That was the hard part. “Baby, I'm afraid you have to.”
“Why?” Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. “I don't even know him. What if I don't like him?”
“Then you just kind of pass the time. It's only four times until we go to court again.”
“Four times?” The tears started to roll down her cheeks.
“Every Saturday.” Bernie felt as though he had sold out his only daughter and he hated Chandler Scott and his attorney and Grossman and the courts and the judge for making him do it. And especially Grossman for telling him so coolly not to rock the boat. Chandler Scott wasn't coming to his house on Saturday to take his daughter.
“Daddy, I don't want to.” She wailed, and he told her the ugly truth of it.
“You have to.” He handed her his handkerchief and sat on the banquette next to her, and put an arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head against him and cried harder. Everything was so difficult for her now. It wasn't fair to add more. And he hated them all for it. “Look at it this way, it's only four times. And Grandma and Grampa are coming from New York for Thanksgiving. That'll give us plenty to think about.” He had put off his trip to Europe again, with all the headaches he'd been having with help at the time, and Berman didn't push him. It had been months since he'd seen his parents. Since August when his mother took the children home with her. And Mrs. Pippin had promised to make the Thanksgiving turkey. She had turned out to be the godsend she had promised to be, and Bernie was in love with her. He only hoped his mother liked her. They were about the same age and as different as night and day. His mother was expensively dressed, well groomed, a little frivolous, difficult as hell when she chose to be. Mrs. Pippin was starched and plain and as unfrivolous as a woman could be, but decent and warm and competent, and wonderful to his children, and very British. It was going to be an interesting combination.
He paid the check at the Hippo then, and walked out to the car with Jane, and when they got home, Mrs. Pippin was waiting to keep Jane company while she took a bath, read her a story, and put her to bed. And the first thing Jane did when she walked in the door, was take one look at Nanny, as they all called her now, throw her arms around her neck, and intone tragically. “Nanny, I have another father.” Bernie smiled at the drama of the words, and Nanny sniffed as she led Jane away to the bathtub.
Chapter 27
The “other” father, as Jane had referred to him, appeared almost punctually at nine-fifteen on Saturday morning. It was the Saturday before Thanksgiving. And all of them sat in the living room waiting. Bernie, Jane, Mrs. Pippin, and Alexander.
The clock on the mantel in the living room ticked mercilessly as all of them waited and Bernie began hoping that Chandler Scott wouldn't show up. But they weren't that lucky. The doorbell rang, and Jane jumped, as Bernie went to get it. She still didn't want to go out with him, and she was feeling extremely nervous as she stood close to Nanny and played with Alexander, keeping an eye on the man standing in the doorway talking to Bernie. She couldn't see him yet. But she could hear him. He had a loud voice and he sounded friendly, maybe because he was an actor, or had been.
Then she saw Bernie step aside and the man walked into the living room and looked from her to Alexander, almost as though he didn't know which was which, and then he glanced at Nanny and back at Jane.
“Hello, I'm your dad.” It was an awkward thing to say. But it was an extremely awkward moment. He didn't hold out a hand to her, and he didn't approach her, and she wasn't sure she liked his eyes. They were the same color as hers, but they darted around the room a lot, and he seemed more interested in her real daddy, as she called Bernie, than he was in her. He was looking at Bernie's big gold Rolex watch, and he seemed to be taking in the whole room, and the neat woman in the blue uniform and navy brogues who sat watching him with Alexander on her lap. He didn't ask for an introduction. “Are you ready?”
Jane shrank back and Bernie stepped forward. “Why don't you talk here for a little while, and get to know each other before you go out?” Scott didn't look pleased at the suggestion. He looked at his watch, and then at Bernie with annoyance.
“I don't think we have time.” Why? Where were they going? Bernie didn't like the sound of it, but he didn't want to say so and make Jane even more nervous than she was.
“Surely, you can spare a few minutes. Would you like a cup of coffee?” Bernie hated being so pleasant to him, but it was all for Jane's sake. Scott declined the coffee, and Jane sat on the arm of Nanny's chair and watched him. He was wearing a turtleneck sweater and blue jeans and he was carrying a brown leather jacket, and he was handsome …but not in a way she liked. He looked shiny, instead of warm and cozy like Daddy. And he looked too plain without a beard like Bernie's, she decided.
“What's the little guy's name?” He glanced at the baby, but without much interest, and Nanny told him it was Alexander. She was watching the man's face, and especially his eyes. She didn't like what she saw there, and neither did Bernie. The eyes were darting everywhere and he paid no attention to Jane at all. “Too bad about Liz,” he said to Jane, and she almost choked as he said it. “You look a lot like her.”
“Thank you,” Jane said politely. And with that he stood up and looked at his watch again.
“See you later, folks.” He didn't hold a hand out to Jane or tell her where they were going. He just walked to the door and expected her to follow, like a dog, and she looked as though she were about to cry, as Bernie smiled at her encouragingly and gave her a hug before she left, clutching a little pink sweater that matched the dress she wore. She looked as though she were dressed for a party.
“It'll be all right, sweetheart,” he whispered. “It's just for a few hours.”
“Bye, Daddy.” She hung around his neck. “Bye, Nanny …bye, Alex.” She waved at both of them and blew the baby a kiss as she headed for the door. She suddenly looked like a very little girl again, and Bernie was reminded of the first time he saw her. And something deep inside him made him want to run out and stop her, but he didn't. He watched them instead from the window. Chandler Scott said something to her as he got into a beaten-up old car, and as though with a premonition of doom, he wrote down the license number, as Jane got into the passenger seat gingerly, and the door slammed. And a moment later they drove off and he turned to see Mrs. Pippin frowning at him.
“There's something wrong with that man, Mr. Fine. I don't like him.”
“Neither do I, and I agree with you. But the court doesn't want to hear that, not for another month anyway. I just hope to hell nothing happens to her. I'll kill the sonofabitch …” He didn't finish the thought, and Nanny went out to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of tea. It was almost time for Alexander's morning nap, and she had work to do, but all day she fretted about Jane, and so did Bernie. He puttered around the house, and he had paperwork and errands to do at home, and other projects waiting for him at the store, but he couldn't concentrate on any of it. He stayed close to home all day in case she called. And at six o'clock he was sitting in the living room, tapping his foot, waiting for her. She was due in an hour, and he was anxious for her to get home.
Nanny brought the baby in to him before he went to bed, but Bernie couldn't even concentrate on him, and she shook her head as she took him to his room. She didn't want to say anything, but she had a terrible feeling in her stomach about the man who had come to take Jane away. And she had the most terrible premonition that something had happened. But she didn't say any of that to Bernie as he waited.