Daniel's Gift Read Online Free PDF Page A

make a good father. He's a man a boy can look up to." Matt stared at her in amazement, and she felt completely foolish. "Well, he is."
    "If you're dating him for Danny's sake, catch a clue, Jen-Jen. Your kid hates him. In fact, that's probably why Danny is so eager to find his real father. He wants to get the hell away from Alan."
    "He doesn't." But even as she made the denial, Jenny wondered if there wasn't some truth to Matt's statement.
    "Why don't you ask him?"
    "I will when I find him." Jenny groaned as a slinky blonde in a red jumpsuit walked into the bar and headed straight for Matt. "Not Brenda. Please, tell me it's not coffee-tea-or-me Brenda."
    Matt opened one eye a little wider as he turned in his seat. He smiled, big and broad. "Baby face. You made it."
    "Buy me a drink, big guy? I've got a night off, before I hop on a flight to Tokyo." Brenda slid her hand around Matt's neck. "Hello, Jennifer."
    "Brenda." Jenny looked at Matt. "Are you sure you won't come with me?"
    "You can't steal him away. I just got here," Brenda protested.
    Matt shrugged. "Sorry, Jen-Jen. I'll call you later."
    "Not that I think you will, but if you don't get me at home, try Merrilee's."
    "You're going to tell Merrilee you lost your kid?" Matt shook his head. "Bad idea, Jen-Jen. You'll never hear the end of it. Our big sister can't tolerate failure."
    "Well, I'll tolerate anything if Danny is sitting in her solid white living room getting yelled at for putting his feet on Merrilee's precious couch." Jenny walked out of the bar and let the door slam behind her.
    The ocean was only a mile away and the air was cold and wet. The fog was drifting in. In another hour, the road between Half Moon Bay and San Mateo would be one long, dark and misty tunnel. She had to find Danny, and quickly. Hopefully, he had sense enough to go to Merrilee's instead of trying to get home on a night like this.

    * * *

    Merrilee St. Claire-Winston took the Cornish game hens out of the oven and set the pan on top of her stove. The hens were a perfect golden brown. She smiled proudly as she turned to her daughter, Constance. "Voila," she said.
    Connie, who was sixteen and depressed about everything in her life, especially the extra ten pounds of baby fat around her thighs, tossed her head in disgust. "I'm not eating that, Mother. I'm a vegetarian now."
    "You're a what?"
    "Vegetarian. As in, I don't eat dead animals."
    Merrilee sighed as she studied her daughter. Constance was a mixture of her mother and father, with Merrilee's blond hair and bosomy chest, and Richard's brown eyes and long legs. She was at an awkward stage, not particularly thin, average in height, long arms and stringy hair that Merrilee was just itching to style.
    Constance, of course, would have none of it. She hated Merrilee's short, perky hairstyle, her perfectly matched dresses and pumps. In fact, Constance took pride in looking exactly the opposite of her mother.
    Constance walked over to the stove and lifted the cover on the mashed potatoes. "I really wish you wouldn't mix butter into the potatoes. We should be cutting our fat intake."
    "Fine, dear. Next time you can make the potatoes."
    "Oh, Mother, please. Cooking is not my thing."
    Merrilee bristled in the face of her daughter's arrogance. She and Constance had been going head-to-head for the past two years, and Merrilee was not about to lose. "Nothing to do with this house seems to be your thing. You need to know how to cook if you're going to be a proper wife."
    Constance made a face. "I have no wish to be a proper wife, Mother. In fact, I don't think I'll get married."
    "Of course you will. You want children, don't you?"
    "I don't have to be married to have a kid. Aunt Jenny isn't married."
    "Your Aunt Jennifer is hardly the example I want you to live up to."
    "I like Jenny. She's cool. She listens when I talk to her. She understands."
    "Because she has about as much maturity as you do," Merrilee said scornfully. She hated the fact that