Fine things (14 page)

“I don't know, sweetheart. I hope so. I'm getting pretty tired of being fat.” They exchanged a smile as they walked hand in hand.

“You don't look so bad. Kathy's mom looked terrible. Her face got all fat like a pig”—she distorted her face and Liz laughed—“and she got all these blue things in her legs.”

“Varicose veins.” She was lucky, she had never gotten them.

“It must be horrible, having a baby, huh?”

“No, it's not. It's beautiful. I don't know, afterwards it's all worth it. You forget all this yucky stuff, and it's really not so bad. If you have a baby with a man you love, then it's the nicest thing in the world.”

“Did you love my daddy too?” She looked worried and it was odd that she should ask the question today, when Chandler Scott had called after all these years, and Liz was reminded of how much she had hated him. But she couldn't tell Jane that now, and wondered if she ever would. It might affect the way she saw herself, Liz thought.

“Yes, I did. Very much, in fact.”

“How did he die?” It was the first time Jane had asked her that, and she wondered if she had heard something that afternoon. Liz fervently hoped not.

“He died in an accident.”

“A car accident?”

It seemed as reasonable as anything else. “Yes. He was killed instantly. He didn't suffer at all.” She thought that might be important to her and it was.

“I'm glad. It must have been very sad for you.”

“It was,” Liz lied.

“How old was I?” They were almost home and Liz was so out of breath she could hardly talk.

“Just a few months old, sweetheart.” They swung up the front steps and she unlocked the door with her key, and inside she sat down at the kitchen table, while Jane put the flowers in a vase for Bernie and looked at her mother with a happy smile.

“I'm so glad you married Daddy. Now I have a daddy again.”

“I'm glad too.” And he's a hell of a lot better than the other one.

Jane took the flowers into the other room, and Liz started cooking dinner for them. She still insisted on making dinner every night, baking bread, making everyone's favorite desserts. She wasn't sure what she'd feel like after the baby came, or how busy she would be, and it was easier to spoil them now. She made a point of it every day, and Bernie looked forward to coming home and eating the treats that she had made for them. He had gained ten pounds himself, and laughingly blamed it on the pregnancy.

He came home early that night, made a big fuss over them both, thanked Jane for the flowers, and only appeared as worried as he was when he and Liz were alone after Jane had gone to bed. He had refused to discuss the subject before, for fear the child would overhear what they said. And now he closed their bedroom door, and Jane's, and turned their television on, so she couldn't hear them talk, and then he turned to Liz with troubled eyes.

“Peabody, our attorney for the store, recommended a guy to me. His name is Grossman, and I talked to him this afternoon.” He also trusted him because he was from New York and had gone to Columbia Law School. “He says this thing's not good. The guy has rights.”

“He does?” Liz looked shocked as she sat uncomfortably at the foot of their bed. She felt out of breath again. She was really miserable. “After all these years? How is that possible?”

“Because the laws are very liberal in this state, that's why.” He was sorrier than ever that Berman hadn't moved him home to New York before this. “Apparently, if I'd adopted her by now it would be too late for him. But I didn't. That was my mistake. I didn't think we had to bother with the legalities, as long as she was using my name anyway.” And now he could have kicked himself, after what the attorney had said.

“But what about the fact that he abandoned her …abandoned us, for chrissake?”

“That might actually win the case for us, but the problem is, that isn't automatic. That depends on the judge, and it would have to become a 'case' and the judge would have to decide how he felt about the abandonment. If we win, great. And if we don't, we can appeal his decision. But in the interim, and even before this thing would get to court for the first round, which could take a while, they would give him temporary visitation, just to be 'fair' to him.”

“The man's a jailbird, for chrissake, a con man, a snake.” He had never seen Liz so worked up before. She looked as though she hated the man, and he knew she had good reason to. He was beginning to hate him himself. “They'd expose a child to him?”

