Page 68 of No Offense

“All of that will be here when you get back. We did get along here before you came, you know.”

This was true.

She glanced at her desk phone, remembering what John had said to her the night before about Tabitha.You don’t know anything about her.

Maybe she needed to remedy that.

“Well... I could just take the morning off,” Molly said, reaching inside her desk drawer for her purse. “I could come back later this afternoon.”

“If you’re feeling better,” Phyllis said.

Molly had already leaped to her feet. “If I’m feeling better, of course. Thank you, Phyllis.”

“The Complete Poetryof Maya Angelou,” Phyllis called after her, as Molly was hurrying away.

This froze Molly in her tracks. Slowly, she turned around. “I’m sorry, Phyllis. What did you say?”

“The Complete Poetryof Maya Angelou,” Phyllis repeated. “That’s what I’d bring for the girl to read. She’s a new mother, so—assuming she’s keeping the baby—won’t have a lot of time to read. But she might be able to snatch a poem here and there. And Maya Angelou hits the spot for just about everyone.”

Molly, feeling a little ashamed for not having thought of this herself, nodded. “Of course. And I should bring something for her to read to the baby. It’s never too early to start reading to a child.” Then she smiled at the older woman. “How did you know I was heading to the hospital?”

“Oh, my dear.” Phyllis shook her head as she pushed herself from the tiny chair. “You are more Harry Potter than Proust—not precisely difficult to read.”

Molly wasn’t certain if she should feel insulted or flattered by this, but chose to feel flattered.

She had to take a ride-share service to the hospital because it was too far away to walk or bicycle to. She half expected to be turned away when she asked for Tabitha Brighton’s room—she wasn’t family, after all—but the kindly volunteer at the information desk looked up the room number and gave it to Molly after asking who she was and carefully checking her ID. Apparently Molly was on some kind of list of approved visitors—or rather, was neither Dylan Dakotanor a member of the press, so was allowed to roam the halls of the hospital freely.

She found Tabitha’s second-floor room with ease and was about to enter without knocking (since the door was wide open) when she saw that Tabitha was nursing. An RN stood beside her, looking down on Baby Aphrodite’s little dark head and murmuring, “There. There, see? You’ve got it. I told you that you’d get it.”

Molly paused on the threshold, pleased to see both mother and baby looking so well, especially considering the condition they’d been in the last time she saw them.

Now they each had a rosy flush to their cheeks, and Tabitha was smiling, her eyes bright. Molly couldn’t see the baby’s eyes because her head was turned away from her, but she supposed they’d be as shiny as her mother’s.

Feeling like an interloper, she raised her hand and knocked softly on the doorjamb. When both Tabitha and the nurse looked up in surprise, having been completely absorbed in their task, Molly said, softly, “Hello. Sorry to interrupt. It’s just me, Molly Montgomery, the children’s librarian? I hope you don’t mind, but I got your message and I thought I’d stop by to see how you were doing. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

Tabitha’s face changed as Molly revealed who she was. Of course she hadn’t recognized her—how could she? She didn’t remember that dreadful time in the library—or hopefully didn’t—so she’d been regarding Molly distrustfully. But now she relaxed.

“Oh, hi,” Tabitha said. “I thought you were the social worker for a second. They’ve been threatening to send her up here all day.”

Molly was a little confused—what was so wrong with social workers? But then the nurse said, “Now, then, Tabitha, we only want to make sure you and your baby have bonded, and that you have somewhere safe to go when you get discharged.”

“Of course we’ve bonded,” Tabitha said in a gently scoffing tone. “Look at us!”

It was true that Baby Aphrodite was snuggled very close to her mother, and seemed to have a voracious appetite. Molly could hear the hungry little slurping sounds from where she was standing in the doorway.

“So,” she said, hesitating to come into the room since she hadn’t exactly been invited, “you’re keeping her?”

Tabitha looked shocked. “Of course I’m keeping her! Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

Molly felt like this response was invitation enough to enter the room. She did so, placing her purse and tote bag on the floor and taking a seat in the visitor’s chair, which was beside the girl’s hospital bed.

“Well, only because someone left her in my library,” Molly said. “Have you figured out yet who might have done that?”

Tabitha rolled her eyes. “Well, the cops keep saying it was my boyfriend. But I know he’d never do anything like that.”

“Hmmm,” Molly replied, noncommittally. “Well, the police can be wrong.”

“Right? I mean, why would my boyfriend do that to his own baby?”