Who's The Daddy?

“Trying to decide which outfit is my most killer one.”

“Killer?” Mrs. Lamb’s face was a perfect picture of puzzlement.

“Don’t worry. I’m not plotting a murder. I don’t think. I’m wanting to, uh, look my best. By the way, my dinner guest is coming tomorrow night. Is that okay?”

“Sure is. Do I know him?”

“His name is Max Daniels.” Caroline studied the housekeeper’s expression, but she saw no sign of recognition. “You’ve never heard of him?”

“No. Should I have?”

“He’s one of the three… Has anyone told you I’m pregnant?”

Mrs. Lamb almost dropped the tray and Caroline rushed forward to support her.

“Oh, my stars. Are you serious? I can’t believe it. Isn’t that wonderful? You and Chelsea will have babies almost the same age. I—who’s the father?”

Mrs. Lamb’s abrupt question showed her sudden awareness of Caroline’s situation. With a self-conscious shrug, Caroline said, “I don’t know. The amnesia.”

“Well, surely he’ll come forward. I mean, a man should be responsible for his actions.”

“That’s the problem,” Caroline replied. “Three men have claimed responsibility for—for my baby.”

“Three? Oh, my stars! Caroline!”

Taking the shaking tray from the housekeeper’s hands, Caroline set it on the lamp table. “Lambie, I need help.”

“Why, I’ll do whatever I—I don’t see how—I mean, what are you going to do?”

“I need to find out what was going on in my life two months ago.”

As if her knees had collapsed, Mrs. Lamb sank onto the bed. “Oh, my stars.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Two months ago? A little over two months ago, you had a fight with your father.”

“A fight? What about?”

“I don’t know. But the next morning, you called a taxi, and you left.”

“A taxi? I don’t have a car?”

“Of course you have a car. A Mercedes. Your father insisted, saying they were the safest. He buys you a new one every year.”

She kept her feelings about her father’s domination to herself. “Then why a taxi?”

“I don’t know. You had a bag packed and you hugged me, saying not to worry, you were going on a vacation.”

“Did I tell you where I was going?”

“No. You left a note for your father, but it didn’t tell him anything, ‘cause he questioned me.”

She had some questions for her father the next time she saw him, too. “Did I call you after I left? And how long was I gone?”

“You called once and told me you were having a good time. And you left a message for your father.”

“What message?”

Mrs. Lamb screwed up her face, as if trying to remember, and finally said, “You said you were proving him wrong.”

Caroline stared at her. “That’s it? Nothing for my mother?”

With a surprised look on her face, Mrs. Lamb said, “Why, no. You don’t—I mean, you love your mother, of course, but Mrs. Adkins is so busy…” She trailed off and looked away.

“I see. And when I came back? Did I ever say where I’d been or what I’d done?”

“No. But you seemed sad. Once I found you crying, and that’s unusual for you. Why, as a little girl, you’d fall and hurt yourself, but you’d never cry. Unlike Chelsea. Chelsea learned to shed tears whenever she wanted something. Tears just drive your father up the wall.”

Caroline could believe that. But she wanted more information about herself, not her father or her sister. “Did I explain why I was crying?”

“No.”

“Did I receive any strange phone calls? Or letters?” But she remembered Max asking for her telephone number. He wouldn’t have called her.

“No.”

“Did I date anyone after I came back?”

“You would go to social events with Adrian and Prescott. You did that before you left, too.”

“Social events?”

“You know, to the Save the Whales dinner and dance, the opera, the symphony opening night. There was a real nice picture in the paper yesterday of you and Adrian.”

“Why?” Caroline demanded, suddenly afraid she might have announced her engagement.

“You were dancing at the opera ball.”

Caroline sat down beside Mrs. Lamb, feeling a little weak herself. And her head was beginning to ache. Again.

“You’d better eat some lunch, child. You don’t look too well. And you’ve got a baby to think about now.”

Caroline smiled faintly. It was too easy to forget that she was carrying a child inside her, since she couldn’t remember the event that had brought it about. But Mrs. Lamb was right. She needed to eat.

“Let’s take the tray back downstairs. I’ve had enough eating in bed to last me awhile.”

And she needed to calm down again before she faced her father. He had some explaining to do.