Kitabı oku: «Promises, Promises», sayfa 3

He didn’t smile back at her. He couldn’t. He knew he was stalling, asking questions to put off having to give her an answer. The real question was, Why?

Because he would have staked his reputation on the wager that she was not a woman who entered into an affair lightly. Considering that they’d spoken to each other more today than they had in the sum total of their conversations over the prior two years, he was at a loss to explain why she had made the offer.

“Well?” she repeated. “What do you think?”

What did he think? That it was the best idea he’d heard all week. That it had been a long time since a woman had made him so aware of his maleness and her femaleness. That he’d be a fool to say no.

The best thing about it was that she was offering what every man dreamed of: a no-strings-attached, fleeting affair. She was offering what he offered every woman he got involved with. So why was he hesitating? It wasn’t like him to be gallant.

Yes, she was his landlady, which offered up all sorts of potential complications. But there was more. Despite the come-on, he sensed a loneliness about her and an underlying tension. Something wasn’t right here. She wasn’t herself, and until he knew why, Marco couldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability. He had no choice but to say no.

“I think,” he said carefully, reluctantly, “that the timing isn’t right.”

She looked away from him, but not before he caught a flash of what he could swear was relief in her eyes. He had been right. Something was definitely going on here. If only he could figure out what it was.

“So you’re saying no,” she said flatly.

“Have you had an accident at work?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Have you fallen, hit your head? Perhaps a reaction to a new medication? You’re not acting at all like yourself today.”

Her body went rigid. “Oh? And just how should I be acting?”

“This isn’t you, Gretchen.”

Her gaze met his, her eyes defiant. If relief was what he’d glimpsed in them a minute ago, it was absent now.

“What isn’t me?”

“This.” He swept an arm out. “The car, the clothing, the come-on. Especially the come-on.”

She bit her lip and looked down at her lap. “So, what you’re saying is that I look ridiculous.”

“Not ridiculous,” he replied gently. “Not even close. You just seem a little…well, uncomfortable.”

For a long minute she didn’t say anything. Then, with a rueful smile, she tugged at the hemline of her dress.

“You’d be uncomfortable, too, if you’d poured yourself into this thing. It’s so tight I can barely breathe. It may fit like a second skin, but it feels like a tourniquet.”

“For what it’s worth, you look great.”

“Not great enough to make you want me.”

If only she knew how wrong she was. “I have my reasons, Gretchen.”

“And I respect them. Don’t worry. I won’t bother you anymore with my unwanted attentions.”

“They’re not entirely unwanted,” he admitted.

“They’re just…”

“Inconvenient?”

It was as good a word as any. “The dress really isn’t you, you know.”

“Why?” Her voice took on a bitter note. “Because it isn’t practical?”

“Yes. No. I guess so,” he ended lamely, not knowing what to say.

“And I’m a practical woman.”

“I’ve always thought of you that way.”

“Well, maybe I’ve decided to erase the word practical from my vocabulary.”

“What’s wrong with being practical?”

“Let me ask you something,” she retorted. “When’s the last time you took a practical woman like me to your bed?”

When he didn’t answer, she gave a hollow laugh. “That’s what I thought.”

Shifting, she pulled back onto the highway. At the first exit she turned around and headed for home. The sun was setting when she pulled into her garage.

“Thank you for the ride,” Marco said, feeling awkward.

“Anytime.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Next time, though, I’ll leave out the seduction scene.”

“Gretchen,” he began.

She held up a hand. “It’s okay. You don’t have to try to make me feel better. I’m a big girl. I’ll be just fine.”

There was so much he wanted to say to her. That he thought she was the loveliest thing he’d ever seen. That he wanted her. That he regretted his clumsiness in his handling of the situation. That, under the proper circumstances, he would kill to have a wild, crazy affair with her. That he was there for her if she just wanted to talk.

The way she held her body, stiff and unyielding, told him the words wouldn’t be welcome, so he remained mute. When they parted at their respective front doors, Marco felt more confused than ever.

She’d blown it. Big-time.

Bracing one hand on the edge of the kitchen sink, Gretchen pressed a frosted mug of root beer to cheeks that still burned with embarrassment. Outside her kitchen window the sun dropped below the horizon. A romantic scene if ever there was one, and she was watching it all alone. Which was a good thing, because she had never felt more mortified in her entire life.

