“Wow!” Carl commented at length.
“It normally takes weeks for commercial genetic DNA companies to process samples,” she explained. “I had to make it an emergency situation.”
“I understand,” Carl said. “And it certainly worked, considering what was accomplished in so little time.”
“There was luck involved,” Aria said. “It all depended on relatives having joined the genetic DNA bandwagon on both sides of the missing father’s ancestry.”
“I understand,” he said. “Paul will be interested to hear that GenealogyDNA is not aware of the real-life story involved here, which was his only concern. What that means is that he will get us in short order the name of the adoptive parents.”
“Good,” Aria said.
“I think it’s more than good,” Carl said. “In fact, I think it calls for a celebration. And to that end I’ve come prepared.” He moved the shopping bag he’d brought closer and proceeded to extract two cut-crystal, fluted champagne glasses, which he placed on the table, one directly in front of her and the other in front of himself. Next, he pulled out a wine bottle nestled in an insulated sleeve.
“Do you like prosecco?” he asked.
“I like it okay,” Aria said as she watched these unexpected preparations. Normally she didn’t like people doing her favors, particularly men, because she always thought they wanted something in return. But on this occasion, she was comfortable with it as there was reason to celebrate.
With a flourish as if he were a sommelier, Carl pulled the chilled bottle from its insulated covering and presented it for Aria’s appreciation. “It’s called Bortolomiol Filanda Rosé. I don’t have any idea why it’s called Filanda, which sounds like Finland, because the vintner is from the Veneto region of Italy. What I do know is that it is terrific prosecco.” He untwisted the wire cap and then removed the lead covering. He carefully dropped both back into the shopping bag. He then loosened the cork and allowed some of the contained gas to escape before a final explosive pop.
“Okay,” he said. He leaned forward and filled her glass first with the effervescent wine and then his. Putting down the bottle, he lifted Aria’s glass and extended it to her, then picked up his own. “Cheers, and once again, great job!”
Aria took the glass, clinked it with his that he had outstretched, and took a sip.
Carl hesitated, watching her. “What do you think?” he said. “How is it?”
“It’s all right,” she said. Actually, it was tasty, and it was a pleasant shade of pink, to boot.
“To me it is the best one I have ever had,” Carl said. “And I’ve hada lot of prosecco because I’m not a champagne fan. Even the best champagne doesn’t do much for me, whereas a nice prosecco is like a bit of summer in a bottle.”
Aria took another drink, with more volume. After the marked ups and downs of the day, it was a pleasure to feel the wine’s effervescence in her mouth along with its subtle taste. Whether it was more suggestion or reality, it did seem to have more flavor than the prosecco she’d had at Nobu, making her wonder if it was because it was rosé or because she was in a different frame of mind. When she’d been at the bar in Nobu, she’d just had two disheartening conversations, first with Madison Bryant and then with Evelyn Mabry. Both of those talks had made her feel that she’d already hit up against a dead-end of finding the fetus’s father. In contrast, she was now enjoying the high of success.
“Don’t hold back,” he said. “We have a whole bottle.” He was already pouring himself more. He then gestured toward Aria with it, and she allowed him to top off her glass.
“How did you come up with the clever idea of using genetic genealogy to find the father?” Carl asked.
“It was Madison Bryant’s idea,” she admitted. “It wouldn’t have occurred to me because I thought you had to have an individual’s DNA if the process was going to help find someone.”
“That was my understanding, too,” Carl said. “That’s interesting you got to talk with Madison Bryant. Was that after you and I spoke when she was in the Bellevue ICU?”
“No, it was the night before,” Aria said. She took yet another healthy drink while settling back comfortably into the club chair as if it were enveloping her. The wine was providing her with a wonderfully relaxing sensation, as if there was a sudden increase in the force of gravity. All at once the idea of going to bed sounded immensely appealing.
“That means you saw Madison Bryant after you and I talked inmy office,” he said. “My, my, you were motivated, which begs the question...”
Once again Aria took an ample drink of her pleasantly bubbly wine, and as she swallowed, she felt a new sensation. Suddenly a dizziness spread through her that wasn’t so pleasant. At the same time Carl’s words seemed to have no meaning. She could see he was still speaking, and she heard the words, but they made no sense. Then her vision blurred. Blinking repeatedly in an effort to clear her vision, she put her glass down on the coffee table and in a mounting panic, tried to stand.
“What’s the matter?” he questioned. He moved to the edge of the couch and reached toward her with his hand. He was afraid she was about to pitch forward and fall out of the chair.
“I need...” she mumbled, but she didn’t finish her sentence. In slow motion, she sagged to the side and would have tumbled from the chair had Carl not stood up and eased her back against the rear cushion. Then he got out a pair of surgical gloves and put them on.
CHAPTER 34
May 11th
5:45A.M.
Jack had been awake for almost an hour but hadn’t moved while he worried about the coming day. The moment it was apparent that the sun had risen, he slipped out of the bed, being careful to avoid allowing the mattress to spring back suddenly into position after being relieved of his muscular 168 pounds. He’d made that mistake before, almost causing Laurie to be catapulted out on her side. On this particular morning, Jack certainly did not want to wake her in hopes that she could sleep as long as possible. With the anticipation of general anesthesia sometime after noon, she wouldn’t be able to eat or drink anything but water.
For a few moments he merely looked at her. She was on her side, facing him with her head framed by her rich auburn hair. He knew she’d taken a zolpidem sleeping pill the night before, and on the rare occasions she did, she was able to sleep a surprisingly long time. He hoped the biopsy would prove to be negative and her operation wouldgo smoothly. He still wished it was he who was having the surgery because worrying about Laurie was going to make it hard to get through the day. Knowing himself, he knew that the best way was to bury himself in work.
