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Two things are immediately evident to Juliana Blumenthal:

#1óher son and this woman he insists upon introducing are infatuated with each other (in fact they positively reek of intimate relations);

#2óthough "Joanna" appears trim and fit as a gymnast, she is irreversibly pregnant (i.e. filled out just enough to preclude a problem-free abortion).

And less apparent but on-the-spot intuited:

#3óSam is not the father.

"Come in, come in. You didnít expect to blurt out such stunning news then pull a sprint, I hope? Give your mom and future mom-in-law a chance to catch her breath; Iím in shock."

Alternately flattered by:

Samís eagerness to share what she presumes are the couple's heat-of-the-moment plans,

and aghast at:

how spontaneous, rash, and reckless the pairís intentions are,

Juliana hastens to the living roomís makeshift bar for a fortifying drink.

"I havenít any champagne but hereís an excellent cabernet Iíve been saving for some special occasion..."

(... and what could be more special than a son proposing marriage to a three-month-pregnant stranger? is the subtext Juliana throttles, poignantly aware that there is more to be imparted by the agitated couple seating themselves on the sofa and opening a laptop module, fidgeting with controls to access a file in which is compiled she- knows-not-what but which makes Juliana nervous anyway, a premonition dawning that the revelations made thus far are relatively tame, that wilder more extreme assaults on her single-motherhood are itching to be waged, her heart already pounding, already racing in advance of some imminent disclosure).

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