How could she ever face him again?

She hadn’t set out to try to seduce him. For one thing, she was in the middle of her period, which made things logistically difficult. The only purpose of the dress and the drive was to get his attention and to, hopefully, pique his interest. No one—except maybe Marco himself—had been more surprised when the words rolled out of her mouth. If she had piqued any interest on his part, it was whether or not she was playing the cards of life with a full deck.

What hurt the most was that she’d planned it out so painstakingly. For the past three and a half weeks, during which time she’d recovered from lasik surgery, had her hair styled and bought a whole new wardrobe, she’d been careful to keep out of his sight. She’d been especially careful to confine her piano practice to times when she was certain he wasn’t home.

While she’d waited for the perfect time to put her plan into action, she’d read books on flirting, along with car brochures. She’d found herself listening for Marco and trying to ascertain his schedule. Then, when she was ready, she’d dressed herself up and shamelessly placed herself in his path.

The naked appreciation in his eyes had made her giddy. For the first time in what seemed forever, a man wasn’t looking at her for just her mind. On the contrary, Marco had regarded her solely as a sexual object. Though she had known that officially she should be offended, she hadn’t been able to summon up any indignation. The look in Marco’s eyes was heady stuff for someone who was used to having men’s glances slide away from her to more attractive women.

Never before had Gretchen felt such confidence, such an incredible sense of her power as a woman. And it had all fallen apart the minute she’d thrown caution to the wind rushing through their hair and propositioned him.

She heaved a heavy sigh. What had every flirting book instructed? Dress your best. Be mysterious. Play hard to get. Keep him off balance.

If Marco’s reaction was anything to go by, she’d gotten the dressing-her-best part down pat. The mysterious part was harder to judge. As for being hard to get, what a laugh. She was the mouse who had baited its own trap.

She had kept him off balance, though. She’d driven him to the middle of nowhere at a speed that had shaved a year or two off his life. Then she’d pulled to the side of the road and ambushed him. He hadn’t even seen it coming.

No wonder the poor man had seemed so terrified. Had they been any closer to home, he probably would have jumped from the car and run.

Which all went to prove that she was no good at seduction.

She’d kept her promise, and that was all that mattered, she told herself. She’d asked, and he’d said no. What more could she do? Besides, with Marco out of the picture, she could now concentrate on the piano competition, which was only a little more than three months away. She should be relieved. Why, then, did she feel so disappointed? So empty. So…restless.

Gretchen drank deeply from the mug, then placed it in the sink. “So Marco Garibaldi turned you down,” she said to her reflection in the window. “Big deal! Is the world going to end? Sure, your pride’s a little dented, but you’ll recover. The condition isn’t terminal.”

Like Jill’s had been.

Jill. Gretchen drew herself up straight. The revelation that came to her was like a flash of lightning in the darkest night. What was the one lesson she should have learned from Jill’s untimely death? That life was short, precariously short. And that she, Gretchen Montgomery, was wasting precious time.

When all was said and done, after the makeover and all the new clothes, what had really changed? Nothing. She was still the same Gretchen inside that she’d always been.

The one promise that Jill had extracted, and which didn’t cost a cent, was the very promise Gretchen had overlooked entirely. By dutifully spending a huge sum of money on a flashy car and a new wardrobe, she’d carried out the law of her promises, but not the spirit. She’d adopted the outward appearance while ignoring the inward attitude.

This wasn’t about seducing Marco Garibaldi. It wasn’t about seducing any man. It most certainly wasn’t about buying a flashy sports car and blowing her inheritance on impractical things.

It was about living and enjoying life. It was about appreciating every moment in a way she never had before.

What was it Jill had said to her? Remember that line from Auntie Mame? “Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death.” I want you to feast, Gretch, feast like no one has feasted before.

Jill was right. She’d been going at it all wrong. No book, no wardrobe, no flashy car, and certainly no man was going to teach her how to get the most out of life. That had to come from inside of her. Just as a wild, crazy affair had to happen spontaneously. It couldn’t be planned. She knew that now.

Gretchen recalled the exhilaration of flying down the road at eighty-five miles per hour. That was the way she wanted to feel every day of her life. That was the way she wanted to feel when a man took her into his arms.

