He needed a drink.
He went to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a scotch, and then pulled himself together so that he could send out e-mails to clients he was supposed to meet with over the next week. Family emergency, he said, and offered his apologies. Gave them the name of an associate who could help them.
He was looking mindlessly at his in-box when he heard Matthew stirring in the next room. When the baby woke, he’d be hungry.
Gaynor went into the hallway and down the stairs, careful not to step on the slightly faded red footprints he’d left earlier. As he entered the kitchen he forced himself to look away from where he’d found Rosemary. Focused in on the fridge. Rosemary always prepared two days’ worth of bottles of formula, and there were still four of them in there. He warmed a bottle, wondering what he would do when these were all gone. He’d never made up bottles for Matthew. Didn’t have a clue how to do it.
He had a steep learning curve ahead of him.
God, where was Sarita when he needed her?
He had some theories in that regard. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be seeing Sarita around here anymore. The police could look for her all they wanted. Good luck with that.
But he had to find someone to replace her, soon. Before he went back to work. Someone who could come into the house, or maybe someone he could drop the baby off with in the morning.
God, the things that had to be worked out.
And a funeral. He hadn’t even thought about a funeral.
He took the warmed bottle back upstairs, entered Matthew’s room. He’d already pulled himself up, was standing at the railing. Pretty soon he’d be walking.
“Hey, little man,” he said. He lifted Matthew out of the crib, held him in one arm, and handed him the bottle with his other hand. The baby grabbed hold and shoved the rubber nipple into his mouth.
“Yeah, you eat up,” he said.
How did you explain to a baby that his mother wasn’t coming home? What could you say?
“We’re going to be okay,” he said softly. “You and me are going to be okay.”
Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Police, Gaynor thought. Maybe here to tell him they’d charged that insane woman. Gaynor considered putting Matthew back in the crib, but didn’t think he should leave the baby alone while he sucked on the bottle.
Gaynor carried Matthew downstairs and opened the front door. There was a man standing there, but Gaynor knew he wasn’t from the police department.
“Bill, I’m so sorry,” the man said. “My apologies for not getting here sooner. It’s been quite the day.”
“Jack,” Gaynor said.
“May I come in?”
“Yeah, sure, of course.”
Gaynor closed the door as Jack Sturgess came into the foyer.
“If you want a drink or something,” Gaynor said, “you can go into the kitchen and help yourself, but I just . . . I can’t go in there. I had to get this for Matthew, but . . .”
“It’s okay,” Sturgess said. “I just wanted to drop by and see how you and the baby were.”
“Matthew’s . . . okay. I’m . . . I’m just trying to figure out what I should be doing first. I don’t know where to begin. I mean, the priority is Matthew. I’ve gotta look after him, and I don’t know the first thing to do. I’ve never made up the formula before. Rose did that, and Sarita. I’ve talked to the office, and I’ve been in touch with clients, and I had these people here—there’re actually companies that do nothing but clean up after . . . God, I don’t know if I can hold it together.”
“You’ll be okay. You will be. But you’re right: The important thing is Matthew.”
Gaynor looked misty-eyed at the doctor. “You’ve always been there for us. Every step of the way. Rose, she was so grateful for everything you did.”
The doctor rested a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You all deserved happiness. And I really thought you’d found it. You didn’t deserve this.”
“I thought, when I heard the doorbell, it’d be the police. Telling me they’ve charged that woman.”
“Yes, well, that may very well happen,” the doctor said.
“I guess it’s been all over the news.”
“Pretty much,” Sturgess said.
“The detective, he called me a while ago. They know about her history. About trying to steal the baby from the hospital. They’ll nail her with this, I just know it.”
“It may never get to that,” Sturgess said.
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s in the hospital. She tried to kill herself.”
Gaynor’s mouth dropped. “You’re kidding.”
The doctor shook his head. “But . . . she wasn’t successful.”
Gaynor said. “That’s, I mean, it’s an awful thing to say, but it would almost be better if she’d succeeded.”