Myron nodded. "Her flight comes in at ten."

"She's been visiting quite a bit."

"Yep."

"Are you two"--Win crinkled his face as if someone had just flashed him a particularly nasty case of jock rot-- "getting serious?"

Myron looked at Terese on the screen. "Still too new," he said.

There was an All in the Family marathon on cable, so Win flipped to it. They ordered in some Chinese food and watched two episodes. Myron tried to get lost in the bliss of Archie and Edith, but it wasn't happening. His thoughts naturally kept returning to Jeremy. He managed to deflect the paternity issue, concentrating, as Emily had asked, on the disease and task at hand. Fanconi anemia. That was what she said the boy had. Myron wondered if they had anything about it on the Web.

"I'll be back in a little while," Myron said.

Win looked at him. "The Stretch Cunningham funeral episode is up next."

"I want to check something on the Web."

"The episode where Archie gives the eulogy."

"I know."

"Where he comments that he never thought Stretch Cunningham was Jewish because of the 'ham' in his last name."

"I know the episode, Win."

"And you're willing to miss it for the sake of the Web?"

"You have it on tape."

"That's not the point."

The two men looked at each other, comfortable in the silence. After some time passed, Win said, "Tell me."

He barely hesitated. "Emily said I'm the boy's father."

Win nodded and said, "Ah."

"You don't sound surprised."

Win used the chopsticks to grab another shrimp. "You believe her?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"For one thing, it's a hell of a thing to lie about it."

"But Emily is good at lying, Myron. She's always lied to you. She lied to you in college. She lied to you when Greg disappeared. She lied in court about Greg's behavior with the children. She betrayed Greg the night before their wedding by sleeping with you. And, if you will, if she is telling the truth now, she lied to you for the better part of thirteen years."

Myron thought about it. "I think she's telling the truth about this."

"You think, Myron."

"I'm going to take a blood test."

Win shrugged. "If you must."

"What does that mean?"

"I'll let the statement speak for itself."

Myron made a face. "Didn't you just say I should find out for sure?"

"Not at all," Win said. "I was merely pointing out the obvious. I didn't say it made a difference."

Myron thought about it. "You're confusing me."

"Simply put," Win said, "so what if you are the boy's biological father? What difference does it make?"

"Come on, Win. Not even you can be that cold."

"Quite the opposite. As strange as this might sound, I am using my heart on this one."

"How do you figure?"

Win swirled the liquid again, studied the amber, took a sip. It colored his cheeks a bit. "Again I'll put it simply: No matter what a blood test might indicate, you are not Jeremy Downing's father. Greg is. You may be a sperm donor. You may be an accident of lust and biology. You may have provided a simple microscopic cell structure that combined with one slightly more complex. But you are not this boy's father."