"It's a boy."
The doctor had just come from the delivery room. Simon had been pacing the waiting room. In some aspects, he was not a patient man and this was driving him insane. Uncle Moe, on the other hand, sat patiently reading an outdated magazine.
"When can I see her doctor?"
Moses Aronson had arrived in the States after the New Year. Simon had been traveling between the U.S. and Europe and had asked his uncle to keep a helpful eye on Emily and the baby. The simple truth was that he was not sure where he would settle. That decision was being put off for as long as possible.
The doctor appeared weary. It was the end of a long shift. "In a few minutes, after we get them cleaned up. The nurse will let you know."
Simon was in a mild state of euphoria. Intuitively understanding that all of life was in constant flux; his natural instinct was to tap down his excitement. The Van Gogh arrived in the mail at the end of September the previous year. He marveled; the near perfect crime. No breaking and entry; no guns or force; no alarm systems to bypass. Best of all, no knowledge that a crime had been committed.
In the end, all of this was no consolation. The tricky bit, phase two, was under way. And he still had to deal with Engelond.
"You may go in now." Somehow, even after long hours, nurses always managed to look happy after the delivery of a child.
The successful theft of one of the world's great masterpieces dimmed in comparison to meeting Emily. Simon was in love. And now, a beautiful baby boy.
He leaned over, kissed Emily and whispered in her ear. He turned around, took his son and held him. Simon was delirious. He could not believe how happy he was.
"Well, lassie, what will you be namin’ the wee one?"
Emily recalled when she first met Moses. She gave him a big hug. "Uncle Moe, I've heard so much about you. This is such a pleasure."
"No, gearrchaile, I believe that the pleasure is mine."
She leaned in to him and stood on her tip toes. "Is that Borneo story really true?"
"Every word, dear one, every blessed word."
Moses was standing at the foot of the bed. She couldn't decide if he reminded her of a big, soft teddy bear or Santa Claus. "Haven't decided yet Uncle Moe. If you have any suggestions, I'd be happy to hear them."
Emily turned to Simon. "Where are you going now?"
"Nowhere. I'm planting my ass in that chair until you and No Name are free to go."