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 Oh my God, Jillian. Jillian, what s wrong? She dropped her bags and the bouquet of flowers
she had been carrying and threw her arms around her sister.
 I m glad you re here, Nan, Jillian whispered.
 I am so very glad you re here.
They made some coffee, then settled on the couch in the living room, Jillian filling her sister in
on some of the stranger events of the past months. As she spoke, she kept on glancing at the
radio on the coffee table, as if it was something like a third set of ears in the room, listening to
what she was saying.
She told Nan about her bizarre encounter with Sherman Reese at the baby store.
Nan nodded. She remembered Sherman Reese. She was incredulous, though, at what he had
done.  Reese? she said.  That suit from NASA, he followed you right into the baby store?
 He wasn t a suit anymore, Nan, Jillian replied.  He was a mess. Dirty. Unshaven. He said
he had been fired by NASA, though he called it something else, a sort of bureaucratic term for
getting fired.  Separated my employment, or something like that.
 What the hell did he want with you? Nan asked indignantly.  NASA always figured it
owned people I could always feel it when I was around those guys.
 But he s not NASA anymore, said Jillian.
 They get them for life, Nan replied.  What did he want with you anyway?
Jillian took a deep breath.  He said... he said that Natalie Streck was pregnant when she died.
Nan was unimpressed.  Now just how in the hell would he know something like that?
 He said he had seen the autopsy. He said that she must have gotten pregnant right after Alex
came back. You know, after he and Spencer had their... incident.
 I know, Nan said as she folded her arms across her chest.  What else did Reese have to tell
you?
Jillian shrugged and looked away, glancing at the radio as she did so. She could not bring
herself to say any more. She could not tell her sister about the tape and Reese s suspicions that
Spencer was a changed man, possibly a completely different man.
Nan read the fear in her sister s face.  Oh, Jilly, she said,  a little freak like that is the last
thing you need to worry about. If I were you I would just have Spencer call some of his 
Jillian cut her off sharply.  No. No, don t tell Spencer I saw this. I don t want him to know.
 But, Jillian, Nan protested,  you yourself said he looked crazy. He might try something
crazy.
Jillian just shook her head.  You have to promise me, Nan. Promise you won t tell Spencer.
 You can t keep these things bottled up inside you, said Nan firmly.  Carrying a baby
requires a completely stress-free existence. Even I know that.
 And telling Spencer about Reese will up the stress levels around here into the danger zone,
Jillian countered.  Don t you see? You re right, that freak is the last thing I need. But if Spencer
knows
about it it ll become a whole big thing. You know how men are, they have to do the masculine
thing and protect hearth and home .. .
 What s wrong with that? Nan asked.  I think it s nice and old-fashioned.
 Well, it s pretty stupid if there hasn t been a threat to either hearth or home, said Jillian. She
smiled at Nan.  Look, if Reese bothers me again, then I ll tell Spencer about it. Okay? Deal?
Nan relented and threw her arms around her sister's neck and hugged her.  Sure, July,
whatever you want. I have missed you so much, Jillian. Too much.
 And I ve missed you, Nan. A sad look came across her face like a light squall.  I wish Mom
and Dad were still here. There are so many things I want to ask Mom.
Nan forced herself to sound cheerful.  Well, I m here. Anything you want, just ask. You want
me to go and get you a big dish of pickles and ice cream, Jilly, just say the word.
Jillian smiled softly. She glanced at the radio.  I m okay, right now, Nan.
 You want anything? Nan persisted.  Some music, said Jillian.  Just, um, turn on the radio,
okay, Nan? I wouldn t mind hearing some music.
 Music? said Nan.  That s great. You want me to put in a CD. I got a bunch in my pack.
Heavy metal German music? It s really cool. I think it s going to be the next big thing.
Jillian shook her head.  No, please, Nan. Just the radio that will be fine.
Nan shrugged and turned on the radio, soft music of the easy-listening variety came out of the
speaker.
 Is this okay? Nan asked. It certainly wasn t music suited to her tastes.
Jillian nodded yes and closed her eyes...
That night Spencer insisted on taking Jillian and Nan out to dinner at one of the more chic
downtown restaurants, a place at which Spencer knew he could get a table merely by having his
secretary call up the maitre d and mentioning Jackson McLaren s name. That got them on the
list and assured them a table but it was almost impossible to get a table at one of these places
on time. The maitre d invited them to have a drink and said that they would have their table
shortly.
There was quite a press of people at the bar, but Spencer managed to elbow his way through
the throng and score a drink order without too much trouble.
He passed out the drinks.  Champagne for you, Nan, he said, passing her a flute of golden
liquid.  And apple juice for you, Jillian. He handed over a tall glass with ice.
 Thank you, said Jillian taking her drink from Spencer.
 Apple juice? said Nan.  That looks suspiciously like a bourbon and water to me.
 It might look like bourbon but it is one hundred
percent natural apple juice, said Spencer.  Well, for your information we are having a
uncontaminated pregnancy.
 So what s that in your glass, Spaceman.
Spencer smiled.  It s a glass of very pure champagne, he said. He raised his glass.  Welcome
to New York City, Nan.
 Thank you, Spaceman, said Nan.
Jillian said nothing. They all sipped, Spencer watched as Jillian drank her juice.
The head waiter approached diffidently.  Mr. Armacost, your table is ready, he said.
It was a good table, a circular booth in the front of the room, a good place to watch the crowd. It
was
plain that Nan was thrilled to be in a chic New York restaurant and that Spencer was having a
good time, too. Jillian was silent, wrapped up in her own thoughts and worries. She let Spencer
and Nan spar and flirt and make fun of the other tragically hip patrons in the restaurant.
 So there s no one here that catches your fancy, said Spencer after they had surveyed the
men standing at the bar.
 Nope, said Nan.
 Well, I guess that s okay, Spencer replied.  You have your man down in Florida. What s his
name? Steve? Sean? Wasn t it something like that?
Nan guffawed.  Oh. Stan. You mean Stan. Or, better known as the Grand Marshall of this
year s parade of losers. Stan s gone: Long gone. She [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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