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“Sunday-go-to-church” dress; immaculate, every blond hair in place. The girl seemed like a compromise between the two, sporting a white shirt and khaki shorts. But she looked a bit haggard and bloated. Her brown hair was pulled back in a limp ponytail. Carl couldn’t quite see the baby’s face.
    He put on his sunglasses as they approached the gate area. It had been almost a month since seeing Paul McMurray at the hospital; still, he thought he might be recognized.
    â€œHey, would ya take him for a minute, hon?” McMurray said. He unloaded the baby into his wife’s arms. Then he pulled a thin paper bag from under the front of his T-shirt. “Lauraine, I got you a going-away present.”
    â€œOh, Paul, how thoughtful,” she said. “You shouldn’t have.”
    Carl saw what McMurray pulled out of the paper bag. It was a bumper sticker that said, “FOXY GRANDMA.”
    The blond lady’s smile seemed to lock on her face. “Well, my, isn’t that sweet? ” She almost sounded sincere. She kissed his cheek, then examined the sign again, a trace of mystification in her eyes. “Um, I—think I’ll frame it…”
    â€œYou don’t frame it, Lauraine.” He laughed. “It’s for the back of your car. Even glows in the dark.”
    The girl giggled and said how cute it was, but Carl detected a desperation in her enthusiasm—as if she’d support her husband to the point of embarrassment.
    They turned and started to move away. Carl could no longer hear them, but he finally got a look at the baby’s face. The beautiful, little golden-haired boy seemed to peer back at him from behind the girl’s shoulder. His tiny hand stretched out. He’s reaching toward me , Carl thought; he wants me to take him .
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    â€œWould you like my nuts?”
    She looked up from her book, the bumper sticker inserted in the back pages. “Beg your pardon?”
    Carl showed her the packet of peanuts. “Would you like these? I’m not going to eat them.”
    Setting the book in her lap, she took the foil packet. “Well, thank you.”
    He smiled. “Do you live in Chicago?”
    She nodded. “I was in Portland visiting my daughter and son-in-law and my new grandchild.”
    â€œI bet you took a ton of pictures of him while you were there,” Carl said, hoping to see some photos.
    â€œI was just about to tell you it was a boy.” Mrs. Sheehan gave him a puzzled smile. “How did you know?”
    â€œDidn’t you just say you were visiting your grandson?” he asked. But she’d said “grand child .” He wanted to kick himself for slipping like that.
    She shrugged and nibbled on a peanut. “I must have…”
    â€œDid you take any pictures?” Carl realized how pushy he sounded, and quickly explained: “My folks could have filled a whole album with the pictures they took of my little boy. During a one-week visit, they must have gone through ten rolls of film.”
    â€œYou’re married?” She glanced at his left hand.
    He’d taken off his wedding ring three weeks ago, when Jerry had filed the divorce petition and Eve’s calls to the office had stopped. “Um, I’m a widower,” he said.
    â€œHow awful,” she said. Then Mrs. Sheehan blushed and shook her head. “I’m sorry. What I mean is that you seem so young…”
    â€œOh, I’m thirty-nine.”
    â€œReally? I thought you were my son-in-law’s age. He’s twenty-seven. In fact, you look very much like him.”
    Carl didn’t appreciate the comparison as much as he did her estimation of his age. “Do I?” he said. “I’d like to see what he looks like. Do you have a picture of him?”
    â€œNot with me, but I do have one of my grandson,” she said, reaching under the seat in front for her purse. “His name is Edward. He’s