"No immediate plans," I said, immediately wondering how I could swing it. "But you never know."
I wasn't entirely sure how to approach Steve anymore. There was something about the abrupt way he took off that left things up in the air. A tiny sliver of uneasiness was slipping into my head-over-heels trust, the camel's nose under the tent.
"First the good news," I declared. "David's talking to Orion about a theatrical release for Baby Love."
Steve knew how deeply I longed for a theatrical—it would be my first—and he enthused appropriately. But he also knew I wouldn't call him early Sunday morning just to tell him that. There was only one other thing that would inspire such an unsocialized act.
"Uh, should I be asking how the other baby project is going?" he said.
For a moment I wasn't sure what to say, since I didn't really even know myself.
"Still a work in progress," I said finally. Then; "Honey, I've just been to see a doctor who's . . . well, he's a little unconventional. And nervous-making. But everything else has failed."
Whereupon I gave him a quick, cell-phone summary of what I'd just been through at Quetzal Manor.
"So are you going to go back eventually?" He sounded uneasy. "For the full 'program'?"
He had a way of zeroing in on essentials. The truth was, my baby hopes and my sense of self-preservation were at war with each other. . . .