removed a foil package of uneaten stuffed cabbage from inside of his rain-sodden kakis. He listened to the sounds emanating beyond his bedroom’s door. Addison was still voicing animals to his mother-in-law. Terrance was still screaming.

Maybe, it wasn’t so bad, from time to time to be dishonest. Especially given the advent of their twins, he and Dorothy needed an immediate babymoon. One million was a lot of moula

****

In hindsight, Dorothy wished she had made the reveal to her husband at a normal hour. She wished, too, that Chet hadn’t abandoned her, their kids, and their pets because he had felt overwhelmed—she frequently felt overwhelmed but had never walked out on her family.

In the same way, she wished that her sister-in-law and her mother had been compassionate and that she didn’t feel obliged to Nancy Lynn’s parent for the many kindnesses that the older woman continued to bestow upon the Moores. She wished she hadn’t weaned Terrance just to be able to eat cruciferous vegetables. She wasn’t sure if she wished that she wasn’t having twins or not

Additionally, Dorothy wanted her life to be reduced to stroking her wiener dog and snuggling her hedgie. She wanted her cat would stop jumping through the kitchen window and, instead, return to purring on top of Dorothy’s head. Longing, though, only worked in fantasy novels.

In real life, Dorothy had an arthritic hedgehog that needed attention, a toddler and a baby for whom to care, and a marriage for which to fight. Daydreams lacked utility and her trips to the bathroom used up so many of her minutes.

She exhaled. It had been a mistake to regard law school as rigorous or to believe that being the most junior member of a law firm was onerous. Parenting was more difficult than any of her years’ tribulations.

****

Rudford’s arthritis got worse. Dorothy gagged when sprinkling the hedgehog’s anti-inflammatory powder into his bowl, so Chet took up that job, too.

Working partially from home wasn’t suiting him; Dorothy was treating him as a subcontractor for her tasks. At least, neither their dog, Withersmith, nor their cat, Mr. Henry, found the taste of medicated powder delectable. Addison, their toddler, however, was fascinated by that scintillating dust.

Perching Rudford’s dish on the counter kept that daughter from sampling the stuff but did nothing for their furze pig as he was too tiny to jump to such a height. Accordingly, thrice daily, Chet boosted up that huff-puff, watched him slowly eat dinner, and then lifted him down. Afterwards, Chet cleaned the counter.

Most recently, the vet had suggested using mealworms as an appetite aid for that prickly pet, rather than having the Moore Family rely on canned food. Chet had heeded the animal doc, while shuddering at the thought of Addison finding and sucking down those larvae.

Beyond pet care, Chet picked up Addison at tap, ballet, and painting classes. The dance classes were held at the local VFW, where Nancy Lynn, their teenage neighbor, had once learned. The art classes were held in the town’s community center, where seniors spent hours playing mahjong or trading grocery coupons. Both locations were walkable from the Moores’ home.

Nonetheless, it made no sense to him why his not-yet-preschool daughter needed so much stimulation. He would have been happy letting her watch wildlife videos in their living room or hiring Nancy Lynn to accompany her to a playground.

As it were, when Nancy Lynn often accompanied him to fetch Addison, At such times, Chet could return work-related texts as they walked.

Better were the days when Nancy Lynn, by herself, picked up Addison. On those occasions, Chet could stay home and work “uninterrupted.” At his current rate of pauses and restarts, the ad man figured he’d either be fired or docked of all vacation time and sick leave.

Worse, Dorothy had insisted that they start paying for Nancy Lynn’s horseback riding lessons. She had pressed Chet until he had agreed, likewise, to foot the bill for Nancy Lynn’s mother’s weekly manicures, which Dorothy had scheduled at their town’s costliest shop. When Chet had tried to protest, Dorothy had bawled, saying that while he couldn’t understand, he ought to try.

Although he and his wife had been mysteriously gifted one million dollars, and although, temporarily, they weighed using some of the principle for a babymoon, Dorothy had since stipulated that they use only the interest. She mandated that they not touch the money until the time, during which it could be reclaimed, had passed.

Consequently, Addison’s art class, Nancy Lynn’s riding class, and Nancy Lynn’s mom’s beauty treatments had been added to their already tightly stretched budget. Unfortunately, sesame oil, whole mace, and vanilla bean, items that made Chet smile, no longer fit their increasingly frugal grocery allowance.