That's My Baby!. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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on the trunk. Did you notice that? That’s how you’ll know which one to follow.”
“I see the cab. I just wanna know what’s with the cops-and-robbers routine. I don’t wanna be a whatchamacallit—accomplice.”
“I’m not breaking the law.” Jessica was losing patience with the cabbie. She was pretty much out of patience, anyway, and being back in New York put her even more on edge. The closer they came to the jeweled city on the horizon, the more she felt the tug of her father’s influence.
“I don’t wanna get mixed up in anything,” the driver said. “I just wanna do my job, y’know?”
“In the movies, the cabdriver never complains about having to follow another taxi,” Jessica pointed out. “He just does it.”
“See? What did I tell you? You think you’re in a damn movie or somethin’! I’ll bet they just let you out of the nuthouse. Gave you a pack of meds and told you to have a nice life. And it’s my bad luck that you picked my cab to act out your delusions.”
“I’m perfectly sane.” Jessica might not like being chauffeured, but she was used to it, and she’d never had a driver question her the way this one was doing. Of course, she was used to limos. And this guy didn’t know who she was. He didn’t know the paper beside him on the front seat was the product of her father’s news empire. “Quick, he just changed lanes!”
The driver sounded highly insulted. “I can see that he changed lanes, lady. I didn’t start driving yesterday. Do you even know who’s in that cab?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, right. You probably think it’s Elvis.”
“I know who’s in the cab. I need to talk to him.”
“Why? Who is it?”
Many times as a child Jessica had watched her mother deal with questions she didn’t want to answer. Her mother would stiffen her spine and speak in what Jessica thought of as her to-the-manner-born voice. Jessica had never tried the technique, but she decided to give it a whirl.
Straightening in her seat, she lifted her chin and said, “I don’t believe that’s any of your business.”
Her effort seemed lost on the cabbie. “It sure as hell is my business! I’m transportin’ you in my cab! And I’d appreciate it if you’d lay off the high-and-mighty tone, unless you’re about to tell me you’re kissing cousins to the Rockefellers, which I sincerely doubt.”
Close, Jessica thought. But apparently she didn’t have the presence to carry it off. Then again, she did look like a bag lady. Maybe her mother’s success in turning aside impertinent questions had as much to do with her elegant clothes and her position in society as her tone of voice. Yet in her heart of hearts, Jessica believed that even dressed in rags with no fortune to command, her mother would make people do her bidding. She’d certainly kept her husband and daughter in line for years.
Jessica sighed. Barring a personality transplant, she’d need to give the cabbie some explanation for why they were tailing another cab into the city, or she was liable to be dumped by the side of the road. “The man in the other cab is an old boyfriend,” she said. “I’ve changed since we last met, and he didn’t recognize me, but I really need to talk to him.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“Maybe not,” she acknowledged, “but I have some information he needs to hear.”
“Aw, jeez, I know where this is goin’. We’re talkin’ about the patter of little feet, right?”
Jessica couldn’t think of anything but the truth. “You might say that.”
“Poor bastard. But them that plays, pays. I learned that one the hard way. Do you have any idea where he’s goin’?”
“To a hotel in the city, I imagine.”
The cabbie heaved a sigh. “All right, then. I’ll catch him for ya.”
“Thank you.” Jessica settled back against the seat as the sparkling skyscrapers of Manhattan hovered ever nearer. Habit caused her to pick out the Franklin Publishing Tower dangling between sky and earth like one of her mother’s diamond chokers.
She spoke only briefly with her parents these days, stopping long enough in her flight to put in a quick call every couple of weeks. They thought she was “seeing the country.” None of her conversations with them in the past few years had been significant, anyway, and she hadn’t seen them since she’d left home.
They didn’t approve of her decision to abandon their world and try to create her own life, and their attitude toward her had been curt ever since she’d moved to Colorado. Her current predicament, having a child out of wedlock and a stalker on her trail, would only confirm what they’d always assumed—that on her own she’d make a mess of things. She didn’t want to give them a chance to say we told you so.
“How far along are you?” the cabbie asked.
Jessica blinked and tried to figure out what he meant.
“When’s the baby due?” he asked, clarifying his question.
“I, um, already had her,” she said. “I left her with friends.”
“Wait a doggone minute! You already had the kid, and you’re just now nailing the father? Are you sure he’s the father and this isn’t some kind of shakedown?”
“I’m sure. He’s been out of the country. I couldn’t contact him before.”
The cabbie’s gaze flicked into the rearview mirror. “Okay, I’m gonna believe you. The reason is that your voice sounded strong when you said that. After all these years of drivin’ cab, I can tell when a passenger’s blowin’ smoke. You can hear it in their voice. So what did you name her?”
“Elizabeth.” Speaking the name brought a lump to Jessica’s throat and she wondered if she’d cry when she talked to Nat about the baby. She hoped she wouldn’t cry. She didn’t want his pity, only his support.
“Pretty name. I got two kids. Both boys. Rory and Jonathan. I had to marry my wife on account of Rory, but it’s worked out okay.”
Worked out okay. The lukewarm comment made Jessica shiver. She’d never in a million years want a marriage that worked out okay. Even if Nat had a burst of responsibility and proposed marriage to give Elizabeth two parents, Jessica wouldn’t agree. But Nat wouldn’t propose. Marriage scared him to death. The only thing that scared him worse was fatherhood.
“Your guy doesn’t seem to be goin’ into Midtown, like you thought,” the cabbie said. “Looks like we’re headed for the Hudson Parkway. Still want me to follow him?”
“Absolutely.” The route made her nervous, though. She knew it only too well. But it was only a coincidence that the first time she set foot back in New York since leaving her parents’ estate, Nat would lead her back in the direction of the Hudson Valley, straight toward Franklin Hall.
“Like I said, I hope you got money,” the driver said. “For all we know, the guy’s headed for Vermont to see the leaves.”
“I doubt it.”
“You ever seen the leaves?”
“Yes.” She’d taken a trip through Vermont in the limo with her parents the October she turned nine. The long black car had seemed to take up far too much space on the narrow back roads, and it had looked ridiculous sitting parked on the village square in one of the hamlets where’d they’d stopped for hot cider.
She’d been aware of people staring, but she’d grown used to that. She’d ignored them and gazed longingly at three children playing in a yard full of red, yellow and orange leaves. They’d rake them into piles and then dive into them, scattering the leaves in an explosion of color before raking them up and starting all over. Their laughter