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“I’m sure it did. I actually got to look after a baby I found on the street thanks to my online presence, and thanks to you. So it already paid off.”
Thoughts of the baby surfaced again, the brief memory of her rooting around on my chest for something to eat, and I worried about her. I wondered if she’d been breastfed and those bottles of milk in the bag had been filled with breast milk.
My appetite disappeared when I thought about Jessie. I pushed food around my plate, sneaking the dogs begging at my feet enough food so it appeared I had eaten something.
After we finished dinner, I was going to find out the baby’s real name. Mark Spinoza surely knew. My curiosity about the mother grew. I felt the need to get involved, like once I’d been introduced to the baby the way I had, I just couldn’t turn my back.
“And by the way, since we’re clearing the air, why didn’t you tell me Ryan was Pam’s stepson? I feel like that was a major deception.”
Randy looked at me, stunned. “I just didn’t think of it, to tell you the truth.”
I didn’t believe it for a second. After I offered to help Pam clean up dinner and she refused, I went to the wing where the guest rooms were, entered my bedroom, and locked the door. Getting out my phone, I called Mark.
“I didn’t think I’d hear from you again,” he said. “It felt pretty final.”
“I’m sorry. My imagination might be getting the best of me here, but I didn’t want any romantic involvement.”
“No, you picked up the right vibe from me.” I could hear him breathing. “How about friends?”
“I can do friendship. As a matter of fact, friendship is just fine.”
“Okay, well, let’s be friends. What’s next in your life?”
I told him about my job at the medical center starting Tuesday.
“That’s a big switch from TV personality,” he said.
“I hope I can live that down,” I said, flaring my nostrils. I was glad he couldn’t see me. “Anyway, I’m out on the island with my father, and I suddenly wondered if you knew what the baby’s real name is.”
“It should be easy enough for me to find out,” he said. “Hold on.” I heard keystrokes on a computer keyboard. “Here you go. Yasmine Simon.”
“Oh, that’s so pretty. Do you have any information about the mother?”
He paused for a few seconds. “What are you planning?”
“Nothing. Not yet, anyway. I had a feeling that I found the baby for a reason. That’s all. That it wasn’t a fluke.”
“I know that feeling, Laura, and it usually leads to a dead end.” I didn’t reply and, in a moment, he spoke again. “Do you have a pen and paper?”
I could tell he was reluctant, but he gave me the name and address of Yasmine’s mother. She lived in the Lower East Side. I looked at the address and thought about baby Yasmine. I would try to see her Monday.
“Thank you, Mark. I promise not to cause trouble.”
“I’m not worried about that. Will you call me when you get back into the city? I’d like to take you out on a friendship date.”
I laughed and said I’d see about that. I wasn’t getting involved with Mark Spinoza. After ending the call, I repeated it, as a sort of chant. I am not getting involved with Mike Spinoza.
It was early, but I wanted to go to sleep and was just reaching for the lamp switch next to my bed when there was a knock on my window. I got up, knowing who it was without even looking. Moving the curtain aside, I saw Ryan’s face pressed against the window.
“What the hell do you want?”
“Slide the window open and let me in,” he said.
“No, Ryan. Go away, for God’s sake.”
I let the curtain fall back, but not without making sure I’d locked the window first.
***
