Free For the Love of Pete by Julia Harper Page B

asked indignantly. “Have you no sense, Pratima?”
    “I have sense enough to know we cannot keep these babies.”
    “If your sense was so wonderful, would we have stolen the yellow Humvee in the first place?”
    “Pardon me, Savita-di, but the plan to steal the Humvee was yours, if you will recall.”
    “Ah!” Savita-di cried as if pinched. “Always you blame me! But what else can I expect from a woman who would flirt with her husband’s brother?”
    The babies had looked up at the sound of raised voices, and even Abdul stared, puzzled, from his tattered chair. Pratima pursed her lips shut. This was a very old, very painful argument, and one which both Gupta ladies usually avoided at all costs. Savita-di must be frightened indeed to bring it up now.
    Pratima inhaled deeply. “What do you suggest we do with these babies, then, Savita-di?”
    “I do not know!” Savita-di threw up her arms.
    “We cannot leave them with Abdul.”
    Both ladies watched as the elderly man giggled and poked a bony finger into the baby boy’s soft arm.
    “Nooo,” agreed Savita-di.
    “Your daughter Vinati will not be back from her wonderful vacation in Disney World for another week. And I do not think it wise to consult Saumya about this business, at least not yet. Remember, she was quite rude when we asked for the loan of her extra car.”
    “Hmm. And we’ve left the car at that petrol pump,” Savita-di mused. “No, no, best not to ask Saumya. Or my nephew Karan, for that matter.”
    Pratima pursed her lips judiciously. “In fact, I think all the nephews and nieces are far too busy for this matter.”
    “Very true, very true, Pratima,” Savita-di muttered. “Best not to bother the nieces and nephews.”
    Both ladies stared at the babies for a moment. Pratima felt weary to her bones. It had been a long day, first planning to steal back their kesar, then the actual theft, and then the unpleasant surprise that they’d stolen two babies, as well. She sighed and drew the thin cloth of her sari over her arm. Really, she wasn’t as young as she used to be.
    Next to her, Savita-di sighed, as well, and spoke. “But maybe there is one nephew whom we might contact.”

Chapter Twelve
    Thursday, 8:49 p.m.
    F or a chick who worked in a health-food co-op, Zoey sure liked her junk food.
    “Oh, my God! I’d forgotten how good these were!” she mumbled through a mouthful of ButterBurger. “I used to get these when I was a teenager—Culver’s was the only burger place I could bike to—and then I found how much fat was in one and quit.”
    They were eating in the car, which was parked in a dark lot in front of a bakery. There was a neon CLOSED sign over the bakery door, and a glow showed through the plate-glass windows—probably some kind of security light. Actually, it just now occurred to him that it was kind of romantic out here. Dante glanced at Zoey and wondered if the thought had occurred to her, too. Probably not. Most people didn’t think running for their lives was all that romantic.
    He sighed, took a bite of his Bacon ButterBurger Deluxe with extra cheese, and considered her last statement. “Just how much fat is there in these things?”
    Zoey shook her head sagely, her mouth full. She swallowed and took a long draw from her milkshake. “You don’t want to know. It’s unbelievable, but junk food was such forbidden fruit when I was a teenager.”
    “Why?”
    “Mom was way into whole foods.”
    He crumpled a napkin. “So where exactly did you grow up?”
    “Big farm.” She waved a hand as if conjuring the immensity of the space inside the BMW. “Out in the middle of nowhere, Indiana.”
    “But you had a Culver’s within biking distance?”
    “Thank God.” She swirled a french fry in ketchup and ate it. “My mom was the last of the back-to-earth hippies, only they didn’t call themselves hippies by the time she started. Anyway, we raised most of our food ourselves.”
    “Yeah?” He could totally see her as a