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become childless. Kids had been Edith’s life for virtually their entire marriage. They were the only thing she was interested in talking about. Children were her calling, her mission. Peter asked Kimball and Drummond to give him and Edith a few moments alone. He suggested that perhaps they’d like to go downstairs and see his workshop. They quickly complied.
    “Edith, is this what you really want?”
    “He’s so adorable. Look at those eyes. Look how alert he is. Look at those hands and feet. He’s perfect, Pete. We can’t turn him away.”
    “Haven’t we had our fill, honey? And diapers and toilet training. Geez, Edith we’re too old for this.”
    “I promise you. He’s the last one. He’ll be our lucky thirteen. You won’t even know he’s here. I’ll do all the heavy lifting. You’ll see. We won’t be sorry.”
    Peter paced around the living room and then settled into his favorite chair facing out to the front yard. He was silent and just gazed out the window. Then he got up and walked over to Edith. ”We’ll try this out but only because I can see if we don’t, you’ll never forgive me. But at the first hint of trouble—that something’s wrong with him—out he goes. I’m not getting involved in a melodrama with this kid. I’m doing this against my better judgment. So first sign of a problem—we’re done. Is that a deal?”
    “It’s a deal.”
    “I’m asking you to promise me, Edith. Do we have an understanding between us here?”
    “Yes, we do. Now let’s tell them,” Edith replied excitedly.
    Peter called down to the basement, and Kimball and Drummond came upstairs. Edith’s voice sounded years younger and her smile almost touched her ears. “Ms. Kimball—how long will it take for you to do the paperwork? I think we still have a crib and a lot of other baby stuff packed away in the basement.”
    Kimball’s eyes closed as if she were in prayer. “You two are my angels. God bless you both. What you are doing is…” Her voice broke and her words stopped. She stretched out her arms to their full length as she walked over to the couple. She hugged Edith, who was still holding the infant, and then she hugged Peter. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
    Dr. Drummond said, “Congratulations. I know you won’t be sorry. I have a sixth sense about babies. I’ve seen enough of them that’s for sure.”
    Kimball took 2764 in her arms. “I’ll be back with the paperwork tomorrow. Will that give you enough time to put the nursery together?”
    “Yes it will,” replied Edith, as her eyes commanded Peter to get started on the job immediately.
    As Kimball and Drummond were halfway down the path to their car, she turned and shouted back to Edith, “And don’t forget; you have to think of a name for him so we can put it in the documents.”
    When the car pulled away from the curb, Peter muttered under his breath, “Here we go again.”
    “What should we name him? I want it to be something special,” said Edith.
    All of the twelve kids that they had raised had come to them with names. 2764 was the first child that they would have the privilege of naming. Edith knew that Peter had always wanted a son to be named after him, but given Peter’s expressed reservations about 2764, on reflection she decided against that. The person she had always wanted to memorialize with a son of her own was her older brother, Robert, who had been killed in Vietnam at 19 years of age.
    To Peter, the name James was special. He had first become enamored of it as a boy, voraciously reading Ian Fleming novels. “James” signified everything in life that Peter had fantasized about: an exciting career, sophistication, world travel, glamour, being a hero and an indisputable winner. James. That was the name for this infant who had had no luck so far. And so, when Edith and Peter sat down at the kitchen table to eat their roast chicken dinner, it was soon decided. The baby’s name would be Robert James. Robert