Chapter 16: Nineteen Dollars

Quinton let her up.

He did it in a clean shirt, with his hair still damp, and he stood behind me in the doorway.

Paloma came in with her chin lifted and the folder held against her chest.

She looked at his shirt on me, then at the sofa, then at the napkin still lying on the rug.

Something crossed her face and was gone.

"I won't take long," she said.

"Sit," said Quinton.

She stayed on her feet.

She opened the folder and laid a single page on the coffee table.

It had a clinic letterhead, a column of numbers, and a line at the bottom that read: Probability of paternity 99.9%.

"Dexter wouldn't believe me, so I had it done," she said. "I thought you should see it before the gala. Family should hear these things from family."

"I'm not your family," I said.

"You will be. Sister." She smiled and laid her palm on her stomach. "Our children will share a name."

My hands were steady, and my mouth was dry.

I looked at the paper for a long moment.

"Thank you for bringing it," I said.

"You aren't angry?"

"Why would I be?"

Her smile faltered, just at one corner.

She had expected me to throw something.

"Leave it with us," said Quinton.

She left it.

At the door she looked at me once more.

"He kept the apartment under yours for a reason," she said. "He wanted you to hear us."

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