“Apparently, yes. The assumption is that the natural father is a good guy until proven otherwise. So first they'd let him visit Jane, then we'd go to court to fight it out, and then we win or lose. But in the meantime, we'd have to explain to her who he is, why he's visiting her, and how we feel about it.” They both looked horrified, as horrified as he had felt when he spoke to the attorney that afternoon. He decided to tell her all of it. “And Grossman says that there's a good chance we wouldn't win. This state is extremely in favor of father's rights, and the judge could be sympathetic to him, no matter how big a sonofabitch we think he is. The theory seems to be that fathers have rights, no matter what, unless maybe they beat their kids or something like that. And even if they do that, apparently provisions are made to protect the child but still allow the abusive parent to see the child. Isn't that encouraging?” He was so angry he had gone at it full force, and suddenly as Liz started to cry, he realized how foolish he had been. She was in no condition to face the possibility of all that. “Oh baby, I'm sorry. … I never should have told you all that.”

“I have to know it if it's true,” she sobbed. “Isn't there anything we can do to get rid of him?”

“Yes and no. Grossman was honest with me. It's against the law to buy this guy off, but it's been done before. And he suspects that's all he wants. After seven years, it's not very likely that he's interested in teaching Jane to ride a bicycle. I think probably he just wants a few bucks to tide him over till he winds up in jail again. The only trouble is, if we do that, he may turn up again, and again, and again. It could be a bottomless pit.” But for the moment, he was tempted to try it at least once, and maybe that would get rid of him for good. He had thought about it on the way home, and was willing to give him ten thousand bucks to get out of their lives. He would have given him more than that, but he was afraid if he gave him too much, it would whet his appetite. He said as much to Liz and she agreed with him.

“Shall we give him a call?” She wanted to get it over with, and the contractions were driving her nuts tonight. She could feel her heart race as she handed Bernie the paper she'd written Chandler's number on.

“I want to talk to him myself. And I want you to stay out of it. For all you know, this is just a ploy to catch your attention again, and the less satisfaction he gets, the better off you'll be.” It made sense to her, and she was happy to let Bernie handle all of it.

The phone rang at the other end, and Bernard asked for Chandler Scott. They waited for what seemed a long time, and he held the receiver so Liz could listen too, as a male voice came on. He wanted to know if he had the right man, and she nodded at him and signaled that it was. Bernie took it from there.

“Mr. Scott? My name is Fine.”

“Oh?” And then he understood. “Right. You're married to Liz.”

“Correct. I understand you called this afternoon, about a business deal.” Grossman told him not to mention the child or what the money was for, in case Scott was recording him. “I have the results on that for you now.”

Scott was quick to understand. He liked a man who didn't mess around, although it had been fun talking to Liz again. “Do you think we should all meet to talk it out?” He was talking in the same veiled terms as Bernard, afraid of the police perhaps. God only knew what he was into now, Liz thought.

“I don't think that's necessary. My client has come up with a price for you. Ten thousand, for the whole package. One time only, for your previous services. I believe they want to buy you out.” The meaning of that was clear to all three of them, and there was a long silence at the other end.

“Do I have to sign anything?” He sounded cautious.

“That won't be necessary.” Bernie would have liked that but Grossman had already told him it wouldn't be worth the paper it was written on.

He came right to the point, and he sounded hungry to Bernie. “How do I get it?” In a brown paper bag at the bus station, Bernie almost laughed, except it wasn't funny. And he wanted to get rid of the sonofabitch as soon as he could, for all their sakes, especially Liz, who did not need the heartache right before the birth of their baby.

“I'll be happy to meet you with it.”

“In cash?”

“Of course.” Bastard. All he wanted was the money. He didn't give a damn about Jane. He never had, just as Liz had told Bernie.

“I'll be happy to give it to you tomorrow.”

“Where do you live?” At least their address was not listed in the phone directory, and Bernie was suddenly glad they had done that. And he was equally reluctant to meet him at his office. He wanted to meet him in a bar, or a restaurant, or a doorway. It was beginning to feel like a sleazy movie. But he was trying to think of where to tell him he would meet him.

“I'll meet you at Harry's, on Union Street, at lunchtime. Noon.” His bank was only half a block away, and he could give him the money and then come home to check on Liz.

