"When did it change?"

"When I was four. Kids can be cruel at a playground. I had no idea what the names meant. My parents explained."

"How? What did they say?"

"That people gravitate toward those who are like them-that they're threatened by people who are different-that, as differences go, skin color is the toughest because it can't be hidden. I worked twice as hard in med school, and I still do it now, as a doctor. Even after all this time, do you think I can just sit back and relax? Think again." He pointed to his face. "When things go wrong, this is the first thing they cite."

"For you?" she asked skeptically.

"Believe it, Dana. Look what's happening here-with you, with your baby. He thinks it's mine? What is he, nuts?"

"It's his family-"

"Whoa," David cut in, eyes wide and angry again. "Hugh's, what, forty years old? Don't blame his family. He has a mouth."

"And he's used it, trust me, but that family is a way of life."

"How can you defend them?"

"I can't. They live in such a rarefied world that they're half a century behind in some things."

"Well, they're wrong."

"Of course they're wrong," said Dana. "I can't believe the rest of the world is as bad-or, let's say, I don't want to believe it. Your Ali is happy. She accepts her color, like she accepts her hair and her smile. I want Lizzie to be that way."

"Then work on your husband," David advised.

"Daddy," Ali cried, running up, "I just saw Baby E-lizabeth. Dana, Dana, she is so lit-tle." Shoulders scrunched up, she tapped her thumb and forefinger together right in front of her face. "Her nose is lit-tle and her mouth and her eyes. How can she be so lit-tle?"

Dana put an affectionate hand on Ali's head. "She's just two days old. Isn't it amazing?"

Ali grabbed Dana's hand. "I want to hold her. Gram Ellie said I had to ask you. Can I, Dana?"

"She has to wake up first."

"Can I take her for a walk? Can I wheel the carriage? Gram Ellie says maybe you would let me-"

"Can't do, pumpkin," said David. "We have to go meet the swimming teacher in a little while."

"I'm taking lessons at the town pool," Ali told Dana, turning back to her father. "Then later?" she begged. "We have all afternoon and all night."

"No, we don't," David replied. "We have to shop for things to take camping, then we have to pack. We're leaving tomorrow at dawn."

Pressing close to Dana, Ali said an excited, "I'm getting a sleeping bag and a flashlight and a backpack. Gram Ellie's making Baby E-lizabeth a sweater. I want to make one for her, too. Can I, Dana?"

"A sweater?" Dana teased. "When did you learn how to knit?"

"I haven't learned yet, but last time I was here, you promised you'd teach me, so I want to learn now."

"Aren't you a little young?" David asked.

"No, I am not. Dana was seven. I'm almost eight."

David sighed. "That may be true. But this isn't a good time. Dana just had a baby."

Slipping an arm around Dana's waist, Ali said, "I can take care of the baby while she teaches me." She looked up from Dana's side. "Can we do it at the yarn store?"

"Ali," David warned, but Dana touched his arm.

"I'd love it, David. You're back from camping on Sunday night, right? How about Monday?"

"I wouldn't make promises, if I were you," he advised. Think of Hugh, his eyes added.

"I can do what I want," she said firmly. "I would love to teach Ali to knit, and I'd love to do it next Monday."

Chapter 9.

The garden mom was Crystal Kostas, though her last name came only when Hugh met her face to face. When she called his office late Thursday afternoon, she only said "Crystal" and refused to leave her phone number. Fortunately, his secretary, Sheila, sensed the girl's nervousness and, on the spot, set a meeting for Friday morning.

Crystal arrived at the office wearing a long skirt with her tee shirt. Her auburn hair was anch.o.r.ed by a barrette at her nape in a way that downplayed the plum streaks. But her sandals were worn, and her face even more drawn than when he had seen her last.

He guided her down the hall from the reception desk and, once in his office, closed the door. He gestured her to one of the leather chairs, then, because she looked so nervous, said, "Would you rather I have an a.s.sociate in here with us?"

She shook her head and looked around, first at the diplomas on the wall, then at the picture of Dana on the credenza, then at some bronze bookends that had been made by an artist on Martha's Vineyard. His parents still owned the house in Menemsha, but he and Dana had only made it there once this summer.

"Can I get you a cup of coffee?" he asked.

She shook her head.

He put an ashtray on the side table in her arm's reach, and took a seat.

Now she was looking at the pictures on the wall. Framed in wood, they were the standard charity-event shots, in which Hugh stood shoulder to shoulder with celebs. She would be impressed. Most of his clients were. Wasn't that the point?

He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "Do I look more like a lawyer today?" He wore a pair of tan slacks, an open-neck shirt, and a navy blazer.

She shot him a glance. "Yes."

"How's your son?" he asked.

"Not good."

"Is he stable?"

She nodded.

"Tell me more, Crystal."

