Heiress by Janet Dailey Page B

eating," he admonished as he bent down to drop a kiss on her forehead. "Doctor's orders."
    "I don't want it."
    Dean glanced at the food on the plate. "You've always liked spinach omelettes. Surely you can get down a few more bites."
    "That tastes like. . . squashed meat."
    "How about if I have Justine fix you something else?"
    Babs turned away to look out the window, but she couldn't turn far enough to hide the quivering of her lower lip. "I don't care."
    "Babs, what's wrong? This isn't like you." He sat down on the edge of the chaise and took her hand in his.
    "You don't really care," she retorted, sniffling and lifting her chin a fraction higher.
    "I certainly do" Dean frowned.
    "I know you don't love me anymore."
    "Babs—"
    "It's true. You think I haven't noticed the way you've been acting this last week. Well, I have. You've been mooning around here like—"
    Never once had Babs accused him of being unfaithful, even though, as R.D. had told him, she knew. Grateful for that, Dean tried now to ease her mind a little. "She's gone, Babs." He heard her quick little intake of breath. "She left last week. I never meant for you to be hurt. I'm sorry."
    "Then"—she gazed at him hopefully—"you're going to stay?"
    She was so vulnerable, so childlike, constantly needing assurance. How had he forgotten that? "Yes."
    "I need you so much now." She clutched at his hand, a wondrous smile breaking through the tears. "Darling. . . we’re going to have a baby."
    Babs's pregnancy was a complicated one, and toxemia had kept her bedridden for the last few months of her term. Dean managed to squeeze in two short trips to Los Angeles in the next few months to see Caroline and assure himself that all was healthy and normal for her. He didn't like the garage apartment she had rented, but Caroline insisted it was adequate for her needs and flatly refused to move into a five-room house he found. But as Babs grew closer to term, Dean was too concerned about her health to leave her, trusting that healthy and self-sufficient Caroline would somehow manage, as she claimed.
    Two weeks before Babs's due date, her doctor decided to take the baby by caesarian section. Dean sat out the operation in a private waiting room with R.D.
    The doctor walked into the waiting room, still clad in his surgical gown and cap. "It's a girl, Mr. Lawson. Five pounds ten ounces and bawling her head off."
    Dean came to his feet as R.D. stopped pacing. "Babs—how is she?"
    "She's going to be fine," the doctor assured him. "They have taken her to Recovery. She should be coming out of the anesthesia fairly soon.
    "I'd like to see her."
    "Of course. Come with me," the doctor said.
    "Here." R.D. reached inside his jacket. "Have a cigar."
    Dean was there when Babs came to. She was groggy and a little silly, but for Babs, that was normal. Relieved, Dean joined his father at the nursery window.
    "There she is." R.D. pointed to a red-faced, squalling infant wildly waving her little fists. A downy mass of black hair covered her head. "Strong little tyke, isn't she? And a Lawson through and through. Look at her yellin' her head off, lettin' the world know she's here. And those eyes, too, they're Lawson blue."
    "All babies have blue eyes when they're born, R.D." But Dean smiled at the obvious pride his father took in the child. He felt it, too.
    "Not blue like that. Are you still going to name her after your grandma?"
    It had been Babs's suggestion to name the baby after the woman who had raised both himself and R.D. if it was a girl. Dean had agreed, knowing how much it would please R.D. "You're looking at Abigail Louise Lawson."
    "I like that." R.D. nodded approvingly, a softness entering his expression before it slowly turned thoughtful. "When's the other one due?"
    Dean was surprised by the reference to Caroline. R.D. had rarely mentioned her since that day last August when Dean had informed him Caroline was going to have his baby. R.D. hadn't said much except to