Читать книгу A Mommy in Mind - Arlene James, Arlene James - Страница 6

“Goodbye, sweetheart.”

Lori bent and placed a kiss on Lucia’s tiny brow. Every leave-taking was bittersweet now, but then perhaps that was the way it should be. Perhaps that was what she was meant to learn from her current troubles, that every moment a mother spent away from her child was a moment lost. Realistically she knew that it was not possible, or even desirable, to spend every moment with her daughter, but that only increased the value of the time they did have.

Cradled in the crook of the plump elbow of Juanita Jackson, the middle-aged nanny whom Lori had hired, baby Lucia imitated Lori, pursing her mouth with concentration so intense that her little eyes crossed. The two women laughed with delight. Of Cuban ancestry, unfailingly pleasant, competent and a devout believer, Juanita had been a true blessing to both Lori and Lucia. Because she was married, she preferred not to live in, which suited Lori well since her apartment provided only two bedrooms.

The second-story apartment in a converted town house east of downtown Chestnut Grove was small, but Lori loved everything about it, from its polished wood floor to its high, plastered ceiling with their lazily circling fans. The kitchen certainly could have been bigger, but the windows were large enough to give the place an airy feel. Lori especially loved the nursery, which she’d done up in soft yellows and creams, with pale pink and spring green accents. She’d even handsewn the window curtains and a ruffled bed skirt for the antique crib that she’d stumbled onto in a little shop downtown.

As Lori hurried out of the building to her car, she made a mental note to take the baby out for a stroll that evening. They went out at least a couple times a week for long, lazy cruises around the neighborhood. It had become a habit with them, but with autumn on the doorstep, Lori felt a sense of urgency that she hadn’t before. At least she tried to tell herself that was the problem. In truth, she couldn’t help fearing that her time with Lucia would end even before the summer, which was exactly why she was heading out early today.

After yesterday’s meeting with Ramon Estes, Lori needed advice, and she couldn’t think where else to get it except at the Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency. Her hope was that Pilar would have a few minutes to speak with her. Lori didn’t want to put Ramon’s sister in the middle of the custody fight, but it seemed to her that Ramon had already done that. She only hoped that Pilar would have something helpful to offer.

Careful of the brick privacy fencing on either side of the drive, Lori guided the car out into the street and drove through Chestnut Grove at a sedate pace. Even here in the suburbs of Richmond they had their share of rush-hour traffic. It was nothing, of course, like that of the city itself, but folks were fond of complaining about the traffic, anyway, in a rather self-congratulatory fashion, to be sure. Lori was guilty of it herself. Traffic in Chestnut Grove might be trying at times, but that didn’t keep her from being happy to leave Richmond behind every day or stop her from appreciating the benefits of small-town life.

Real traffic congestion, however, was simply abnormal, which was why Lori knew as soon as she turned the corner onto the street where the adoption agency was located that something was wrong. This traffic had little to do with the workday rush into Richmond and everything to do with catastrophe. It looked as though a parade had stacked up, complete with fire engines, flashing lights and police cars parked at odd angles.

Whipping the coupe into the first available spot along the curb, Lori tossed back the flap of her shoulder bag and pulled out her press credentials, which she clipped to the collar of her white blouse before bailing out of the car. Despite the narrowness of her knee-length khaki skirt, she put her tan leather flats to good use, digging a pen and pad from her bag as she hurried toward the fire engine taking up a good portion of the street. She used a technique honed by years of experience and called out a question based purely on assumption to a firefighter locking down a coiled water hose.

“Any idea how it started?”

He looked up and shrugged, but then as she drew closer he not only confirmed her assumption that there had been a fire but also yielded vital info. “Considering the break-in, I think it’s safe to say the fire was intentional.”

Wow. Fire and break-in. Looked as though the adoption agency had not yet left its troubles behind. Too bad. Tiny Blessings did much good in the community.

Lori glanced over her shoulder at the policemen and firefighters going in and out of the building, commenting offhandedly, “Sounds like somebody’s still nursing a grudge. Any idea who it might be?”

