What to tell Robbie? She needed time to think.

"If I told anyone," she finally said, "I'd tell you. Next to Mary Kate and Jess, you're my oldest friend." Since they were six. It was poetic.

No, she had no regrets about Robbie. Abby, yes. But not Robbie. He was loyal. If she did need help, he would be there.

That thought brought little comfort as she dressed for school the next morning. Mary Kate and Jess would help out if questions got bad, but she felt best when she thought of her mom. Susan had done it, and look at her. She was educated. She was successful. And she had Lily to show for it.

Standing at the mirror, dressed in slim-as-ever jeans, Lily touched the place where she guessed her baby to be and whispered, "You're mine, sweet thing. I'll take care of you. Let people talk. We don't care. We have something special, you and me. And we have my mom and my dad. They're gonna love you to bits. Trust me on that."

At school there were few questions, just stares.

Her mother wasn't so lucky.

Chapter 6

Susan was on the phone with a headhunter, whom she hoped would locate a replacement for the retiring director of athletics, when Pam showed up at the door and, none too softly, said, "What did I just hear?"

Finger to her lips, Susan waved her in. "Yes, Tom. Male or female. Our current AD coaches football, but that isn't a prerequisite. My priorities are administrative experience and the ability to work well with kids."

"Susan," Pam whispered urgently as she closed the door, "what did I hear?"

Susan gestured her to a chair and held up a hand for the minute it took to finish the call.

Pam didn't wait a second longer. The phone was barely in its cradle when she said, "Word's going around that Lily's pregnant. I've had three calls this morning-three moms asking me the same thing-and I couldn't answer, even though I'm your friend, which was one of the reasons they were calling me. I couldn't even call Abby, because you don't allow kids to use phones during school. Is it true?"

Pam was a Perry by marriage and, as such, a member of the town's royalty, but she didn't often pull rank. Susan wasn't sure what she heard in Pam's voice-whether it was arrogance, indignation, or hurt-but she felt a quick anger. There would have been no calls, no questions had it not been for Pam's own daughter.

But Lily would still be pregnant. Resigned, Susan nodded.

"How?" Pam asked in dismay. It was a silly question. Susan's expression must have said as much, because her friend hurried on. "Who?"

Susan shrugged and shook her head.

Pam was sitting on the edge of the seat, her cardigan open, a paisley scarf knotted artfully about her neck. "You have to know. You're just not saying."

"Pam, I don't know."

"That's impossible. You and Lily are as close as any mother and daughter I know. She must have told you she was sleeping with someone." When Susan shook her head again, Pam said, "How could you not?"

Susan was duly chastised. She had prided herself on being one better than the parent who didn't notice her Vicodin running low long before it should. It was a humbling experience.

"There comes a point," she said in her own defense, "when our children choose not to share some things."

"Some things. This is major. When did you find out?"

Unable to lie, Susan said, "Last week." It felt like years ago. She kept flashing back to Lily's conception. Even this morning, reliving her own nightmare of going to school on the day after the whole world suddenly knew, she half expected Lily to show up at her door in tears, looking for a shoulder to cry on.

But either Mary Kate and Jess were walking the halls beside her or Lily was tougher than Susan had been. And perhaps that was for the best. Lily had become pregnant by design-and in agreement with friends. She had way more to answer for than Susan had.

Pam Perry didn't know the half of it. Innocently, she exclaimed, "Last week? Omigod, Susan. This is awful. What was she thinking?" When Susan simply gave her a look, she said, "What are you going to do?"

"I'm trying to figure that out."

"She's keeping the baby? Of course she is. Lily loves kids, and there's no way you'd make her abort it. So the guy has to come forward," Pam decided. "You have to find out who he is." When Susan said nothing, she added, "Well, some guy made this happen."

"Obviously," Susan replied, "but does his name matter?"

"Absolutely."

"Wrong. It's a woman's body, a woman's baby."

"You say that because you're a single mom."

"I say it because I'm a realist," Susan insisted. "Even moms in traditional families do the brunt of the child care. The buck stops here."

"Some of us see it differently," Pam argued. "The father has to share the responsibility."

"Maybe in an ideal world," Susan conceded. "You're lucky, Pam. Not only is your husband a gem, but he's from a storied family. Perrys don't divorce, and they don't go broke. But Tanner doesn't change diapers or fold laundry or make school lunches, and that drives you nuts. Remember the time you and Tanner both had the flu? Who was crawling out of bed to take care of Abby?"

There was more to the story, of course. Pam did all of those things without complaint, though she could certainly afford a maid. But with one child and no other full-time job, these chores helped define her.

"So, basically, you're having another child yourself," Pam said. "Isn't that the bottom line?"

Susan considered it, pressed her lips together, nodded.

"You can't do that," Pam argued. "You know the work. You have a whole other job now that is very demanding."

"What would you have me do?" Susan asked. Frustrated, she rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. "She wants the baby, Pam. She's heard the heartbeat. She knows the options. She wants the baby."

"And you'll just let her have it?"

"What can I do? Put yourself in my shoes. This has happened-past tense. It's done. Maybe you can do better and talk with your daughter about not getting pregnant." There it was, the closest Susan could come to disclosing what she knew.

Pam frowned at the papers on the desk, then at Susan. "This is what you three were talking about at the barn last week. You told them. Why couldn't you tell me?"

Susan felt another stab of anger. At Lily for getting pregnant? At Abby for outing her? At Pam for playing the victim? "They already knew," she explained. "Mary Kate had told Kate, and Jess had told Sunny, but clearly Abby hadn't said anything to you, or you would have mentioned it. Has she yet?"

Pam raised her chin. "No, but she considers Lily one of her closest friends. She probably feels it wouldn't be loyal."

"Loyal? Abby was the one who shouted it all over school!" Pam looked startled, but Susan couldn't stop. If Pam wanted to be a friend, she had to hear this. "Abby blurted it out yesterday in the hall filled with kids, so maybe you should be talking with her, not with me. But those moms who called you this morning didn't tell you that, did they?"

"No," Pam said, subdued. "They heard rumors. They know we're friends, and since I'm on the school board, they thought they were killing two birds with one stone."

Susan felt a hitch at mention of the school board. It had seven members. All were elected; most had served for years. At thirty-nine, Pam was the baby of the group, elected largely because of her name. The closest to her in age was the board chair, Hillary Dunn, who was fifty-five. The other five members were men, four of whom were particularly resistant to change. Susan had had to argue for hours, working them individually and as a group, before they gave the school clinic a green light.

They would all be upset when they learned Lily was pregnant. And when they heard about the other two girls?

But first things first. Susan was tempted to ask Pam the names of those who had called, only she could guess. Zaganack was a close community. Its members had a good thing going with Perry & Cass and knew it, and while some were open to innovation, others believed that you didn't tamper with the status quo. Those were the ones who phoned Susan to complain about the slightest curriculum change. They were the ones who would have phoned Pam.

"Were they calling to complain?" Susan asked.

"Mostly to know if it was true."

"And then to complain." When Pam didn't deny it, she asked, "What did you tell them?"

"I said I'd check it out-I tried to make light of it. When all three carried on, I said that if it was true, it was a private matter. Only it isn't, Susan. This could really screw things up. For starters, there's the PC Wool Mother's Day promotion. Boy, does that take on new meaning. Lily will be big as a house."