“Great.” Chandler Scott sounded delighted and as though he didn't have a care in the world. “See you tomorrow.” He hung up quickly and Bernie turned to Liz.

“He'll take it.”

“Do you think that's all he wants?”

“For now. I think to him that's a hell of a lot of money, and right now he can't see beyond it. The only problem with this, as Grossman says, is that he can come back at us again, but we'll just have to face that when he does.” He couldn't afford to have it become a monthly arrangement. “With any luck, we'll be living in New York when he gets hungry again, and he'll never find us. I think next time we'll skip informing your ex-landlady when we move, or maybe you should just tell her not to give out any information.” Liz nodded. And Bernie was right, once they were in New York, Chandler probably wouldn't be able to find them. “I didn't want to meet him at the store, because then he'd always know how to find us.” She looked up at him with grateful eyes and shook her head.

“I'm so sorry I got you into this, sweetheart. I promise I'll pay you back when I save up the money.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” He put an arm around her. “This is just one of those things and we'll get it all cleaned up tomorrow.”

She looked at him with sad, serious eyes, remembering the pain Chandler Scott had caused her, and then she felt a tremor run through her and she reached a hand out to Bernie. “Will you promise me something?”

“Anything you like.” He had never loved her more, as he sat looking down at her with her enormous belly.

“If anything ever happens to me, will you protect Jane from him?” Her eyes were huge in her face and he frowned at her.

“Don't say things like that.” He was Jewish enough to be superstitious, not as much so as his mother, but enough. “Nothing's going to happen to you.” Although the doctor had warned him that women sometimes got unusually fearful, or even morbid just before they gave birth. Maybe that meant the baby would come soon.

“But will you promise? I never want him to get near her. Swear to me …” She was getting agitated and he promised.

“I love her like my own, you know that. You don't ever have to worry.” But she had nightmares as she lay in his arms that night, and he was nervous himself as he went to Harry's to meet Scott with an envelope with one hundred hundred-dollar bills in it. Liz had told him to look for a tall, thin, golden-haired man. She warned him that he might not look like anyone he might expect to meet for this purpose.

“He looks more like you'd expect to see him on a yacht or as though you'd love to introduce him to your baby sister.”

“That's terrific. I'll probably walk up to some normal guy, hand him the envelope and he'll punch me … or worse yet, take it and run.”

But as he stood at the bar at Harry's, feeling faintly like a Russian spy on a mission, watching the lunch crowd arrive, he saw him immediately as he walked in. As Liz had said, he looked handsome and jaunty. He was wearing a blazer and gray slacks, but when one looked more closely, the blazer was cheap, the shirt cuffs were frayed, and his shoes were all but worn out. His con man suit was in serious disrepair, and he looked like an aging preppie down on his luck as he walked to the bar and ordered a Scotch straight up, and held it with a trembling hand, eyeing the crowd. Bernie had not told him what he looked like, so he had the advantage. And he was almost certain this was his man. He watched Scott chat with the bartender. He said he had just returned from Arizona, and after a few more minutes and half his drink, he heard him admit that he'd been in prison there. He shrugged with a boyish smile.

“Screw 'em if they can't take a joke…. Hell, I passed a few bad checks, and the judge went nuts. It's good to be back in California.” It was a sad commentary on the state's laws, and once again Bernie was sorry they weren't back in New York, as he finally decided to approach him.

“Mr. Scott?” He spoke in a quiet voice, and slid discreetly next to Chandler as he stood with his second drink in his hand. And he was obviously very nervous. At close range, he had the same blue eyes as Jane, but so did Liz, so it was difficult to say whose eyes Jane had inherited. He had a handsome face, but he looked older than his twenty-nine years. He had thick blond hair which fell over one eye, and he could easily see how Liz might have fallen for him. He had that innocent boyish air, which had made it easy for him to rip people off, and convince them to invest in his bunko schemes. He had been kidding people ever since he was eighteen, and his frequent arrests didn't seem to stop him. But he still had the naive look of a midwestern kid, and one could see how he might have tried to give himself the aura of the country club at one time, though he appeared to be down on his luck now, and he looked at Bernie with nervous, hungry eyes the moment he spoke.