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you.”
    â€œThere is no chance with me. You know that.”
    She shook her head and then spoke with some anger. “Not unless that baby is ours, right? Then you’d have to do the right thing, wouldn’t you?” She dared to step up next to him again, to tip her head back and speak right into his grim, set face. “For the sake of that baby, you’d put aside that awful promise you made to yourself when Monica died.”
    He didn’t even blink. “So?”
    â€œAm I right?”
    â€œYou just said the baby wasn’t ours.”
    â€œYou aren’t answering my question, Flynt.”
    â€œIs Lena ours?”
    â€œHow many times do I have to say it?”
    â€œThis once. Answer now and I won’t ask you again.”
    â€œIs this some kind of a deal you’re offering? I say it one more time, and you’ll believe me, you’ll finally let it go?”
    â€œLet’s put it this way. I’ll stop asking.”
    She saw what he was getting at. “So, you won’t believe me, you just won’t ask again. You’ll wait for the results of that paternity test.”
    â€œYou can volunteer the truth anytime between now and then.”
    â€œOh, well, thank you. Thank you so much.”
    â€œNo call for sarcasm, Josie.”
    â€œNot from where you’re standing, maybe.”
    â€œIs Lena ours?”
    â€œNo. She is not.”
    â€œWell,” he said. “Okay, then. Fair enough.”
    â€œWhat in the world has ‘fair’ got to do with it?”
    He ignored the question and asked another one of his own. “You still want the job of taking care of her?”
    She realized her mouth had dropped open and snapped it shut. “You’re offering it to me?”
    â€œThat’s right. You’ll have to move in here.”
    â€œI…yes, that’s what the ad in the Clarion said.”
    â€œYou’ll get two days off—the weekend—Friday at 6:00 p.m. to the same time on Sunday. But other than that, you’ll be with Lena pretty much round-the-clock—well, except for, say, three hours a day, Monday through Thursday. How’s that? Let’s say from two to five in the afternoon as a rule. I’ll spell you, or my mother will, or Cara—school’s out now, so she’s available in the daytime now and then.” Cara was a teacher at Mission Creek High. “So you’ll be able to check on Alva, make sure she’s got everything she needs and she’s doing all right.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œThe money will be good.” He named a figure.
    He was right. It was very good. After working in day care, Josie knew what such jobs generally paid, and it wasn’t a third of what Flynt had just offered. The hours would be much longer, true. But she’d get her room and board in the deal.
    â€œYou’ll have to talk to the people at the café, tell them you’re quitting. I need you to start right away.”
    â€œWait a minute. Your mother already as good as said she wouldn’t hire me.”
    â€œMy mother isn’t making this decision. Do you want the job?”
    Lord help her. “Yes,” she said. “I do.”

Six
    T he room off Flynt’s bedroom had become a nursery again. Josie recognized all the cute white-painted furniture stenciled with dancing teddy bears holding big, bright balloons. The bins of baby toys were back. So were the open shelves stacked with soft receiving blankets and sweet little snap-front T-shirts and pastel rompers.
    Flynt had even had someone in to paint fresh murals on the walls. Now it was fairies hovering in the air and cute, goofy-looking frogs in a pond. Before, it had been more teddy bears and a big rainbow arching across the ceiling.
    The baby lay on a play mat, on the soft dark-green carpet, waving her fat little arms and making giggly sounds at the toys dangling from the play station set up above her. Grace