Sugar Daddy(57)

"All the time." I sat next to him. "I'm Carrington's guardian."

He looked bewildered. "Then she's not going back?"

"Back to where?" I asked, my confusion mirroring his. "Our parents are both gone."

"Oh." He looked away from me. "Liberty...are you sure she's your sister and not your daughter?"

What did he mean, was I sure? "Are you asking if I had a baby and somehow forgot about it?" I asked, more stunned than angry. "Or are you asking if I'm lying? She's my sister, Mike."

"Sorry. Sorry." Chagrin corrugated his forehead. He spoke rapidly. "I guess there's not much resemblance between you. But it doesn't really matter if you're her mom or not. The result is the same, isn't it?"

Before I could reply the bedroom door burst open. Carrington ventured into the room, her face wreathed in anxiety. "Liberty, something happened."

I stood from the sofa like I'd just sat on a hot stove-plate. "What do you mean, something happened? What? What?"

"Something went down my throat without my permission."

Shit

Fear wrapped around my heart like barbed wire. "What went down your throat, Carrington?"

Her face crumpled and turned red. "My lucky penny," she said, and began to cry.

Trying to think above the panic. I recalled the stray brown penny we'd found on the carpeted elevator floor. Carrington had been keeping it in the dish on our nightstand. I rushed over and picked her up. "How did you swallow it? What were you doing with that dirty penny in your mouth?"

"I don't know," she wailed. "I just put it in there and then it jumped down my throat."

I was dimly aware of Mike in the background, mumbling something about how this wasn't a good time, maybe he should go. We both ignored him.

I grabbed the phone and dialed the pediatrician, sitting with Carrington in my lap. "You could have choked on it," I scolded. "Carrington. don't put pennies or nickels or dimes or anything like that in your mouth ever again. Did it hurt your throat? Did it go all the way down when you swallowed?"

She stopped crying as she considered my questions solemnly. "I think I feel it in my zorax/' she said. "It's stuck."

"There's no such thing as a zorax." My pulse was hammering. The answering service put me on hold. I wondered if swallowing a penny would give you metal poisoning. Were pennies still made of copper? Was the penny going to lodge somewhere in Carrington's esophagus and require an operation for its removal? How much would that kind of operation cost?

The woman at the other end of the phone was annoyingly calm as I described the emergency. She took down the information and said the pediatrician would call back within ten minutes. Hanging up the phone. I continued to hold Carrington in my lap. her bare feet dangling.

Mike approached us both. I saw from his expression that this would be forever engraved in his mind as the date from hell. He wanted to leave almost as badly as I wanted him to go.

"Look," he said awkwardly, "you're a gorgeous girl, and you're sweet as all get-out, but...I don't need this in my life right now. I need someone with no baggage. It's just...I can't help you pick up the pieces. I've got too many of my own pieces to pick up. You probably don't understand."

I understood. Mike wanted a girl with no problems and no past experiences, someone who came with a guarantee that she would never make mistakes or disappoint or hurt him.

Later I would feel sorry for him. I knew there was a lot of disappointment in store for Mike, in his search for the woman with no baggage. But for the moment I felt only annoyance at him. I thought of how Hardy had always come to the rescue at times like this. the way he would stride into a room and take charge, and the incredible relief I felt at knowing he was there. But Hardy wasn't coming. All I had was a useless male who didn't even think to ask if he could do something to help.

"That's fine." I tried to sound casual. I wanted to throw something, like you would to get rid of a stray dog. "Thank you for the date, Mike. We'll be fine. If you wouldn't mind seeing yourself to the door—"

"Sure." he said hastily. "Sure."

He vanished.

"Am I gonna die?" Carrington inquired, sounding interested and mildly concerned.

"Only if I catch you with another penny in your mouth," I said.

The pediatrician called, and he interrupted my frantic chatter. "Miss Jones, is your sister wheezing or choking?"

"She's not choking." I looked into Carrington's face. "Let me hear you breathe, baby."

She complied enthusiastically, hyperventilating like a phone pervert. "No wheezing," I told the doctor, and turned back to my sister. "That's enough, Carrington."