Smooth Talking Stranger Read Online Free PDF

to guess why she’s behaving this way. And when I find her, I’m not at all certain she’ll be capable of taking care of Luke. When we were younger, she couldn’t even keep a goldfish alive.”
    “I’ve got connections,” Dane said quietly. “I know some people who can help place him with a good family.”
    “I don’t know.” I glanced at the baby, whose eyes were closed. I wasn’t sure I could live with the idea of giving him to strangers. “I have to figure out what’s best for him.
Someone
has to put his needs first. He didn’t ask to be born.”
    “Get a good night’s sleep. You’ll figure out the right answer, Ella. You always do.”

THREE

    It was a mark of dane’s unfamiliarity with babies that he had suggested, without irony, that I get a good night’s sleep. My nephew was a living, breathing sleep disorder. It was without exception the worst night I had ever spent, a series of harsh awakenings and crying and formula-mixing and feeding and burping and diaper-changing, and then after about five minutes of rest it all started again. I didn’t know how anyone could live through months of this. After one night, I was a wreck.
    In the morning I showered, turning the water up to near-scalding in the hopes that it would ease my aching muscles. Wishing I’d had the foresight to bring a more impressive outfit, I dressed in the only clean clothes I had: a pair of jeans, a fitted cotton shirt, and leather flats. I brushed my hair until it was neat and smooth, and looked at my haggard, stone-white face. My eyes were so irritated and dry that I didn’t bother with my contact lenses. I decided to wear my glasses, a pair of sensible rectangular wire-rims.
    It didn’t improve my mood when I went to the kitchen, bringing Luke in his carrier, and saw my mother sitting at the table. Her fingers were knobbed with rings, her hair curled and sprayed. She wore shorts, her legs smooth and tan, and one of the pedicured toes that peeped from her wedge sandals sparkled with a tiny crystal toe ring.
    I set Luke’s carrier on the floor at the other side of the table, away from her.
    “Does the baby have any other clothes?” I asked. “His one-piece is dirty.”
    Mom shook her head. “There’s a discount store down the street. You can buy some things for him there. You’ll need a big pack of diapers—they go through them fast at this stage.”
    “No kidding,” I said wearily, heading for the coffeepot.
    “Did you talk to Liza last night?”
    “Uh-buh.”
    “What did she say?”
    “She thinks Tara’s okay. She’s going to make some calls today to try and find her.”
    “What about the baby’s daddy?”
    I had already decided not to tell her anything about Jack Travis’s possible involvement. Because if there was any way to ensure my mother’s interest and unwanted involvement, it was to mention a rich man’s name.
    “No idea yet,” I said casually.
    “Where are you going today?”
    “It looks like I’m going to find a hotel room.” I didn’t say it in an accusatory way. I didn’t need to.
    Her slim body stiffened in the chair. “The man I’m seeing can’t find out about this.”
    “Because you’re a grandmother?” I took a perverse pleasure in seeing her twitch at the word. “Or because Tara wasn’t married when she had the baby?”
    “Both. He’s younger than me. Conservative, too. He wouldn’t understand there’s only so much you can do with rebellious children.”
    “Tara and I haven’t been children for a while, Mom.” I took a sip of black coffee, the bitter brew eliciting a judder of revulsion. Living with Dane, I had grudgingly accustomed myself to softening the brew with soy milk instead.
What the hell,
I thought, and reached for the carton of half-and-half on the counter. I poured a liberal dollop into the coffee.
    Mom’s lipstick-coated mouth pressed into thin, dry ribbons. “You’ve always been a know-it-all. Well, you’re about to find out how much