It was all so clear now. Why had it taken her so long to see it, to understand what Jill had really been doing when she’d extracted all those promises from her? Life was too short. Too short for regrets, too short for fears, too short for embarrassments, too short for not doing all the things she’d always wanted to do.

Sometime, between now and the end of her life, she would have a wild, crazy affair. But not with a stranger, no matter how much he made her toes curl. She’d have that affair with the man who ultimately ended up owning her heart, the man who would love her and cherish her as much as she did him.

Until that time, though, Gretchen was done being timid. She was done being hesitant. She was done living her life for her career and ignoring everything else. She’d keep the car and the wardrobe, and she’d use them to bring her pleasure. From now on, she was going to live as if there was no tomorrow.

“How’s it going?” Gary asked.

“Fine.” Gretchen sank down into a chair and crossed her legs. “I should be wrapping up the Harrison account today.”

“Good to hear. By the way, I like your dress. It’s very flattering.”

She glanced down at the camel-colored silk coatdress. Though not as tight as the black dress she’d worn the day before when she’d taken Marco Garibaldi for a ride, it was just as short. She was growing accustomed to the length of leg it exposed. Just as she was growing accustomed to, and even enjoying, the admiring glances the outfit garnered from the other men in the office.

“Thanks. I like it, too.”

Leaning forward, Gary placed his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers. “Can I ask you something I’ve been wondering about, but never quite had the courage to ask?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

“Why is it you had to come to me for advice on how to attract a man? Why didn’t you already know these things?”

It was a subject she’d given a lot of thought recently. “I was an only child. My parents were older when they had me, and they were very old-fashioned in their behavior and their dress. I guess it rubbed off on me.”

“You never rebelled? Not even as a teenager?”

“No. You see, I wore the label ‘smart’ all through school. It wouldn’t have mattered how I dressed or behaved. The popular kids just looked right through me. Besides, I was too busy studying and taking care of my mother when she got sick. Then, in college, when my dad got sick, I took care of him, too. It wasn’t that I was unaware of the way my peer group dressed and behaved. I just didn’t have time to join them.”

“Do you regret it?”

She thought for a minute. “No. The only thing I regret is that Jill didn’t have more time.”

“So, this is your time,” he said.

“Yes.” She smiled. “I plan on making the most of it.”

“Good to hear.” He drew a breath. “How’s the seduction campaign going?”

“Oh, that.” She waved a hand airily. “Dead in the water. He turned me down flat.”

Gary peered closely at her. “You don’t seem upset about it.”

“I’m not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know now it wasn’t meant to be. Actually, that’s why I came to see you. I know it’s short notice, but I need to take next week off.”

“The whole week?”

She nodded. “Every single day.”

“I’m not sure we can spare you that long.”

“It’s not like it’s busy season, Gary. April fifteenth is still a whole eight and a half months away. The Harrison account will be wrapped up, and Laura and Jack will easily be able to take up the slack.”

“It’s that important to you?” he asked.

“It’s that important,” she confirmed. “You know I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t.”

“What are you planning to do?”

“All the things I’ve never done.”

“All of them?”

“Well,” she amended, chuckling, “as many of them as I can cram into one week. The rest I’ll just have to get to as I can.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Rising, she headed for the door.

“Just because he turned you down, it doesn’t mean you have to give up,” Gary said.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I know. But you see, I realized something. I’m the one who’s not ready for a wild, crazy affair. Not yet. But I will be someday.”

“Maybe after the week off,” he said.

“Maybe. I’ll know when the time is right.”

“Have fun,” Gary said.

She flashed him a smile. “Thanks. I intend to.”

Chapter 3

He had to stop thinking about her.

Marco knotted and cut the fifth of six required stitches on an eight-year-old’s chin and tried to make his mind blank. It was a waste of effort. If he didn’t know better, he could swear he was suturing Gretchen Montgomery’s image to the viewing screen of his mind, instead of closing a little girl’s cut.

He snipped the thread from the last suture and stood back to survey his handiwork. Neat. Clean. Although the cut had been a wide one, the scar should barely be noticeable.

It was the child’s silky brown hair that had him thinking of his landlady. This time. Over the past three days since her unexpected proposal, any variety of sights and sounds had served to bring her to mind. A woman’s laughter. A glimpse of a slender leg. Anyone with brown eyes. The sound of a car engine. It was driving him crazy.