The firefighter shook his head. Well, one thing was certain. It was not Lindsey Morrow, the wife of Chestnut Grove’s former mayor. Lindsey had not only murdered the agency’s founder, Barnaby Harcourt, she’d attempted to kill the agency’s current director, Kelly Young, now Kelly Van Zandt. Unfortunately the list of those who might have reason to bear a grudge against the agency could be lengthy because Harcourt had taken payoffs and bribes to falsify adoption records for decades before his death.

Kelly had done everything in her power to restore the agency’s reputation and fulfil its mission of bringing together God’s needy children and worthy parents. The series of positive personal stories that first Jared and now Lori were currently writing for the paper was intended to get that message out to the public. Lori could only hope that this latest catastrophe would not set things back, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to cover the story. Quite the contrary. It was her job to report the news, and better her than someone who had no personal knowledge of the workings and value of the agency.

Lori thanked the firefighter and hurried toward the building. She was rehearsing what she was going to say to get past the uniformed officer at the entrance when Kelly’s husband, Ross Van Zandt, stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Van Zandt was a man’s man, tall and solid, with dark hair and eyes and a beard so heavy that more often than not he appeared to be in need of a shave. Since his marriage, he’d been an active member of Chestnut Grove Community Church, along with his wife. Consequently, Lori knew him well enough to use his given name.

“Ross!”

Looking her way, he acknowledged her presence with a resigned nod. “That didn’t take long,” he said wryly as she hurried up.

“This one’s a God-do,” she told him. “I was coming in to confer with someone about my own situation and blundered into the middle of this. They’re saying someone broke in and set a fire. How bad is it?”

Ross sighed and parked his hands at his waist, obviously considering the wisdom of speaking to any member of the press, even Lori. She couldn’t blame him for his wariness. As a private investigator and former cop, not much got past Ross; he knew well that attention could help as much as hurt, but his wife was the director of the adoption agency, and anyone who knew them understood that Ross would walk through fire before he allowed anything to harm Kelly or her precious agency. On the other hand, if anyone knew what was going on and whether or not to comment, it would be Ross.

After a moment he turned back inside and waved her along with him, apparently having weighed the options and decided that a fair report was his best choice. Lori wrinkled her nose at the smell of smoke, picking her way around puddles and emergency personnel in the outer offices. As soon as they were assured of a modicum of privacy, Ross began to speak in a confidential tone.

“It looks bad, but the damage is mostly cosmetic.” Lori heaved a silent sigh of relief and made a note on her pad. Ross went on. “The safety sprinklers caused the most damage, frankly, so the fire was the least of it.”

“Any idea where it started?”

“The blaze was contained in the file room.”

“Sounds like someone wanted to destroy records.”

“Yeah. I’d say that was pretty much the idea.”

“In other words,” Lori surmised, “Tiny Blessings still has an enemy out there, and with the files destroyed, it’s going to be tough to figure out who it is.”

Ross leaned in close, murmuring, “Off the record?”

Lori nodded and for emphasis clicked her pen to retract the writing point. “Sure.”

“We didn’t lose much. Months ago I began systematically scanning all the files and backing up the entire computer system on a daily basis.”

“But that’s good, isn’t it? Why keep it off the record?” Lori asked.

“It’s good for us,” Ross pointed out. “Maybe not so good for the perpetrator. No point letting him or her know that this little exercise wasn’t successful.”

“Maybe that way there won’t be a repeat performance,” Lori said. “I understand, and thank you for trusting me with this information.”

“I didn’t want you to worry that Lucia’s records had been destroyed,” he told her, his dark eyes full of compassion.

She knew her smile was wan, but it was the best she could do at the moment. “Thanks, I appreciate that. I’m just not sure it’ll make any difference.”

“We’ve heard about the custody suit,” he said. “I’m sorry, and I know Kelly is, too.”

Lori tried to smile. “Thanks again. I was hoping to speak to Pilar about it, but obviously that’s not going to happen, so I guess there’s no point in me hanging around here. At least I got the story first. If you’ll just give me a few more particulars, I’ll be on my way.” She tapped the notebook with her ink pen.

“No problem,” Ross said, leading her back into the inner offices. “I’ll let you take a look around, too, if you like, but don’t go running off until you’ve spoken to Kelly. I know she wants to tell you something.”

Taking heart from that, Lori did her job and followed him through the dripping rooms right to the scene of the crime.

