I shake my head and join Dalton as the door opens. Phil is fully dressed, as if he’d just been talking inventory with Isabel because the bedroom is a more comfortable place to do business. His fly is down, though, and the back of his hair stands on end.
“Zip up,” Dalton says as he walks past.
Phil does and then spots his glasses on the nightstand and grabs them, which is a shame, because I was going to try confirming my suspicion that the lenses are plain glass. Phil reminds me of those stock-photo pictures of young businessmen, where they stick glasses on a male model and take a picture of him with a stack of files, as if every corporate department is filled with guys who look like this.
“I was just…” Phil begins, struggling for an excuse.
“Taking Isabel’s inventory?” I say.
He actually blushes. It’s kinda cute. He’s stammering an excuse when Dalton says, “No one cares if you’re sleeping with Isabel.”
“Well, yes,” I say. “I can think of a few women—and men—who’ll be disappointed that you’ve chosen a partner. But we don’t care. It’s a long cold winter, and Isabel is a good choice to make it a little warmer.”
“Yeah,” Dalton says. “Up here relationships can get complicated. Expectations start low and soar fast. Isabel’s a safe bet. It’ll be straight sex. No danger of attachment.”
Phil checks his glasses for smudges and then puts them on. “Yes, of course. That was my thought. As much as I admire Isabel, you don’t need to worry about me forming any undue attachment.”
“I meant there’s no danger of her forming one.”
Phil goes still, and the look on his face … I could say something, smooth over Dalton’s bluntness. Once upon a time, I would have. Now, well, Phil will get over it, and if this makes him work harder to win Isabel’s favor, she’ll appreciate that.
“So, we’re back early,” I say.
“Yes, that’s right,” Phil says, adjusting his glasses. “You are. What happened?”
“We have a baby.”
Phil blinks. “You’re having…”
“Already have one. She’s at the clinic.”
More blinking. Dalton’s lips twitch as he leans against the wall to enjoy the fun.
“She…?” Phil says. “You had a … baby?”
“No, we have a baby. Rockton does.”
“I…” Phil sits on the bed. “I don’t … understand.”
“I found an infant,” I say. “She was with a woman who I presumed was her mother. That woman was dead. The baby was buried under the snow with the body. There was no one around, so I had to bring her back. She’s at the clinic.”
It takes a moment for his brain to assimilate this new information. Then he says, “We are not equipped to handle a baby, Casey.”
“No shit,” Dalton says. “That’s why we’re talking to you. We need supplies.”
I hold up my hand. “We are well aware that this isn’t an abandoned puppy. We aren’t adopting her. First thing tomorrow, we’re heading out to find her family. Given the vastness of this wilderness—and the fact it’s winter—that might take a while. It’s not like we can go on TV and announce we found a child. The plan is to go to the First Settlement. If they can’t help, we’ll need baby supplies while we continue looking for her family. So this visit is partly to ask—”
“Inform,” Dalton says.
“Yes, inform you that we may be making an unexpected supply run. That’s a given. The ‘ask’ part was me suggesting that we use the run to treat residents to some extras for the holidays, since we’d be going to Dawson and only bringing back diapers, formula, and whatever.”
“It’s been a shitty year, and they deserve a good holiday,” Dalton says. “So we’re requisitioning—”
“Asking for extra funds to do that. We’ll even say you suggested it, if you’d like. You can be Santa this year.”
“Thank you,” Phil says dryly, but I know I’ve spun this the right way. Phil is a shrewd businessman, and this is a wise investment toward cementing his local reputation.
I continue, “We also need you to speak to the council. Tell them we have a baby. Explain the situation. Give them no opportunity to later rap our knuckles for covering this up. Even they can’t argue that we should have left an infant in the forest.”