"I've decided what we should do," Peter Van Husen told his wife Chelsea. "I think you should have the baby and give it to Mavis and me to raise."
They were sitting in Chelsea's kitchen, once Peter and Chelsea's kitchen but now Chelsea's alone. Chelsea was surprised to see that Peter looked as if he no longer belonged in the room. She had decorated with a country motif and Peter, in his cashmere sweater,fancy slacks and expensive haircut looked decidedly out of place with her chicken patterned wallpaper.
Chelsea snorted. "I'd rather leave this baby in the woods and let wolves raise it before I let that happen. Are you serious? You think I'd let you and that Jezebel raise my child? What am I supposed to do while you two are playing Mommy and Daddy? Sell Amway?"
"Chelsea, be reasonable," Peter requested. "Mavis has more money than either you or I could ever dream of having. She could give this baby an exceptional life--private schools, ivy league college, vacations in Europe-what can you offer the baby except mediocrity at best?"
Chelsea was crushed. "That 'mediocrity' was enough for you for years and years," she reminded her estranged husband. "I don't recall either of us being born with silver spoons in our mouths and we turned out all right."
"You want that for this kid--just 'all right' when we could offer him the world on a string?"
"There's more to life than money, Peter."
"I know that. I also know that being rich is way more fun than being poor. Mavis has shown me that."
Chelsea looked at Peter. Since moving in with Mavis he'd put on weight and his face was puffy, his waistline a little paunchy. The lean, handsome man she remembered was looking more and more like a gigolo with every passing week but Chelsea forgave him for that. Once he moved back in with her, the gigolo look would fade along with all of his memories of being rich and locally famous by proxy. "Mavis Schuyler will never raise my child," she said flatly. "Not that she'd ever want to. Does she even know we're pregnant?"
Peter looked pained. "You're pregnant, not me."
"Well, I didn't get in this condition by myself." Chelsea felt her face suddenly flush as she recalled the one night stand of revenge sex she'd had with Peter's co-worker. There's no way anyone could be this baby's father but Peter. What are the odds that your five minute fling resulted in mommyhood? About a zillion to one.
"What do you want from me, Chelsea? I'm not coming back."
"Then I expect you to be there for our child. Even if you don't love me anymore, you still have a responsibility, Peter."
"I know that and I plan on being there for our child. It's just that you'd make it much simpler if you'd let me raise the baby in Schuyler Manor."
"So you think you're going to be staying there for the long haul?" Chelsea questioned. "I've heard that Mavis is seeing Mario Ponti. They were seen being quite chummy while he blew out her hair."
"Who the hell is Mario Ponti?"
"Only Schuyler Square's best hairdresser."
Peter frowned. "You mean that little guy who wears the red jumpsuits? You've got to be kidding He looks like a garden gnome!"
Chelsea enjoyed watching the irritation mount in Peter's face. "Mr. Mario is quite sexy," she informed him. "All the women have crushes on him but he's no dummy. He always goes for the ones with bucks--like Mavis."
Peter got to his feet. "I can see this conversation is going nowhere fast. Think about my offer, Chelsea. It won't be on the table forever." He stomped out of the back door. From her chair, Chelsea watched as he got into his truck and roared off. Patting her slightly rounded stomach she said in a soothing voice, "Not much longer, baby, and Daddy will come back to both of us."
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