The fact that they were having an uncharacteristically slow day in the E.R. wasn’t helping, either.

“All done, Taylor,” he said, after applying a bandage. “So, did I keep my word? Did it hurt?”

Taylor rewarded him with a wide, gap-toothed smile. “It didn’t hurt at all, Dr. Marco. Just like you promised. Thanks.”

“No thanks necessary. You were a very brave girl. But you might want to think twice the next time you decide to see if you can fly. I think you should leave that to birds and airplanes.”

“Okay,” she agreed readily, making Marco chuckle. The child was a good-natured imp. She was also, according to her mother, somewhat of a daredevil. Add inquisitive and extremely bright to the mix, and it was a given that this wouldn’t be her last trip to the pit, as everyone who worked there called the emergency room.

Still smiling, Marco turned to Taylor’s mother. “How are you doing?”

The woman gave a wan smile. “Honestly? She scared me half to death.”

“Well, you have my word that Taylor will be just fine.”

Once again, as Marco gave cleaning instructions and soothed the worried mother’s fears, thoughts of Gretchen Montgomery invaded his consciousness. They continued to bedevil him as he moved on to his next patient and throughout the remainder of his shift.

“I have to stop thinking about her,” he said out loud, hours later, as he stared unseeingly at a television drama. He’d been watching for twenty minutes, and he hadn’t the faintest idea what the story line was.

He couldn’t figure out his sudden fixation on a woman he barely knew. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had his share of relationships. According to Brian, he’d had more than his fair share. And when they’d ended, he’d never looked back. So why, when he hadn’t had so much as a date with his landlady, let alone a relationship with her, was she all he could think about?

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe if he had a brief affair with her, he would be able to get her out of his mind. After all, she had offered. Maybe this was his subconscious’s way of telling him that he’d been a fool to turn her down.

Fool or not, he knew his decision had been a wise one. Something just hadn’t seemed right about her unexpected proposition. Heaven forbid he should become entangled with her, only to discover she was some sort of psycho stalker, the way it often happened in movies where men were propositioned by women they didn’t know.

To show just how addled he’d become over her, his first thought when his doorbell rang at ten o’clock was that it was his landlady, coming to repeat her offer. Which was ridiculous. Other than to bring him a casserole the day he moved in, Gretchen Montgomery had never come to his door. If she needed to communicate with him, she left a note in his mailbox or a message on his answering machine.

But then, he reminded himself, prior to three days ago she’d never taken him for a car ride, either. Or propositioned him. She had been acting out of character lately. Was it so far-fetched to think she might be standing on his doorstep?

“This is getting ridiculous,” he muttered, climbing to his feet and walking out into the hallway. Mentally he vowed to put her out of his mind once and for all. Enough was enough.

“Hey, buddy,” Brian said when he opened the door.

Marco stood stock-still while he took in the sight of his best friend with a baby tucked in one arm and a diaper bag hanging from the other. Thoughts of Gretchen Montgomery fled as a sense of foreboding filled him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked urgently. “Is Kristen sick?”

Brian’s smile seemed forced. “Kristen’s fine. Can’t a guy drop in on his best friend, without his motives being suspect?”

“Not when he has his baby in tow. It’s ten o’clock, Bri. Rather late for the two of you to be out for an evening stroll. Isn’t it past her bedtime?”

“A little,” Brian agreed.

“Where’s Val?”

Brian looked over his shoulder to where a late model SUV idled at the curb. “Getting some things from the car. She’ll join us in a minute.”

Marco expelled an impatient breath. “Do you plan on keeping me in suspense forever, or are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“You going to invite me inside?”

He stood aside while his friend filed past him into the hallway. “Okay, spill it,” he demanded.

Brian avoided eye contact. “In a minute. First, I need you to answer a couple of questions. Are you on your off stretch?”

One of the perks of working in the pit, other than not being tied to a patient list, was that he worked for three weeks straight, then had one week off. Yes, the nineteen days in a row he did work were grueling, but the nine days that he had free gave him ample time to recover. It also gave him time to spend with his family.

“As of four hours ago.”

“That’s what I thought.” Brian peered into the living room, where the television blared to an absent audience. “No date?”

