When his mother opened the door, she had baby Grace held in the crook of one arm. A white cloth diaper was draped over her shoulder. The nipple of a small Evenflo bottle showed over the top of her housecoat pocket.
“Emma Lee says she wants daddy to tuck her in tonight.”
“No problem,” Guidice said.
When he got to the door, though, Lydia didn’t move. She just stood there, filling the frame with her considerable girth. It was her own version of passive-aggressive, putting herself in the way like a cow on the tracks. She obviously had something on her mind.
Guidice steeled his patience. It wasn’t clear yet whether his mother was going to need a little stick, or a little carrot. Maybe both.
“What is it, Mom?” he asked.
“Did you call the police yet?”
“No,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Well, I do worry about it,” she said, absently rocking the baby. “I mean . . .” Now she dropped her voice to a whisper, as if anyone else were listening. “How do you even know she’s yours?”
Guidice reached over and stroked his daughter’s rosy cheek with one finger. Her little half-lidded eyes made him smile.
“Look at her,” he said. “She looks just like me.”
“Still. This is the baby’s mother we’re talking about,” Lydia insisted.
“She was just some slut, Mom. A one-night stand.”
His mother half turned her head and held up a hand. “Too much information, thank you. I’m just saying, it’s not right what she did.”
“Exactly,” he said. “Think about it, Mom. This is someone who leaves a baby in a car with a note and walks away. Do you really want that kind of person in Grace’s life?”
Lydia held the baby a little closer. “Well, no, but—”
“That’s why we moved. I didn’t want her finding us. And frankly, I don’t want to find her, either. I say Grace deserves better than that.”
“I suppose,” Lydia answered tentatively—either because she agreed with him, or because her tenth-grade education hadn’t armed her for any kind of substantive debate in life.
“Don’t suppose, Mom. Think about it,” he told her. “Do you really want someone like that raising your granddaughter?”
“No,” she answered, more resolutely this time.
“No,” he said. “You don’t. And neither do I.”
He let it all sink in for a moment, and then softened his tone as he went on. Time for a little carrot.
“Believe me,” he said. “You’re a way better mother than she’d ever be. No contest, Mom.”
Lydia Guidice was always easily flattered. She smiled as she blushed, and then finally stepped out of the way.
“Go on,” she said. “Emma Lee’s waiting.”
Guidice kissed his mother on the cheek before he headed up the hall.
There were other solutions, of course. Lydia could be eliminated just as easily as anyone else, physically speaking. It would even be a relief to put the ultimate gag order on that incessant nagging.
But it was basically a cost-benefit situation at this point. Lydia played a vital role in the family. Like it or not, he needed her right now. It would be shortsighted to take her out just to shut her up.
No, Guidice thought. He couldn’t do that. Couldn’t even think about it.