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"You had a lot of stuff to consider. But now that the baby's coming...My father...He's even more excited about it than I am."
"He loves kids."
A nod as Nick dropped his gaze to his coffee cup.
"Is that it? You feel like you should give him one? A grandson?"
"Shouldn't I? Hell, what else do I give him? I'm forty-three, never left home, piss around his company pretending I'm working..." He cut himself off with a snarl of disgust. "And I can't even bother bringing him home a grandson?"
"Do you think he cares? My God, Nick, if you think your father expects you to have a son for him...Antonio would never--"
"Of course, he wouldn't. He doesn't expect anything of me. And he's never disappointed."
I leaned forward and moved my leg against his. As I opened my mouth, he moved back fast, gaze flying over my shoulder.
"Clayton's coming," he said. "Don't--"
"I wouldn't."
"And...forget I said a thing, okay?" He leaned back and made a face. "I'm just...in a mood these days. You've got enough to worry about--"
"I can always use a distraction. I won't forget it, whether you want me to or not."
I looked over my shoulder and called to Clay, "Better hurry. I've been eyeing your bagel."
Clay walked up to the table and put his hand on my shoulder. "It's yours, darling. You two divvy up my plate. I'll get more."
I smiled up at him. "Thanks. Oh, and if you could--"
"Yeah, I'll top up your coffee." He took my half-full mug, but waved off Nick's. "You're not pregnant. Get your own. You can move that table over here too. Jeremy and Antonio are on their way."
"Are they bringing Jaime?" I asked.
Clay shrugged, as if it didn't matter to him one way or the other. That was no bad reflection on Jaime. Clay might not have been particularly interested in Jaime as a person, but he didn't dislike her either, which was, with Clay, about as much as an outsider could hope for.
Jeremy did arrive with Jaime...and with news. Cholera cases were still trickling in--either unreported incidences from the original outbreak or secondary contamination.
"The hospitals are scrambling," Antonio said, "but it's under control. The problem now is convincing people of that."
"Like SARS," I said. Just a year ago, the WHO had issued an advisory against traveling to Toronto after the outbreak had been contained, and the city was still reeling from the effects.
"The memory of SARS only serves to magnify the panic," Jeremy said. "As with that Walkerton water contamination case. People are understandably nervous and, apparently, many have decided to squeeze in an unplanned week at the cottage."
"Traffic jams on the 400 northbound instead of south this morning, I'll bet. I'm afraid to ask: anything...new?"
Jeremy hesitated, as if as reluctant to say anything as I was to hear it. "Reports in two papers about an outbreak of rat bites in the downtown area, but it pales in comparison with the water contamination problems."
"So far," I muttered. "Any signs of things spreading beyond Toronto?"
He shook his head. "Everything appears to be contained to the city, and primarily the core."
"It's likely to stay that way too," Jaime said, her first words since we exchanged good mornings. "The effects are usually localized."
"So--"
The ring of my cell phone cut me off. An unfamiliar local number appeared in the display.
"Shanahan?" Nick mouthed.