“No date,” Marco replied with exaggerated patience.

“Okay, I’ll get to the point.” Brian drew a deep breath. “Since you’re free, I was wondering if you could do me a favor. A huge favor, actually. I was wondering if you could watch Kristen for Val and me.”

Marco felt his eyebrows climb. “Kristen? As in the baby in your arms? As in six months old?”

“Seven.”

“What?”

“She’s seven months old.”

Marco couldn’t quite grasp the importance of that distinction, but he supposed he could humor his friend. “I could watch her for an hour or two.”

Brian bit his lip. “Well, see, that’s the problem. I need you to keep her for the weekend. Actually, I kind of already told Val you would.”

The shock momentarily robbed Marco of speech. “The entire weekend?”

“My back’s to the wall here, buddy. Val and I have plans to spend the weekend together at a bed and breakfast in Maryland. We need the time alone to try and patch up our marriage. We had a baby-sitter all lined up, but a family emergency forced her to cancel at the last minute. I’ve called everyone on my Rolodex. No one is available.”

“But me.”

“But you,” Brian confirmed.

“I don’t know anything about taking care of babies, Bri.”

“You’re a doctor, Marco.”

Marco spread his arms. “So?”

“So, you should know all about babies.”

“And you of all people should know that what my being a doctor means is that, in medical school, they taught me how to deliver a baby. They taught me how to examine one medically. They never touched on day-to-day care. Perhaps, being a pediatrician yourself, you’ve forgotten all that.”

“You’re an uncle,” Brian said. “Surely you’ve been around babies.”

“I am, and I have. But my brother Roberto had his kids when I was in medical school, so I didn’t pay all that much attention. And the only time I hold my sister, Kate’s, baby is when she’s happy and gurgling. The minute she starts crying, I hand her back.”

“There’s nothing to it,” Brian assured him. “Kristen’s a good baby. All you have to do is feed her, change her diaper and keep an eye on her when she’s crawling around, so she doesn’t get into trouble.”

Marco felt his lips twist. “Really? Is that all?”

Brian tossed a quick glance over Marco’s shoulder, and his voice took on a new urgency. “Val’s coming. Please, Marco. I’m begging you. This might be the last chance I have to convince her that we can make our marriage work.”

Marco heaved a weary sigh. Brian was his best friend. And he truly did seem desperate.

“Okay. I’ll watch her. But only if you think I can really do the job.”

Relief filled Brian’s eyes. “You can do it. I have faith in you. Thanks, Marco. I owe you big-time.”

“Don’t think I’m going to let you forget it, either.”

Val breezed through the door. “Sure you really want to do this?” she asked, depositing what looked like enough gear to furnish a small room on his living room floor.

“I wouldn’t have volunteered, if I didn’t,” he replied.

Raising up on tiptoe, she kissed him warmly on the cheek, then moved to take Kristen from Brian. Her voice was noticeably cooler when she spoke to her husband.

“Could you bring in the car seat, the portable crib and the swing from the porch? I need to go over a few things with Marco before we leave.”

With a nod Brian disappeared outside. When Val turned to face Marco, her smile seemed forced. The strain was taking its toll on her, he realized, noticing for the first time how thin she’d grown.

“Diapers and clothing are in the diaper bag,” Val instructed, “along with the phone number where you can reach us in event of emergency. Formula, baby food and bottles are in the brown bag, toys in the blue. Kristen takes a bottle every four hours and a jar of baby food at mealtime. You can heat the bottle in the microwave, as long as you test it first, but the baby food is okay at room temperature. If she gets fussy, just put her in her swing, and she usually calms down right away.”

Having deposited the items she’d asked for behind the sofa, Brian moved to his wife’s side and ran a hand down her arm. Marco almost winced when Val flinched away from the caress.

“It’s time to go, honey,” Brian said firmly.

Val bit her lip, then gave her daughter a final hug and kissed her on the forehead. “You be a good baby for Marco, okay?”

“She’s going to be a sweetheart, aren’t you?” Brian said, taking Kristen from Val and handing her to Marco.

“She really likes it when you sing to her at bedtime,” Val said quickly, as, taking her by the arm, Brian dragged her into the hallway. “And she loves sleeping with her little pink pillow. Oh, and she’s crazy about stairs, so you’re really going to have to watch her around them.”

