outfits.”
“That was five months ago, Ben. He’s a kid. He grows. And he wears them out. Look at the knees on those overalls he’s wearing.”
“All right,” Ben said, “what are my choices?”
“There are no choices. Only a single imperative. Baby Gap.”
Ben appeared perplexed. “Is that a store?”
Joni’s eyes rolled. “Jeez, Ben, you are totally clueless.”
“I’ve just never cared for clothes shopping. My mother used to take me on these endless expeditions to—”
“Please! Don’t burden me with the nightmarish tale of a rich kid forced to buy beautiful clothes against his will. My heart doesn’t bleed for you.”
“You never had to go to a birthday party wearing a cravat.”
Joni returned to her cooking. “Just leave me some money, Ben. I’ll take the little darling out to Woodland Hills tomorrow and fix him up.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. Remember, Ben, we’re not just caretakers. We’re responsible for his inner being. We have to make sure he can evolve.”
“Right.” Ben lifted Joey out of his playpen. “How’s my little man evolving today?”
Joey didn’t appear displeased to escape the playpen, but he didn’t show any great happiness in it, either.
“C’mon, Joey. How ’bout a little smile for Uncle Ben?”
No smile was forthcoming.
“Okay, how ’bout a tiny titter of merriment?”
No change.
“A modest display of enthusiasm?”
Nope.
“Could you wink your right eye for me?”
Joey began picking his nose.
Ben swung the boy through the air and deposited him in his high chair. “There you go. Almost time for din-din.”
Ben leaned close to Joey’s ear and whispered. “You are glad to see me, though, aren’t you, pal?” Ben peered deeply into the child’s bright blue eyes. What he wouldn’t give to see a flicker of recognition in there, a glimmer of appreciation, a tiny reflection of his own love. But he couldn’t kid himself. He didn’t see it. He didn’t see anything at all except his own desperate face reflected in the iris.
“Here it is,” Joni announced. She placed the main course in the center of the table, laid plates, and gave Joey his vegetable platter. “Eat up. Oooh! This is so exciting!”
Ben calmly scraped a reasonable portion of shrimp tarragon onto his plate. Well, what were a few hives among friends?
After dinner, Ben made a few unsuccessful attempts to play with Joey, then settled for playing the piano for him, which Joey seemed to like, or not dislike, anyway. Ben played some Mozart (because he had read that children’s IQs could be raised by listening to Mozart). Then he played a Christine Lavin tune, “Old-Fashioned Romance,” and a James Taylor favorite he and Mike had performed back in their college days, “If I Keep My Heart Out of Sight.” By the end of the last, he noticed Joey’s eyelids beginning to droop. He gave his nephew a quick bath, tucked him into bed, and read several storybooks to him. When Joey was asleep, Ben turned on the Natural Sounds comforter (hear high tide in your own bedroom!) and left the room.
Ben was tired, but he knew he couldn’t sleep yet. He had a decision to make first. He would’ve liked to have had more time, but it wasn’t fair to keep Mayor Barrett in the lurch. He had to decide immediately if he was taking the case.
Not that it was necessarily so hideous to represent someone who was guilty. He’d taken cases before for people he—well, if he didn’t know they were guilty, he certainly had strong suspicions. But this was different. The charge was murder. Murder of the defendant’s own family. A heinous, absolutely unforgivable crime. The thought of being in the same room with someone who could do such a thing made Ben’s blood run cold.
The media exposure was another factor. Mike was right; it was going to be a circus. He’d dealt with the press before, usually ineptly, but never on this level. Of course, publicity might be advantageous for a struggling attorney.
“That was five months ago, Ben. He’s a kid. He grows. And he wears them out. Look at the knees on those overalls he’s wearing.”
“All right,” Ben said, “what are my choices?”
“There are no choices. Only a single imperative. Baby Gap.”
Ben appeared perplexed. “Is that a store?”
Joni’s eyes rolled. “Jeez, Ben, you are totally clueless.”
“I’ve just never cared for clothes shopping. My mother used to take me on these endless expeditions to—”
“Please! Don’t burden me with the nightmarish tale of a rich kid forced to buy beautiful clothes against his will. My heart doesn’t bleed for you.”
“You never had to go to a birthday party wearing a cravat.”
Joni returned to her cooking. “Just leave me some money, Ben. I’ll take the little darling out to Woodland Hills tomorrow and fix him up.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. Remember, Ben, we’re not just caretakers. We’re responsible for his inner being. We have to make sure he can evolve.”
“Right.” Ben lifted Joey out of his playpen. “How’s my little man evolving today?”
Joey didn’t appear displeased to escape the playpen, but he didn’t show any great happiness in it, either.
“C’mon, Joey. How ’bout a little smile for Uncle Ben?”
No smile was forthcoming.
“Okay, how ’bout a tiny titter of merriment?”
No change.
“A modest display of enthusiasm?”
Nope.
“Could you wink your right eye for me?”
Joey began picking his nose.
Ben swung the boy through the air and deposited him in his high chair. “There you go. Almost time for din-din.”
Ben leaned close to Joey’s ear and whispered. “You are glad to see me, though, aren’t you, pal?” Ben peered deeply into the child’s bright blue eyes. What he wouldn’t give to see a flicker of recognition in there, a glimmer of appreciation, a tiny reflection of his own love. But he couldn’t kid himself. He didn’t see it. He didn’t see anything at all except his own desperate face reflected in the iris.
“Here it is,” Joni announced. She placed the main course in the center of the table, laid plates, and gave Joey his vegetable platter. “Eat up. Oooh! This is so exciting!”
Ben calmly scraped a reasonable portion of shrimp tarragon onto his plate. Well, what were a few hives among friends?
After dinner, Ben made a few unsuccessful attempts to play with Joey, then settled for playing the piano for him, which Joey seemed to like, or not dislike, anyway. Ben played some Mozart (because he had read that children’s IQs could be raised by listening to Mozart). Then he played a Christine Lavin tune, “Old-Fashioned Romance,” and a James Taylor favorite he and Mike had performed back in their college days, “If I Keep My Heart Out of Sight.” By the end of the last, he noticed Joey’s eyelids beginning to droop. He gave his nephew a quick bath, tucked him into bed, and read several storybooks to him. When Joey was asleep, Ben turned on the Natural Sounds comforter (hear high tide in your own bedroom!) and left the room.
Ben was tired, but he knew he couldn’t sleep yet. He had a decision to make first. He would’ve liked to have had more time, but it wasn’t fair to keep Mayor Barrett in the lurch. He had to decide immediately if he was taking the case.
Not that it was necessarily so hideous to represent someone who was guilty. He’d taken cases before for people he—well, if he didn’t know they were guilty, he certainly had strong suspicions. But this was different. The charge was murder. Murder of the defendant’s own family. A heinous, absolutely unforgivable crime. The thought of being in the same room with someone who could do such a thing made Ben’s blood run cold.
The media exposure was another factor. Mike was right; it was going to be a circus. He’d dealt with the press before, usually ineptly, but never on this level. Of course, publicity might be advantageous for a struggling attorney.
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