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</div><span style="font-family: 'Georgia'">Not having had much experience with pregnant women before, Rikkie didn't feel particularly stupid at Miss Widcombe's curt remark about how caffeine might not be the thing to offer a woman carrying a child.  She promised herself that she'd know better the next time she encountered a similar situation.  Tea for a pregnant woman probably was much the same, too.  Then Miss Widcombe spirited Ms. Ishimoto away, ostensibly to show her where the bathroom was.  That made some sense, because from reading and television Rikkie had learned that embryos crowded the abdomen and could put pressure on the bladder.<br/>
<br/>
Then Rikkie briefly wondered an impossible to herself, 'What would it be like to be pregnant?'  The thought, 'Be real, Rikkie,' soon followed on the heels of the impossible thought.<br/>
<br/>
Before closing the door, after Ms. Ishimoto had fully entered, Rikkie had glanced outside.  The wind was starting to blow a bit harder and the sky was darkening a bit.  If the weather was going to get worse, she hoped that everyone that was coming was here or would be here soon.  'Click', sounded the door when it was fully shut.<br/>
<br/>
Rikkie had not seen any new cars approaching or people coming to the door, so she imagined that she'd have a few minutes, at least, to go look in a mirror and check her appearance.  There was a standing antique looking glass in the Library, so she headed that way.<br/>
<br/>
When she got there, she found the young Mr. Widcombe there, apparently enjoying a book.  Still, she wanted to make sure that she still looked presentable to the guests.  She decided to enter and hopefully Mr. Widcombe would not be disturbed much by her need to pop into the room.  Manners dictated that she at least excuse herself with a polite greeting.  Maybe they might chat?  Greg was four years older than Rikkie and nice.  Rikkie was never sure if he acted that way on his own or if the late Mr. Widcombe had told him to be civil with Rikkie.  They both liked books and Greg would recommend books for Rikkie to read, the books that he'd been reading four years earlier, when he was her age.<br/>
<br/>
He looked up from the book when she quietly stepped in front of the chair he was sitting in. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(247, 218, 100)"> "Welcome back, Mr. Widcombe,"</span> said Rikkie with a sad smile.  Given that he was Marcus' son and she was merely a maid, it would have be wrong to call him 'Greg'... unless he suggested it.  Calling him, 'Mr. Widcombe', though, because he wasn't Marcus Widcombe, made her a little sad and she fought to keep her sadness from showing on her face.  It was good to see the young Mr. Widcombe.  After today, circumstances being what they were, she might never see him again.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(247, 218, 100)">"Please excuse me,"</span> she continued gesturing at the mirror, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(247, 218, 100)">"I just need to use the glass to make sure that I'm still presentable."</span></span>