“Well, if it brought you to speak to him, the cloud has a silver lining.” Sophie tried to process every thought that was running, racing through her head. “I won’t deny that she’s not the first daughter-in-law I would have chosen—”

“Daughter-in-law!”

“You will reconcile. And marry, of course,” Sophie said. “You liked her well enough to go out with her . . .”

Go out. Such an effective euphemism.

“So I’m sure you can recapture whatever ... the two of you ... once had.You have a baby now. And the baby will need its father.”

“I can be its father if we’re not married.”

“Of course you can,” Sophie agreed. “But it won’t be as good—not as good, not as perfect, for the child. It depends on the kind of sacrifices you are prepared to make for your flesh and blood, Tom.”

“The child,” he muttered.

“Your child. Your baby,” his mother said gently. “And my grandchild.” There were tears in her eyes, but she smiled. “It’s part of you, and I love it already, Tom. Babies are the best thing in the world. Judy being pregnant is wonderful news.”

“You’re mad,” he said. He glanced at her eyes, bright with tears; she was smiling and crying at the same time. “Too much emotion in one day, it’s turned your head, Maman.”

“No,” Sophie said, intently. “It really is wonderful, angel. Whatever’s in the past can stay in the past. I can make peace with Judy. Let her know she’s accepted into the family. . . .”

“I haven’t agreed to marry her yet.”

“And nobody can force you.” Sophie started walking again. “If you truly think life with her would be intolerable, then don’t do it. But if you think you could learn to love her, you ought to. Yes, you could be a visiting father. But children do better in a home with two parents who love them, and children need their dad.” She paused. “You, of all people, know that.”

Tom nodded. That hit him, hard.

Maman was right . . . she was more than affectionate, she was wise. He suddenly cared; Judy’s pregnancy was more than an unpleasant fact—it was his baby, his little baby.

He could sacrifice for that. He had admired Judy . . . and he could get that back.

There was pain, though. He didn’t love her. And at once, as he contemplated marrying her, he stopped dancing around the thought of Polly.

I love Polly. I always have, he thought, and I pushed her away. I fucked that up, like I fucked up House Massot, like I fucked up with Maman . . .

Tom felt very young. And not in a particularly good way.

“And now I’m to be a father,” he said. “I don’t know if I’m ready for it.”

“Nobody ever is,” Sophie said. “Trust me on that one.”