Free A Theory of Relativity by Jacquelyn Mitchard

settled in by then.”
    Settled in, Lorraine thought?
    “I talked to Alison and Caroline, just a little,” Diane said. “You know, Caroline and her hubby don’t have any of their own yet; they’re such career kids. But Alison’s thinking it over. She’s going to talk to Andy over dinner . . .”
    “Think over what?”
    “The baby. We have to decide, not that we want to bring this up now, but, well, Lorraine, you know, I’m only in my forties, how old are you?”
    “I’m fifty-nine,” Lorraine said.
    “So, you’re almost in your sixties . . .”
    “I’m actually just turning fifty-nine, but, sure, that’s right . . .”
    “Are you retired?”

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    “I still teach. I imagine for a few more years.”
    “And Mark?”
    “I have my job at the plant. I head up the lab,” Mark said. “What I’ll do when I retire, it just doesn’t seem like such a big concern right now.
    But I’ll have to do something. Or I’ll just use myself up—”
    “Well,” Diane went on, “what we thought was, since I don’t work outside, we’ll have to think it over . . . I’m not thinking very well right now. But I do know we want Keefer to know both sides of her family.”
    “We do, too,” Lorraine agreed. “We know that’s what the kids wanted, when they wrote the will . . .” Ray and Diane exchanged glances. Or did she imagine it? “But we have to just take this one day at a time. This is all so shocking.”
    “You can’t even imagine,” Diane said. “This was my firstborn, my firstborn son.”
    “And she was our only daughter,” Mark said, “We know, Diane.
    We’ve lived with this for almost a year. Georgia was our firstborn.”
    “I thought Georgia was adopted,” Diane asked Mark.
    “She was. And she was still our firstborn.”
    “And the baby is all we have left,” Diane said.“All we have of Raymond.”
    “And Georgia,” Mark said.
    “We have to think of Baby,” Diane said.
    “I think we should leave it to the wishes of Georgia and Ray,” Mark said forcefully, with so much unaccustomed volume that Lorraine, who had lost track of the conversation after revealing her age, jumped, disturbing Keefer, who whined and shifted position.
    “Baba,” Keefer sighed.
    “She wants her juice ba, Nora.”
    “It’s right here,” Nora said, rooting in the bag. Lorraine settled Keefer, sucking, into the curve of her arm.
    “She’s back on the bottle,” Diane shook her head.
    “Just once in a while,” Lorraine hurried to explain, thinking, why should I feel guilty? “Just mainly when she goes in a car . . .”
    “Oh,” Diane said, smoothing her short, layered blond hair.

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    “I think we should leave it to Georgia and Ray, because they provided for Keefer in their wills,” Mark explained. “We have copies of them. We’ll get you copies of them.”
    “Okay,” the Nyes said, in unison, and then Diane added, “We aren’t going to go right back home. We’ll stay a few days . . . after . . . after . . .
    can you imagine this? We’re all sitting here talking about this? About Raymond? Not only Georgia?”
    “It seems impossible,” Mark said.
    “But we all want this little girl to feel all safe,” Big Ray added.
    “Can we take her now?” Diane stood up.
    “I hope she doesn’t fuss,” Lorraine said. “She’s very shy.” Diane reached out for the baby, who shuddered and then relaxed, her auburn curls damp on her forehead. Lorraine felt a pang; she did not usually think that Keefer resembled Georgia, because she was so big and so fair, but the curve of Keefer’s dangling leg was exactly Georgia’s, the strong, prominent calf muscles, the big thighs that had driven her daughter mad.
    Georgia! Lorraine thought, and the baby screamed.
    She sat up in Diane’s arms as if someone had stolen upon her and given her an injection, her mouth gaping, the tears coursing