She chewed on a corner of her mouth. Finally, seeming resigned, she said, "He's healing okay from the surgery. He's in a body cast, and a cast for the broken leg. But at least the pain and the numbness are gone. And the paralysis."

"Paralysis?"

"Of, um," she waved an unsure hand, "um, they called it saddle something. Anesthesia." She looked up, the left eye still drifting left. "Saddle anesthesia. He couldn't control his bladder. The operation fixed that."

"When can he go home?"

"Soon." Her expression told him this was not a good thing. "I don't know how I'll get him up and down the stairs with all that plaster on him. And it'll be a while before we know about the growth plates."

"How long is a while?"

"Maybe in six weeks when we go back for a smaller cast. Or it could be another two years. They don't want Jay growing lopsided. More surgeries would prevent that." She grew agitated. "They keep talking about this doctor at Washington University, like he's the only one they'd trust to do the surgery if Jay were their kid, but that's in St. Louis, like I have money to travel. And then I'm sitting there helping Jay eat, and a lady from the hospital comes to talk about finances, because it's like the hospital was willing to do the surgery when they thought I had no money at all, but now they're looking at the paperwork, and they say I earn too much. I earn twenty-eight thousand a year. Do you know how little that is when you're trying to raise a child?"

Hugh had done the math with other clients. "You still want to go ahead with this?"

"I can't pay you," she said pointedly.

"I said I wouldn't charge you, and I promised you we'd put it in writing. Give me your full name, and that's the first thing I'll do." He took paper and pen from the desk. "It's Crystal, then?"

"I checked you out," she said. "No one's suing you."

"No."

"And you win a lot."

"I try."

"And your wife did just have a baby."

"How'd you check that?" he asked with gentle suspicion. "Hospital records are private."

Her chin came up, a touch of satisfaction there. "After we talked, I went to the information desk and said I was visiting the Clarkes. They told me what room. I just wanted to be sure you weren't lying."

"I don't lie," Hugh said, and waited. She knew what was needed if they were to proceed. "Let's start with a name. Three, actually-yours, his, and the boy's."

She began with her own. "It's Kostas." She spelled it out as he wrote. "And my son is Jay Liam Kostas."

"And the father?"

"J. Stanton..." She hesitated.

J. Stanton. There was only one in Congress. "Are you talking about Hutchinson?"

She pressed her lips together.

"Stan Hutchinson fathered your child?" he asked in amazement.

"You don't believe me," she said, gathering her pouch. "I shouldn't have come."

He caught her wrist. "I do believe you. I know his reputation." He released her wrist. "Please. Sit."

She swallowed, sat, and said bleakly, "Reputation? To hear him talk on TV, you wouldn't know there was anything bad."

"Of course not. He preaches morals with the best of them, but I hate to tell you this..." He stopped. Many women believed they were the one who would win a man away from his wife. He wondered if Crystal Kostas had harbored such hopes.

But she said, quite dispa.s.sionately, "You're going to say I'm not the first, but his man said that when I called. The guy laughed this horrible laugh and said women are always trying to pin things on the senator and that I'd have to get in line. He said it'd be a waste of time, since everyone knows the senator is married and that he does not believe in cheating. Well, I don't want the senator," she said with distaste. "I just want the best medical care for my son-for his son."

"Hutchinson. This will be a good case."

"Can I win?"

"a.s.suming we can find corroborating evidence that you were with him at the time of the boy's conception. It's what I told you at the hospital on Tuesday. Hutchinson won't want publicity from this. Two of his major issues are family values and health care for the uninsured. Your son makes a mockery of his words on both counts."

"But all those other women-know how cheap that made me feel?"

Hugh might have pointed out that she had slept with a married man. But it wasn't his job to judge, only to represent the rights of his client.

"The irony," he said, "is that the senator has had so many women that his chief of staff can get away with making them all feel cheap." Hugh sat back and grinned. "Apparently, none of those other women had the resources to take him on. I do." He pulled up his pad. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-nine."

"And the boy is four?"

"Yes."

"Where do you live?"

Once he had the address on paper, he tore off the sheet and phoned Melissa Dubin. A male a.s.sociate might resonate better with Hutchinson's man, but Melissa would be better with Crystal, and Crystal was key at this stage. Without corroborative evidence, there would be nothing to compel Hutchinson to take a DNA test. And a DNA test was the single piece of evidence that would prove, beyond a doubt, the paternity of a child.

Hugh thought of Dana, and felt uneasy. She was really angry. He didn't want to think she had slept with David, but how well did he know David? How well did he know Dana?

"Tell me more about you," he invited Crystal.

She fished in her bag and took out a cigarette, but made no move to light it. "You ask."

"Did you grow up in Pepperell?"

"Yes."

"With parents?"

"My father died when I was ten. Lung cancer."

It was all Hugh could do not to look at the cigarette in her hand. But he wasn't a doctor, and he sure as h.e.l.l wasn't a judge. "Do you have any siblings?"