While putting something in the fridge at home, Brenda's attention is caught by the two blurry ultrasound photos stuck there with magnets. Aw, I remember when we used to have ultrasound pictures of M. Tiny on our fridge. Now we hang the actual kid there. We had to buy much stronger magnets, but it's totally worth it. Brenda picks up the phone and asks somebody to meet her for lunch.
Cut to Brenda at a restaurant later, sitting alone at a table and looking bored. She does that thing where you check your cell phone to make sure you didn't miss a call, a nice little modern "I'm beginning to think I'm being stood up" bit of business. Finally she happens to look out a window, where her mother has finally shown up. And she's saying a rather passionate goodbye to some gray-haired man we've never seen before. Finally, she enters the restaurant alone, giddily apologizing for her lateness and pleading paperwork. "Yeah, so I see," Brenda says sarcastically. Ma Chenowith turns to check Brenda's sightline out the window, and realizes her daughter must have caught the whole scene. Apparently the dude is some bigwig therapist or something. Ma says they ran into each other at a party, and "one thing led to another. You know how that is." "No, not really," says the woman who's had more sexual partners than she can name, and not just because she never learned some of their names. Rather than pointing that out, Ma just asks Brenda not to judge. She wonders if anyone else saw them, and we learn that unlike the rules Ma had in her marriage to Pa Chenowith, Olivier has some "antiquated" ideas about relationships. Like "don't bring home a teeming crop of groin-cooties"? I'm antiquated that way myself. Brenda sarcastically says that people are strange. Instead of calling the Pentagon to have them reposition a surveillance satellite to knock Brenda off her high horse, Ma just says, "Let's try and have some nice girl-time, shall we? Isn't that why you called?" Brenda says it is, and I wonder why, if that's what she wanted, she didn't call someone else. A point that is driven home when Ma offers Brenda the number of a personal trainer who will fix the "havoc" that the pregnancy is going to wreak on Brenda's body. "I can't wait," Brenda says, rather than pointing out how much Nate is looking forward to her ass-tattoo of his name going up a few font sizes.
David and Nate are just finishing up with giving Mrs. Corpse of the Week and Maggie a tour of the facilities. Mrs. CotW wants to be sure there won't be another funeral going on in the other room. David brightly says that "I can assure you, you won't hear anything during your 'silent centering time.' Except a few grumbling tummies, I suppose." David titters at that, all by himself. And then he leads Mrs. CotW off to fill out some forms so Nate can be alone with his sweetie. He asks for clarification on the "silent centering time" thing. "Silent worship," Maggie corrects. "We believe that God is within all of us. If we get together and are silent, hopefully we each hear something from God." Nate asks what happens if you don't, and Maggie says she just makes something up. Ah, so she's a Quaker faker. Sorry. Don't email me. "How do you know God's not telling you what to make up?" Nate asks seriously. Maggie asks him if something's wrong. Oh, like Nate would ever dream of burdening Maggie with his problems.