Jake Salomon cocked one eyebrow and grinned down at her. "Little one, you can't embarrass me that easily. If Bob is the baby-cotcher you want, I'll do my best to persuade him... as long as you don't mind Bob's wife being around."

"Pooh to you, sir. If you and Winnie want to stroll down memory's lane, I'll tuck you in and kiss you good-night. She's certain to console you while I'm benched—and you'll need it."

"Thereby giving you carte blanche later. A woman almost always falls in love with the doctor who delivers her

first baby."

"Pooh again. I've loved Roberto a long time and you know it. Are you jealous, Jacob?"

"No. Just curious. I suppose that injunction you laid on me on our wedding day still applies? It occurs to me that, with respect to the day you mentioned, Bob had opportunity before, during, and after."

"Is that all it takes, dear? Just opportunity?" (Just about, twin!) She grinned at him and wrinkled her nose. "Sweetheart, all I will admit is the possibility that Roberto's name might be in the hat. But it could have been Finchley. Or Hubert. Or dear Judge Mac. You and Alec were awfully busy that day—but I think you'll find that Mac adjourned court at his usual hour...and I wasn't home until much later."

"Is that a confession?"

"Well, there might be a confession in there somewhere."

"Quit pulling my leg, my love. There are only two sorts of wives. Those who cheat, and those who have their husbands' friendly cooperation, in which case-"

"Isn't there a third sort?"

"Eh? Oh, you mean faithful wives. Oh, certainly. So I've heard. But in my twenty years of general practice, much of it divorce cases, I encountered so few of that sort—none I felt certain about—that I cannot venture an opinion. Wives technically faithful form so small a part of the sample that I can't evaluate them. People being what they are, a rational man should be satisfied if his meals are on time and his dignity not affronted. What I was trying to say is, that if you ever want my friendly cooperation, don't assault my credibility with a wet firecracker such as Hubert. Judge Mac I could believe. Tom Finchley is a very masculine person too, and one who bathes regularly—even though he sometimes abuses the sacred English tongue in a manner which causes me to flinch. Bob Garcia shows your good taste. But, please, darling, don't expect me to believe that Hubert's name could be in the hat." (Twin, Jake knows us too well. Better not try to fool him too much.) (Ever hear of a ‘red herring,' love?)

"Very well, sir; I'll take Hubert's name out of the hat. That still leaves endless possibilities, does it not? And I will try always to respect your dignity. But, speaking of meals on time, I had better get busy or your dinner will be late."

"Why not just cold cuts and such when we feel like it and heat a tin of soup? I was thinking of a nap."

"Shall I join you, sir?"

"I said ‘nap,' sweetheart. Sleep. A nap with you is not restful. Old Señor Jacob needs-a Siesta."

"Yes, sir. May 1 finish quickly what I was saying? We can take care of anyone who wants to retire, or wants another job, or wishes to stay on with Hugo. But I am hoping that some of them might come with us as crew in our trimaran or whatever. Especially if they've been to sea before and know something about it."

"Finchley does. He was sent up for smuggling or some such."

"I was hoping that all of my mobiles except Hugo—and Rockford, if you want him—might decide to sail with us. They are all strong and able, and not much family problem. Fred's wife split some months back, Dabrowski has no children at home, and Olga might be willing to be a chambermaid—stewardess, I should say—if she likes to sail; she's insisted on doing most of the cleaning and such here even though she doesn't have to. As for the Finchleys, Tom is just what we need—It wasn't smuggling drugs; they were running arms into Central America as I recall, and he was first mate—and Hester Finchley is a good cook. Eve is no problem, she already knows how to read and write and do arithmetic—and if they tell her about this, she'll be teasing her parents to take the job; all kids want to travel. Dear? If you are going in, would you see who's on guard at the lift, and ask him to dig out Finchley? He may know something about trimarans."

"I think he has the watch now. Shall I chuck you a robe?"

"Am I getting too much sun? Doesn't feel so; I've been using the lotion. Oh! You mean for Thomas the Tom Cat? But, dear, we've been swimming with him and his family every day. As well as with Fred and the Dabrowskis."

"I don't give a hoot, dear, but I thought you were anxious to preserve appearances."

"Seems silly when I swim and sunbathe with all of them. As for appearances, didn't I see you patting Hester's bottom in the pool yesterday? Or was it Wednesday?"

"It was Tuesday and it wasn't Hester, it was her daughter Eve. Just practicing to be a sex maniac, Beautiful—nothing serious. So don't be jealous."

"Beloved, the day I'm jealous of a little girl I want you to beat me. Not spank me. Beat some sense into me, woodshed style. But it was Hester, not her daughter. My gallant, wonderful Jacob would never bother a little- girl."

"Perhaps not but that little girl bothers the hell out of me. Furthermore she does it on purpose."

"Poor Jake. Even thirteen-year-olds won't leave him alone. I'm not surprised; I didn't leave him alone, either."

"In this case, she's thirteen-going-on-twenty-one. I'll make you a deal, dearest. I'll carefully avoid chaperoning you with her father if you will be very careful always to chaperon me with his daughter."

"Yes, sir. To hear is to obey, my lord—though I am chagrined that you think I might need chaperoning—or not chaperoning, as the case may be-with one of our servants. But how about Hester? Must I always be sure to be in sight when she's around?"

"Mind your own business, wench. Uh, no need to be fanatical about it. I want them all to feel easy when they come up here to swim as I don't want any of our household ever to swim in that sewage down there. You know the coliform count in that beautiful surf. That was the deal we offered—stay off the beaches entirely and they could swim in our pool at any time. So we sacrifice a little privacy but don't have one of them picking up amebiasis or such and spreading it through our whole family. It evens out—and they are all nice people...even our precocious Eve who's doing her best to see if she can upset me."

"I haven't minded, Jacob; it is not good to be too much alone. But we were speaking of Hester's bottom. Shapely, huh?"

"Hon, you're as bad as Eve. I'm going to go and say ten Money Hums and catch that siesta. I'll send out Tom. Don't let me sleep more than an hour. Kiss."

She turned her face up. As he left she dived in, swam a couple of lengths and climbed out, was waiting, staring down at the yacht harbor when Finchley arrived. "You sent for me, Ma'am?"

She smiled. "Thomas Cattus, that's not my name when we're alone."

He glanced over his shoulder, said almost soundlessly, "Pussy Cat, the Boss is awake."

"So he is. But he's gone to his room and closed the door. Siesta. He'll be asleep in almost no time. But I don't mean to scare you, Thomas Cattus dear. Come here to the rail, want to show you something. Have you done any sailing? Or has it all been power?"

"Sailing? Oh, sure, I grew up on Chesapeake Bay. Cat boats and such."

"Ever sail a trimaran?"

"Never skippered one. Crewed in one when I was sixteen."

"What do you think of them?"

"Depends on what for. Okay if you want something more like a houseboat than a racer. But I wouldn't have one without an auxiliary engine. In tight waters they can be as awkward as two people in a bathtub."