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You Two...Two - 7-3 — Description

Emmie, slightly less encumbered, had made it farther into the backyard garden of the mansion listed on the mixer's invite. With most of the women loitering around the back patio and cocktail bar, she figured she was safe to stick to the far edges and examine the plants...it had worked in some capacity for most every party, dance, and other social event she'd attended prior, particularly when she didn't have someone more extroverted to use as a buffer.

This time, however, was different. As she admired the shrubbery, she first picked up the unmistakable odor of cigarette smoke, followed by the sharp tapping of high heels on cobblestone. A woman in a floral dress approached her, and said "I think you must be new here, I'm Taylor. And you are?" in a rather uptight, stuffy tone, and sounded almost as if she was trying to stifle an accent of some sort...
"I'm...Emma. I'm the lab instructor at the college in town. The David Grant Wom...." Taylor waved her drink and cut her off, "Oh yes, that one. I'm on the board there, you know. Why we're teaching science, I have no idea. Such a useless class." Taylor talked on, "Oh! I see you're expecting! How many?"
"Three...I'm...having triplets," Emmie replied nervously.
"I?" Taylor asked, confused, "You mean to say that you and your husband are having triplets?" The questioning, coming at Emmie in a uniquely judgmental tone, started to make her uncomfortable. She brought her hands up to her belly, as if somehow hiding it from Taylor's line of sight would make things stop. It did not. Emmie broke the silence by saying "M....my girlfriend is expecting too...she's around here, somewhere."
Taylor's eyes flashed wide for a second as she processed everything - an expression change that Emmie saw and understood completely. Taylor took a sip of her champagne and a pull of her cigarette, but was still flustered as she said "Oh...hunny...that ain't how we do things 'round here," the posh accent she used with newcomers being replaced by something far, far different.
Emmie froze and stared at Taylor. The switch from uppity to squirrel-eatin'-hillbilly was very unexpected.
Taylor, slowly falling apart, curtly patted Emmie's hand on her belly and suggested she "git ye'self married in a proper fashion" finally stifling her accent before clicking her way back towards the throng of housewives.

Emmie looked around for Madison.