“I’m afraid there isn’t much we can do,” Kelly said, perched on the edge of her painfully neat desk. She wore a short-sleeved, straight sheath dress that did not quite disguise the slight bulge of her pregnancy. Her warm brown eyes telegraphed sympathy, while the neat twist of her artfully streaked blond hair provided a poised, professional appearance, a welcome counterpoint to the chaotic noises coming from behind the closed door to her office.

Thankfully, the private offices of the adoption agency had escaped the deluge since the fire hadn’t gotten hot enough to set off the sprinklers in this portion of the building, which not only meant that the agency wouldn’t have to shut down operations completely but that Lori and Kelly could meet in relative comfort and privacy.

Sitting in a wing-backed chair, Lori nodded glumly. “I understand.”

“We’re still convinced that you are a wonderful mother for any child,” Kelly went on, “and we’ll back up that judgment in court. That is, if you’ve decided to fight for Lucia.”

“I don’t think I can do anything else,” Lori said softly.

“In that case…” Kelly picked up a business card from the blotter on her desk and leaned forward, pressing it into Lori’s hand. “On a strictly personal level, I heartily recommend this woman. She’s a fine attorney. Family law is her specialty, and she works on a sliding-fee scale. I think you’ll find her compassionate and knowledgeable, and I’ve told her that you might be calling.”

Lori looked down at the card and then back up at Kelly, forcing a smile. “Thank you.”

“I wish we could do more,” Kelly said, spreading her hands in a gesture of helplessness, “but we’re officially neutral in cases like this. Thankfully, they’re rare. I’m so very sorry that your situation is proving the exception.”

“I really wish I understood why,” Lori whispered.

Kelly leaned forward again and slipped an arm around Lori’s shoulders. “Just keep trusting God, and know that we’re praying for you.”

Lori nodded and slid the business card into her shoulder bag. “It’s good to know I have Christian friends to support me.”

Kelly patted her shoulder. “I think you have more friends than you know, and however this turns out, we’ll be here for you.”

Lori got up, trying to smile, and took her leave with the comment that she had to hurry to work and write her story about the break-in and fire. It was to Kelly’s credit that she didn’t ask Lori to downplay the event, but then surely Kelly knew that Lori would be fair.

As she was leaving the building, Lori noticed that the competition had arrived in the form of a television van and reporters from two other local papers. One of them, Alton Kessler, had penned some of the most lurid accounts of the agency’s past troubles.

Also on the scene was Florence Villi. The plump, saturnine cleaning lady at Tiny Blessings brushed past Lori on her way inside, her mousy brown hair caught up at the back of her head in a short, thin ponytail. No doubt she had been called in to help with the cleanup. She’d have a big job ahead of her, even with the fire contained to a single room.

Glancing back at the eighteenth-century stone front of the graceful old former bank building, Lori thought of all the photos that lined the walls of the adoption agency. What a tragedy it would be if Tiny Blessings lost pieces of its heritage to this dastardly act. Tragedy, it seemed, hung like a pall over everything lately.

Suddenly the words of the 44th Psalm came to mind.

For our soul has sunk down into the dust;

Our body cleaves to the earth.

Rise up, be our help, and redeem us for the sake of

Thy loving kindness.

Hurrying toward her car, Lori prayed that the attorney Kelly had recommended would be her salvation. She called from her cell phone for an appointment even before she pulled away from the curb.

Ramon laid aside the newspaper and looked up at the television mounted high in the corner behind the counter in the Starlight Diner. He reached for the coffee cup that the waitress had just refilled. The news this morning was all about the break-in and fire at the Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency.

“Pity, isn’t it?”

Turning his head, he encountered none other than Lori Sumner herself. Considering that he’d just finished her account of the crime, he might have conjured her out of thin air. Her simple black slacks and matching turtleneck should have lent her a masculine air. Instead they seemed to heighten her femininity. With her sleek, golden-brown hair caught at the nape of her neck, her light green eyes took on breathtaking brilliance. Clearing his throat, he hastily set aside his cup and got to his feet.

“It certainly is.”

“I hope Pilar isn’t too upset by it all.”

“So do I. It’s the last thing she needs right now.”

His sister’s pregnancy was beginning to take a toll on her energy. She wouldn’t complain, of course, having feared that she might never conceive, which was one reason she and her husband, Zach, had decided to adopt right after they’d married. Now, with two preschoolers and a baby on the way, Pilar had her hands full. But her dedication to her work at the adoption agency would never waver, hence Ramon’s concern.

