Catch of the Day (Gideon's Cove #1)(82)

“Forget it,” Malone says, and he turns his back on me.

“MAGGIE, I really need to see you.” Chantal’s voice is grim, and I wish I hadn’t snatched up the phone. Of course, I’m at Joe’s, and I don’t exactly screen calls here. “I know you’ve been busy, but I have to talk to you.”

I heave a sigh that could propel a sailboat to Deer Isle. “Yeah. Fine.” I glance around the diner, which is sparkling clean at the moment. Six pies are in the oven for tomorrow, lunchtime is over, and despite my best efforts, I’ve run out of excuses. “Well, I’m free tonight.”

And every night, now that I mention it. There has been no word from Father Tim, not even his usual calls for help on some committee. There’s got to be a significance to this, I think. I’ve stopped going to Bible study, and aside from Mr. Barkham’s funeral last week, I haven’t seen Father Tim since I pretended to be my sister nearly two weeks ago.

“Can you come over?” Chantal asks. “Actually, this place is a dump. Can I come over to your place?”

“Sure. Come around eight.” I certainly am not going to cook for her. She’s been to the diner twice, but both times I leapt to the grill and asked Judy to wait on her, waving and pretending to be swamped with myriad duties. When she’s asked to get together at night, I’ve put her off three times. I can’t avoid her forever.

At least she doesn’t know about Malone and me, so I don’t have to suffer that particular embarrassment. Then again, he may well have told her. At any rate, they don’t know that I know what I know. She can just tell me her big news and I’ll pretend to be stunned. I practice gasping a few times in the mirror, but my face looks too sad.

When Chantal knocks on my door, an unwilling flare of sympathy goes off in my stony heart. Her face is gaunt and pale, circles smudging under her eyes. She looks thin, and I wonder if she’s even still pregnant. I don’t have to wonder for long.

“So. How have you been?” she asks, sitting on the couch. She grabs a throw pillow and hugs it protectively to her stomach.

“I’m fine. Would you like a glass of wine or anything?” I ask automatically.

“No. Sit down, Maggie, okay? We need to talk.”

I sit stiffly in the club chair, rubbing a healing burn on my index finger. Chantal, as I have noted on many occasions, has lovely hands, plump and pretty with rounded nails that are always painted with clear polish. Malone may have said I don’t have ugly hands, but compared with Chantal’s…

“Maggie, I have something to tell you, and you’re going to be shocked,” Chantal says. I have always admired her bluntness.

“Okay,” I say, forcing myself to look at her.

“I’m pregnant,” she says in a low voice.

I don’t gasp, but even though I knew what she was going to say, my stomach aches. “Really,” I say.

Her face is tormented. “Yeah.”

“Wow. So who’s the father?” I ask cruelly. “Do you know?”

Her mouth drops open. “Um…yeah, I know.”

“And what did he say?” My voice is hard, my posture painfully erect.

“Well, he’s…he’s not really in the picture. I’m gonna have the baby on my own.”

Now I do gasp. “Really?”

This is a huge surprise—Chantal has made no secret of lusting after Malone. Images of Malone’s daughter, the round-cheeked little girl in the photos at his house, flash through my head. The one time I saw him with her—if that really was his daughter, that is—he looked happy. He’d been smiling. I can’t believe he wouldn’t care.

Chantal toys with the fringe on the pillow, not meeting my eyes. “Yeah. So. Just me.”

“But…I can’t believe he doesn’t…that he’s not…” I swallow hard. “What did he say?”

Chantal’s eyes shine with tears. “The truth is, Maggie, I’m not going to tell him. It was a one-night stand, and I really don’t want to ruin his life by dumping this on him.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” I blurt. “You didn’t tell him? What about—” Yes, and how does one confess that one was spying? “I thought—I’d think—”

“Look. It was stupid. A bad mistake, and I’m paying for it, aren’t I?”

My mouth is still hanging open. “Why do you think he wouldn’t want a baby?” I manage to ask.

“Because I just know.” Her tears spill over, and she sags back against the couch.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Chantal…” I sit next to her and pat her leg. “Listen, I know who it is.”

“Oh, my God, you do?” She sits bolt upright and looks at me in horror, a hand covering her mouth.

“Yeah. I overheard. At Malone’s.” A lump rises in my own throat. “And…I actually think he’d make a good father, to tell you the truth.”

“Oh, Maggie, I’m so sorry!” she blurts, bursting into sobs. “You won’t tell him, will you?” she pleads. “Don’t tell him, Maggie, please.”

“Well, honey, he already knows,” I say, confused. “I mean, you told him.”

“No. I just told you, I didn’t. And I’m not going to.” She seems to deflate in front of my eyes. “I already screwed up. I’m not going to wreck his life, too, and this would—”