“It’s a boy?”

“Yes.”

There was a long silence.

“Heath, are you still there?”

“I wonder what he’ll look like.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Joan said, and hung up the phone.

Heath was left with the dial tone blaring in his ear.

* * * *

“Well, here I am, with boiling water,” Amy said, sticking her suitcase through the door and then stepping over it. “Should I don the rubber gloves now?”

“Take it easy, Amy, nothing is happening yet.”

“What a disappointment. I take my vacation time to spend it with you in your hour of need, and you’re just standing there, looking like the fat lady in the circus.”

“Thanks.”

Amy patted Ann’s chubby cheek. “Only kidding.”

“It’s a sensitive subject. I’ve gained thirty-five pounds.”

“Good! You were too skinny.”

“I’d defy anybody to say that now.”

Amy put her suitcase on the sofa and unlocked it, producing a triplicate box of rubber pants, infant size.

“Did I come prepared?” she said, raising one brow.

“I’m impressed.”

Amy, looking slim and tanned in shorts and a halter top, sat back on the sofa and tucked her legs under her.

“Why do they always talk about boiling water for the childbirth scenes in those old movies?” Amy inquired. What the hell is it for, anyway?”

“Damned if I know,” Ann replied. “Sterilization?”

Amy shrugged. Seriously, kiddo, how are you feeling?” she asked.

“Huge.”

“What does your doctor say?”

“She says that everything seems fine and I should be able to have a natural, successful labor.”

“Good.” Amy bit her lip, opened her mouth, then closed it again abruptly.

“Go ahead. You can ask,” Ann said.

“Have you heard from him?”

“Just through the lawyer, Caldwell. Have you seen him in Florida?”

“On television.”

“On television?” Ann asked.

“Some charity drive. I feel like telling him that charity begins at home.”

Ann held up her hand to forestall the commentary. “I know, I know. But I want to ask you a favor.”

“Shoot.”

“Will you call him when the baby’s born? He’ll want to know and there’s really nobody else I trust who’ll be on the scene.”

“What about Tim?”

“He’s under house arrest until he completes his twelve-step program.”

“If I talk to Heath, I can’t promise civility.”

“Amy, be nice.”

“Why? Has Heath been nice?”

“This is a circular argument, Amy, and it’s giving me more indigestion than I already have. Just call him, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now let’s talk about something else.”

“Have you picked out any boy’s names you like?” Amy inquired brightly.

“No. I guess I’m superstitious. I want to make sure the baby’s all right before I even think about names.”

Amy got up and pressed Ann’s hand warmly. “The baby will be all right,” she said. “But I think that now we should move on to the really important discussion, the one that concerns my dinner date last Friday night.”

“Who is he?”

“The personnel V.P.”

“At your company? Uh-oh.”

“We’re keeping it a secret.”

“Good luck. He’s not married?”

“Newly divorced.”

“How newly?”

“The decree was final three weeks ago.”

“Oh, Amy, you’d better be careful.”

“Don’t you want to hear about the date?”

“Sure,” Ann said. She sat and propped her feet up on a hassock, noting the degree of swelling in her ankles.

Not too bad but it was still early in the day.

Ann folded her hands over her protruding belly and settled in to listen.

* * * *

Three days later, at 2:00 a.m., Ann struggled off her bed and waddled out into the living room, where Amy was sleeping on the foldout sofa.

“Amy, wake up!” Ann said, shaking her friend’s shoulder aggressively.

Amy sat up, her hair over one eye.

“Wassa madda?” she mumbled.

“My water broke,” Ann said.

“Wassitmean?”

“It means I have to get to the hospital right now. Will you call a cab while I get dressed?”

Amy stumbled to her feet and then into the kitchen, where she splashed cold water on her face and then returned, looking more alert but somewhat alarmed.

“Where’s the number?” she asked.

“On the pad by the phone.”

“I guess this is really happening,” she said as Ann returned to the bedroom.

I guess it really is, Ann thought, and went to the closet for her clothes.

 * * * *

“He is just beautiful,” Amy said to Joan, beaming, peering into the isolette as she stood next to the Jensens. The baby responded by opening his mouth in a toothless yawn and beating the air with two tiny red fists.

“You know who he looks like,” Joan said.

“Like Heath with blue eyes,” Amy replied.

“They all have blue eyes at the beginning.”

“His will stay blue. He has Ann’s eyes.” Amy looked over at Joe. “I can’t believe you got here before Heath.”

“We were here for the weekend to see Joan’s sister.”

“Did you call him?” Joan asked Amy.

Amy nodded.

“What did he say?”

“He didn’t say anything. He was already gone. His secretary told me that he had planned to be here for the due date.”

“Then he should be walking through that door any minute,” Joe observed.

The elevator doors parted and Heath stepped into the hall, carrying a large armload of roses wrapped in a florist’s green waxed paper.

“You could make money with your psychic powers,” Amy said to Joe.

“Remember that we all promised to be pleasant,” Joan said archly.

Heath looked at the little group standing at the nursery window and hesitated, then took a deep breath. He was wearing light summer slacks and a pale yellow polo shirt that emphasized his dark good looks. He walked up beside Amy and stood looking at the little plastic carrier with “Bodine” written on the I.D. card. He didn’t say a word but Amy watched his eyes fill with tears. He bent his head as they ran silently down his face.

Amy felt her hostility toward him drain away, to be replaced by an almost reluctant compassion. She looked significantly at Joan, who took Joe’s arm and steered her husband away from the nursery and back toward the nurses’ station.

“I wanted to be here for the birth,” Heath finally said. His voice sounded congested, like he had a cold.

“You just missed it. She was a little early.”

“Is Ann all right?”

“She’s fine.”

“And the baby?”

“Perfect.”

Heath closed his eyes, his carved profile a study in regret. “I don’t deserve either of them.”

Amy found herself patting his arm. No wonder Ann couldn’t stay angry with him.

“I want to see Ann,” he said.

“She’s still sleeping.”

“Then I’ll wait.” He looked around him restlessly for the visitors’ lounge.

“The waiting room is just down the hall,” Amy said. “I’ll show you.”

He followed her to the sterile cubicle, which had a gray and white tiled floor and plastic gray and blue chairs. Heath sat in one of them and stared at the floor, still clutching the flowers.

“Should I take those?” Amy asked. “I’ll get someone to put them in water.”

He handed them to her.

“Was she in a lot of pain?” he asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“I’ve heard labor is very painful,” he said.

“Most women seem to survive it.”

He wasn’t listening.

“I think I’ll just go see the Jensens. We were about to leave for lunch when you arrived. Do you want to join us?”

Heath didn’t answer.

“Heath?”

He looted up, startled.

“Lunch?”

He shook his head. “I’ll stay here.”

Amy gave up and found the Jensens, who were lingering near the nurses’ station.

“Let’s go. He’s in another world. I don’t think he’ll be focusing on anything until he sees Ann.”

“Should I go talk to him?” Joe asked.

“I think it’s better to leave him alone, Joe. It’s obvious that he has a lot on his mind.”