I move into the firm-strong-angry mode, the tone I’ve perfected over the years. “Listen, Greta. This is a two-person job. You and Hank are in this together. Take his hand.”

The model holds out her elegant model hand—the slim fingers, the perfect skin, the tapered nails. The football player takes that hand into his own very big hand. The couple look at each other.

“Good,” I say. “Let’s have a baby.”

Chapter 25

Chapter 25

IF EVER SOMEONE NEEDED actual living proof that the Lord is consistently kind and generous to the rich and the beautiful, Greta Moss’s delivery is that proof. Her eight-and-a-half-pound—You heard that right, eight and a half pounds. The baby almost weighs the same as the mother—baby boy arrives quickly, happily, and looking camera ready. It was a traditional vaginal birth, but amazingly he came out wrinkle-free. I could swear that he actually smelled of Johnson’s Baby Powder when he arrived.

The photographers descend, and Hank and Greta’s “people” allow the media—“Two at a time, please!”—into the room for photos. People, Vogue, Football Weekly.

Troy looks at me and whispers, “Ya know, this sort of reminds me of something I read about that happened in Bethlehem two thousand years ago.”

Meanwhile, I am busting to make my way to Dr. Rudi Sarkar’s office. I am so damned ready to lace into him about tricking me into assisting with Greta Moss’s birth. Of course the moment he sees me, he knows why I’ve come, and his charm defense is in high gear. His head is tilted to one side. His precious phony smile is that of a little boy who’s broken his mommy’s favorite vase.

“Okay. Okay. Okay. Mea culpa.”

My response? “You son of a bitch!”

“Look,” he says. “I tried to talk Greta out of relying on your services. But she insisted.”

“But you didn’t care to remember that I insisted I didn’t want to do it,” I say, just a few decibels away from a scream. “Your trying to talk her out of it came way too late in the game.”

“Listen. Greta Moss and Hank Waldren are extremely important people in New York. Right? It didn’t hurt.”

I raise my voice a little higher. “No, now you listen. I don’t give a shit. I’m extremely unimportant, but you asked. I said no, and then you…then you…”

Sarkar now says what I’ve actually been holding back from saying. “And then I tricked you.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth.”

“Yes. I suspect I did.”

I walk toward the door. He follows me and holds the door closed.

“Look, Lucy. The Waldrens and their new baby will be all over the papers and the internet and tonight’s TV. Smiling. Happy. Most important for us, safe. It will be wonderful publicity for the hospital. And we sure can use it.”