Seven Minutes to Noon

want to help you,” Alice said softly. “Let us take care of Austin as much as you need. After school when you’re at work, evenings, weekends, anytime.”
    “Thank you,” he whispered. “I appreciate it.”
    “We’re here for you.” Mike patted Tim’s shoulder. “Anything at all, just say the word.”
    Without responding to Mike’s comment, Tim’s foggy eyes pinioned themselves to Alice’s face, as if there was something he needed to say but couldn’t. Not because he didn’t have the words, this time, but because he couldn’t bring himself to issue them. It was a strange, chilling moment in which the unbearable weight of his grief momentarily evaporated. Alice glanced from faceto face to see if anyone else had seen it. She wouldn’t have been able to explain what had happened, but something, in that moment, had changed.
    Then, finally, he spoke. “I don’t know if she told you, but it was my idea to have another baby. I wanted that little girl so badly. Now I’ll never be able to hold her in my arms.” His face grew paler as he spoke, his voice more vaporous. “I don’t know what to do.”
    Alice’s heart pounded heavily.
    That little girl.

Chapter 14
    Alice followed Frannie out of the funeral parlor onto Court Street, into a heavy rain.
    “Frannie!”
    She turned around. Her black suit was getting soaked.
    “Can I talk to you a minute?” Alice stood in a dry strip under the awning.
    Frannie nodded but stayed in the rain.
    “Come under,” Alice said. “Don’t get wet.”
    “I have to be somewhere.” Frannie hesitated. “But I guess I can take a minute.” She stepped onto the strip of dry pavement, next to Alice.
    “Did you hear that?”
    Frannie nodded. “I did.”
    “Tim didn’t want to know the baby’s sex when Lauren was—” Alice couldn’t say it.
    “Was alive,” Frannie finished the sentence.
    “He refused to know. He wanted to be surprised. Lauren would have told me if that had changed.” This was something Alice felt sure of, they had discussed Tim’s not knowing so often.
    Frannie cocked her head to the side. Her dark eyebrows clamped down. Only now did Alice notice the detective’s bright red lipstick.
    “Alice, I hate to say this, but don’t you think it’s possible there are things about your friend’s life you didn’t know?”
    “No,” Alice answered, realizing her absurdity even as she spoke. “It isn’t possible.”
    “Alice...” Frannie shook her head, gently touching Alice’s arm.
    “Lauren said that only Maggie and I and Dr. Rose, her obstetrician, knew the baby’s sex and her name. The doctor promised not to tell Tim.”
    Frannie was listening. “And?”
    “I don’t think Dr. Rose told Tim about the baby being a girl,” Alice said, “and I don’t think she told him Ivy’s name. And neither did you. You never told him the baby was a girl, Frannie, did you?”
    Frannie’s face was stony, pale. Alice knew she was getting somewhere.
    “The doctor didn’t tell him anything. If she had, she would have also told him the baby’s name. He would have used Ivy’s name just now,” Alice said.
    “How do you know that, Alice? There really isn’t any way to know that.”
    The funeral parlor door creaked open. Alice glanced behind her to see Lizzie standing in the door and felt herself shivering again, suffocating almost. She took a deep breath.
    “It’s just a feeling, I guess,” Alice said.
    “I thought Tim was your friend.”
    “He was. I mean he is .”
    “Then why the misgivings?” It was a strange question coming from a detective. But Frannie always somehow derailed Alice’s expectations, reminding her she had no reason to expect anything in particular.
    “When he said that just now,” Alice answered, “how he wanted his little girl, it just hit me. And now I need to know.”
    “Okay.” Frannie lightly touched Alice’s shoulder. “I’ll ask Dr. Rose. I’ll see what I can find out.”
    “Thank you, Frannie.”
    “Now I really have to go or I’ll be late. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
    Frannie turned down Court Street, walking slowly in the rain, her heels clopping along on the wet sidewalk. Under cover of the angry clouds, the afternoon was darkening prematurely. Alice watched Frannie swerve around a puddle made visible by the wavy, upside-down letters of a flashing blue neon sign.
    Turning to her mother, who looked as if she was about to speak, Alice said, “Don’t. Please, Mom, just don’t .”
    “I