Not My Daughter

all.

She couldn't say that, of course. Going along seemed the safest thing. But Pam was a good friend, and her daughter was very possibly pregnant or trying to get pregnant. Tell her, cried a little voice in Susan's head.

But no one else spoke up. If Susan did, she would betray the others-and Lily.

So she said, 'I'll work out the dye recipes Saturday. Do we have a deadline for the catalogue?'

Pam was their mail-order link. At least, that was what she called herself, though on that front she did little more than pass data to a manager. More crucial to the operation, she was a lobbyist for PC Wool, the women's link to the powers-that-be. If there was a conflict of interest, given that she was a Perry herself, no one cared. PC Wool had shown a higher percentage of growth in the last year than any two other departments combined.

'End of January,' she said. 'That means we need samples painted and photographed by mid-month.' She lit up. 'Can we do another spa weekend before Christmas to write copy? I loved that last year.'

They had driven an hour inland to Weymouth Farm. The spa there had a reciprocal arrangement whereby Perry & Cass would provide them with PC bath soaps and gels in exchange for free use of vacant rooms.

'I may have trouble with that,' Kate hedged. 'My Percy State four have finals then. They'll need extra care.'

Sunny shook her head. 'Dan has every weekend between now and Christmas planned.'

Susan was silent. In another month, Lily would be showing. Word might be out. Pam might hate them for not telling her sooner. Worse, Abby herself might be pregnant, in which case Susan would feel doubly guilty.

But Pam looked so eager that Susan dredged up her only excuse. 'Rick may be coming,' she said apologetically. 'He's waiting to see how his assignments pan out for December. Until he knows, I don't dare commit.'

Pam was crestfallen. 'What fun are you guys?' she pouted. 'So I have to settle for Saturdays here? What are we doing this week?'

'Tagging skeins,' Kate answered. 'And looking at Susan's magic notebook to see the colors she's picked.'

'Bring your WIP,' Susan told Pam, referring to her work in progress, a cashmere sweater coat that only Pam had the time-or money-to tackle. 'How's it coming?'

'The back's almost done. The yarn is exquisite. We need to add cashmere to our line.'

'Too expensive,' Sunny warned.

'But wouldn't you love to have it in the store?' Pam asked.

'For me? Yes. I just don't know how many people off the tour bus will buy cashmere.'

'Maybe not tourists, but diehard yarnies? Online buyers? Bloggers have asked for it.' She looked at the others. 'A cashmere shrug or a lace-weight scarf would be perfect for spring. Can I research where to buy it undyed?'

'Sure.'

'Definitely.'

'Great,' Pam said. 'Let's talk more on Saturday. And on Sunday,' she added, turning to Sunny. 'What time did you want us?'

Brunch at eleven, Susan thought. It was Dan's birthday.

'Actually, Dan changed his mind,' Sunny said, looking pinched. 'All he wants is a quiet breakfast. He's feeling old.'

Dan was turning forty-three, not old by any standards.

It wasn't age, Susan realized. He blames us, too.

Sunny didn't make it to the barn on Saturday morning, and, given that she was their ear to the ground when it came to Perry & Cass customers, Susan was hesitant to discuss colors without her. Fortunately, Pam didn't stay long anyway, so they spent the time alternately affixing tags to skeins and admiring the sweater Pam was knitting. The minute she left, though, Susan said guiltily, 'That was bad. We have to tell her.'

'How can we?' Kate argued and ran through the arguments about loyalty to the girls.

'But if we can save Pam from facing this-'

'Abby'll do it anyway.'

'Maybe not if Pam gets to her first. What if I made her swear not to tell the world?' Susan tried.

'And you trust she wouldn't?'

No. Susan did not. Pam wouldn't tell anyone intentionally, but she was so desperate to be relevant that it might just spill out. 'The problem,' Susan said, making her final argument, 'is that she'll find out sooner or later, and when she does, she'll be hurt.'

'She'll understand.'

'And in the meanwhile, we have to suffer through Saturday mornings like this one? I don't know if I can do that, Kate. It's bad enough that I'm not calling Rick, but Lily wants to wait. Am I using her as an excuse? I'm such a coward.'

Kate put a comforting hand on her arm. 'You are not a coward. You're respecting Lily and Mary Kate and Jess by not telling Pam. Besides, there's a reason why Lily wants to wait to tell Rick. The first trimester is crucial. What if she miscarries?'

Lily didn't miscarry. She passed most of the next week as she had the eleven previous-going to school with no one the wiser, falling asleep at night with her books open and waking later to study, texting often with Mary Kate and Jess, though Jess was at their house more now, escaping her own.

Susan struggled to come to terms with her daughter's condition. She alternately obsessed over Lily's future and refused to think about it, but all the while, there was a pain in her gut. She felt betrayed.

Naturally, Lily sensed it, which perhaps explained why her morning sickness continued. At least, that was what Susan concluded guiltily when she got a call from the school clinic on Thursday morning. Leaving a meeting in the center of town, she quickly headed there.

Chapter 5

The clinic was in the basement of the school. Susan's preference had been for something more open and bright, but with so little available space, the basement was a necessary concession. Its proximity to the locker rooms was a plus; sports injuries were a fact of life in a school that fielded fiercely competitive teams. A direct entrance to the back parking lot also helped when a communicable disease was involved.

Using that back entrance now, Susan passed two students at the nurse's desk and checked the cubicles. She found Lily on a bed in the third cubicle, looking pathetically young. Her knees were bent. One hand lay over her middle, her other arm covered her eyes.

'Sweetie?'

Lily moved her arm and, seeing Susan, immediately teared up. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered.

One look at her and Susan's heart melted. 'What happened?'

The words came in a breathy rush. 'I was feeling sick, so I went to my locker for crackers, and Abby was there and announced, I mean, in a big, loud voice, that what did I expect, being pregnant. It was a nightmare, Mom. There were kids everywhere, and they all stopped walking and stared. I wanted to tell them she was wrong, only I couldn't. I was so upset-I mean, how could Abby do that? I've never actually thrown up before, but I did it then, in front of everyone.'

She looked green enough to do it again, but Susan didn't care. Sitting on the edge of the gurney, she pulled her into her arms. Lily was going through what she personally knew was trial by fire. A good mother didn't feel anger toward her child when she was in this kind of pain.

Besides, Susan blamed herself as much as Abby. She had been distant and cool when her daughter needed support. Rocking gently, with her chin on Lily's head, she tried to think.

Just then the nurse opened the curtain. Amy Sheehan was in her mid-thirties, attractive in sweater and jeans, and soft-spoken. Eminently approachable, she had been Susan's first choice for the job, no concessions there. Her