Part 16 (2/2)
Dana was beside herself. Responding to a tiny, responsible voice in her head, she slid her feet to the floor and prepared to take Lizzie upstairs.
”What about this weekend?” Hugh asked.
”What about it?”
”Will you be at your grandmother's?”
”Some of the time.”
”Julian and Deb want to come over. And Jim and Rita.”
”That's fine.”
”Will it be awkward?”
Awkward? Given the weekend that they might have had, it would be totally awkward. ”Not for me,” she said, suddenly furious. ”I think our baby is perfect. You're the one with the problem. Maybe if you tell them about my grandmother's medical problem they'll wait a while.”
”I don't think I can put them off.”
”Then you're the one who has to worry about awkwardness. Are you going to let them know you aren't sure she's your child?”
”Of course not.”
”Then you'll pretend she is. Ah. Another show. Think you can pull it off?”
They stared at each other for the longest time, Dana standing, Hugh in his chair. She refused to take back the words.
Finally, he said, ”Is that cynicism or fatigue?”
Quickly remorseful, she took a breath and said gently, ”I suspect it's both. I'm going to bed.”
Chapter 13.
Eaton Clarke had heartburn. He suspected it was the Mexican food they had had Friday night. The restaurant was new and well reviewed. He had been the one to suggest that they try it, and the two couples with them were game. But he'd had a bad feeling about the place from the minute they walked in. The tables were too close together and the waiter too familiar.
The dinner conversation hadn't helped. Everyone wanted to talk about Hugh and his baby-or, more pointedly, Dana and her child-because Eaton's brother Brad had spread word about the question of the baby's paternity. In the course of three hours, Eaton got more advice than he wanted. It was either ”Do not establish a college fund if the child isn't yours,” or ”Change your will,” or even ”It wouldn't hurt to put the Vineyard house in trust.”
His chest burned all night. He felt better when he woke up Sat.u.r.day morning, but worse when he joined his partners for their weekly tennis game. They, too, had advice.
He was in a thoroughly bad mood when he called his brother on his way home from the club. ”What in the h.e.l.l are you doing, Brad? I can't go anywhere without people knowing about Hugh's baby. Is there some reason you're telling everyone in sight that Hugh may not be the father?”
”It's true. He may not be.”
”But he may be, and then what? This is our personal business, Brad.”
”Not if the child isn't Hugh's. I saw the look on his face the other afternoon. He's furious with his wife. I'm telling you, Eaton, trouble's brewing there.”
Eaton didn't like his tone. ”Does that please you?”
”It has nothing to do with whether it pleases me or not. We all had our questions about Dana.”
”I thought you liked her.”
”I did while she was faithful, but it looks like Hugh has a live one on his hands.”
”Does that please you? Does Hugh's situation make you feel less bad about your daughter's divorce?”
”Anne's divorce has nothing to do with this,” Brad shot back. ”If you think I'm playing a game of t.i.t-for-tat, you're off the mark. Not that that surprises me. You're the writer, and I'm the businessman. You're sitting around waiting for royalties, while I'm making all of us more wealthy. I don't play games, Eaton. I have more important things to do.”
”That's right,” Eaton concluded, ”so just shut your mouth about Hugh. Don't be a petty little busybody. This isn't your business. Keep your nose out of it.”
He ended the call knowing that he had offended his brother, but having had the last word, Eaton felt a perverse satisfaction. It vanished when Dorothy met him at the door with word that Justin Field had called no more than two minutes earlier. Justin was his longtime friend, personal lawyer, and the executor of his estate.
”What does he want?” Eaton asked, though he feared he knew.
”We talked a bit about the wedding plans for Julie. Justin and Babs are very excited. She's thirty-eight, so they'd almost given up hope, but he went on and on about how wonderful the fiance is. Then he said he wanted to talk with you about Hugh.”
Eaton stood at the rosewood hall table, sifting through the mail as he spoke. ”Is it a coincidence that I just played tennis with Justin's partner?” he barked. ”These men are little old ladies!”
After a single silent beat, Dorothy remarked, ”So am I.”
”Oh, Dot, you know what I mean. Little old ladies gossip because they have nothing else to do with their time. You have other things.”
”I gossip. Only I don't see it as gossip. I see it as sharing news with friends.”
He looked at her, wondering where she was headed. ”Are you malicious?”
”Of course not.”
”There's your difference,” he decided. ”My tennis friends are very happy to see me slip up. Same with Bradley. He's never gotten over the fact that I refused to follow him into the business, and as for my tennis partners, they're still smarting because I won't give them unlimited numbers of signed editions of my books. Is there some good reason why they can't go out and buy the copies that they want signed for their wife's cousin's proctologist? Am I a charity?”
”No, dear,” Dorothy said. ”I believe that's what Justin wants to discuss.”
Eaton eyed her sharply. ”My being a charity?”
”Your being treated like one by Hugh's wife in the event that his marriage falls apart. It's no different from what our friends said last night.”
”Which was extremely annoying.”
”They're simply acting out of concern for you.”
”Have I asked for their help?”
”No, but you haven't denied it, and that is often an invitation.” Her tone grew plaintive. ”You don't say anything, Eaton. You just let the questions sit there. Why don't you simply tell them they're wrong? Why don't you tell them that this child is Hugh's, and that there's nothing wrong with his marriage, and that the child's coloring adds an interesting element to the family, because it does, you know. I have no problem having a grandchild of African-American descent. Do you?”
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