Fifty

“And what’s going on? he asks stupidly,” Jack said with a wry grin. “Pamela Canfield, who is the father? It looks like you’re about to deliver any minute.”

“Not till next week, Dad,” she replied insouciantly. “And the father is my husband. Who else would it be?” Then with a look that was as phony as a three-dollar bill she added, “Oops! Maybe I forgot to tell you that I’m now Mrs. Mark Hopkins? And have been for quite a few months now ... almost a year, in fact.”

Jack took his daughter into his arms and kissed her lovingly. Then he took Mark’s hand in a congratulatory grip.

Trying to change the subject, Pam said, “You asked Mark what he’s doing now, Dad. The answer is he’s looking for a job. And I came in to talk to you about severance arrangements, particularly medical coverage since I’ll be delivering in about a week or less.”

“Severance?” Jack asked, baffled. This was news to him.

“Mark was fired first thing this morning,” Pam replied.

“What happened?” Jack asked Mark.

“I got too i