At the door she turned back, indecision written all over her face. “Maybe we shouldn’t go. This is too much to ask of you.”

“Go,” Marco said firmly. “Kristen and I will be just fine.”

“We have to go, honey,” Brian repeated. “Now.” To Marco he added, “We’ll be back around six o’clock Sunday night.”

“We’ll be here,” Marco assured him. “Have a wonderful time.”

The whole way down the sidewalk, Val kept her head turned over her shoulder and her gaze on her daughter. She looked as if she might be going to protest some more when they reached the SUV, but Brian finally coaxed her inside. After practically running to the driver’s side, he gave Marco a final wave before speeding off.

Marco closed the front door and looked down at the child in his arms. Kristen gazed unblinkingly at him for the space of ten seconds before screwing up her tiny face and wailing at the top of her lungs.

Gretchen could swear she heard a baby crying. Raising up on her elbows, she cocked her head and listened carefully. Yes, there it was again. A cry, faint but unmistakable.

It couldn’t be a baby, she told herself, shaking her head. The only family with an infant on her block were the Ericksons, and they lived five houses away. Her windows were closed, and the air-conditioning was on full blast. A baby’s cries just didn’t carry that far. No, it couldn’t be a baby.

Sinking back into the cocoon of pillows she’d piled against her headboard, Gretchen crossed her ankles and focused on the schedule she’d painstakingly filled out with all the activities she planned on accomplishing over the following week. Counting both weekends, she only had nine days, and she wanted to use her time as efficiently as possible. She had a lot of lost time to make up for. Before she found herself chained to her desk again, she wanted to experience everything she could.

A shiver of anticipation raced up her spine as she reread the list of her planned activities. She really was looking forward to doing all of the things she’d never been allowed to do as a child, or gotten around to doing as an adult. It was going to be such fun.

Tapping the lid of her pen against her teeth, she decided that she definitely needed to make room for a trip to Kennywood Park and a ride on its premier roller coaster, The Phantom’s Revenge. That was a must. It was also imperative that she walk barefoot through her local park. That should be easy to squeeze in somewhere. Her brow furrowed in concentration. Had she forgotten anything else?

The sound she’d heard earlier distracted her again, and Gretchen lowered the schedule to her lap. Sure did sound like a baby was crying somewhere.

It was probably just a pair of amorous cats out in back by the garage, she finally decided. Their cries often mimicked those of an infant. Although this particular pair of cats seemed to be enjoying themselves for an unprecedented length of time.

Gretchen felt her lips twist mockingly. It was a sorry state of affairs when the neighborhood cats’ love lives were far more exciting than her own. But then, hadn’t that always been the case?

Maybe it wouldn’t be for much longer, though. If she opened herself up to experience all that the world had to offer, who knew? She could stumble across Mr. Right tomorrow. Crazier things had happened.

The peal of her doorbell shattered a fantasy of Gretchen and a Mr. Right, who looked suspiciously like her tenant, floating together amid a shower of rose petals down an aisle toward a smiling priest. With a sigh and a rueful glance at her schedule, she shrugged into her robe and slippers. Who could be ringing her doorbell at this time of night?

As she descended the stairs, the wails that had puzzled her for the past few minutes grew in intensity. This time there was no mistaking it. This wasn’t a pair of amorous cats. The sound filling her ears was definitely a baby’s cries. Could the Ericksons be in some kind of trouble and need her help?

Rushing to the door, she flung it wide. Her mouth dropped open when she saw Marco Garibaldi on her doorstep with a squalling infant in his arms. As her gaze ran from one to the other, she couldn’t decide who looked more miserable: Marco, with his weary eyes and tousled hair, or the baby, whom, by the pink romper she wore, Gretchen assumed was a girl.

“Yours?” she asked quietly.

Marco grimaced. “A loaner.”

Gretchen continued to stare at him in bemusement. “I’ve heard of borrowing a cup of sugar. I’ve even heard of borrowing someone’s car. But I have to tell you, I’ve never heard of borrowing a baby.”

“She’s my best friend’s child. He and his wife are away for the weekend, trying to save their marriage.”

“And you volunteered to baby-sit.”

“In a roundabout way.” He looked pained. “As you can see, I’m not doing a very good job.”