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Somewhat reluctantly, the proprietress of the lobby newsstand, an obese harridan with orange hair, changed two dollars into silver for her. Susan found an empty telephone booth and went in.
Jennifer answered on the second ring. Her voice seemed hesitant.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“That didn’t take long.”
“I hurried. What’s up?”
“Are you planning to come this way anytime soon?”
“I hadn’t planned on it,” Susan said.
But I could. Daffy asked me please, please come to her husband’s birthday party.
“I’d really like to see you,” Jennie said.
“And I’d like to see the baby,” Susan said.
“Bryan has something he wants you to keep for him. For us,” Jennie said.
So that’s what this is all about. Damn him!
Bryan was Bryan Chenowith.
If I had a file on him, he would be categorized as “Father of (illegitimate) child, residing with mother. Employable, but not employed.”
“How’s the baby?” Susan asked.
“Wonderful!” Jennie said, her voice reflecting the pride of the new mother.
“I can’t wait to see him,” Susan said.
“Then you can come?”
“Daffy’s having a birthday party for Chad,” Susan said. “On Saturday. She’s called me twice, begging me to come. You know what I think of him.”
“Is it too late to change your mind?” Jennie asked, a hint of desperation in her voice. “Philadelphia’s not far from here.”
“I could call her,” Susan said.
“In for a penny. In for a pound,” as they say.
“That’s a ‘yes’?”
“I want to see the baby,” Susan said, as much to herself as to Jennie.
“Will you stay with Daffy?”
“No,” Susan said. “Probably the Bellvue.”
“You’ll drive down Saturday morning?”
“Right.”>
“I’ll call the hotel and tell you when and where to meet me,” Jennie said.