Lori glanced at the newspaper he had just laid aside. “I see you’ve read my piece.”

Smiling to himself, he smoothed his tie with one hand. He had to hand it to her. Of all the accounts of the break-in and fire that he had heard or read, hers was the most incisive.

“You write a fair, detailed, unbiased story. Especially compared to the character assassination that jerk Kessler at the other paper makes his speciality.”

Kessler’s reporting relied heavily on innuendo and speculation, much of it seemingly designed to trash Kelly Van Zandt. Ramon couldn’t help wondering what the man had against the director of the adoption agency. Lori seemed to concur with Ramon’s assessment of Kessler’s reportage.

“Faint praise, indeed.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

“In that case, thanks.”

Ramon inclined his head. “You’re welcome.” Reaching down he pulled out a chair. The act was completely unplanned and took even him by surprise. Nevertheless, he issued the invitation formally. “Care to take a seat?”

She shook her head. “No time. I’m just picking up a cup of coffee on my way to work.”

“Ah.” Unaccountably disappointed, he wondered what had gotten into him. “Have a good day then.”

“You, too.”

With that she walked away. He folded himself down into his chair, his gaze falling on the newspaper again. Lori obviously enjoyed her work, judging by its quality, and had the determination to ferret out a good story. But then he already knew that she had her share of spunk. Few people would have pled their own case to the opposition the way that she had. Apparently she’d had lots of practice standing up for herself. How else could she have survived all that she’d endured in her lifetime?

Ramon shuffled aside the newspapers and picked up the file that he’d received by special delivery only that morning. He’d hired a private investigator to check out Lori even before he’d met her, and the resulting report was surprisingly thick. Lori Sumner was an open book; being a ward of the state until age eighteen had guaranteed it. The report gave Ramon plenty of ammunition to use against her in court and also made him loath to do it.

A movement at his side had Ramon looking up again. His brother-in-law, Zach Fletcher, grinned as he dropped down into the chair that Ramon had pulled out for Lori.

“How you doing?”

Ramon chuckled. He’d been determined to dislike Zachary Fletcher, but it just wasn’t possible. For one thing, he’d made Ramon’s sister, Pilar, ridiculously happy, and he was turning out to be a very fine father to the children they were in the process of adopting, Adrianna and Eduardo. For another, Zach was exactly what a good cop should be, a first-rate detective who went after the truth.

“Fine. You?”

“Never better.” After signaling the waitress for coffee, Zach smoothed his wavy brown hair and folded his arms against the tabletop. “So what’s up with you these days?”

Ramon folded his napkin just so across his thigh. “I’m sure Pilar’s told you about the custody case.”

Zach made a face. “Yeah. She feels pretty bad about it since she’s the one who recommended Lori as an adoptive parent.”

“I guess that should’ve been my first clue.” Ramon sighed.

“Meaning?”

“When I first took on this case I expected to be dealing with a spoiled rich girl, a do-gooder with little real-world experience and no appreciation for Latino culture. Instead, I find that Lori Sumner is not only open-minded but a survivor of some of life’s most devastating blows.”

Zach nodded. “Pilar’s told me some of her story. Guess her father was never a part of her life, then her mother died when she was young.” He shook his head. “You’d think she’d have been adopted, but instead she grew up in foster care.”

Lori had languished in foster care because she’d been diagnosed as learning disabled as a result of her mother’s drug use. Traumatized by her mother’s death, she hadn’t spoken for a couple years, and during that time she’d suffered from horrible night terrors. Her intelligence was not, however, by anyone’s standard, deficient. Ramon could attest to that fact himself. Not surprisingly, though, by the time she’d reached her early teens, she’d been rebellious and belligerent, acting out in frightening ways.

“Like I said, she took some tough blows.”

“Yeah,” Zach agreed softly. “I told Pilar that a couple brushes with the law shouldn’t be held against her. I mean, she’s made a real success of herself, right?”

The waitress arrived with fresh coffee just then, and Ramon took advantage of her presence to delay replying. He shifted in his chair, crossed his legs, pinched the crease in his slacks, anything not to look Zach in the eye, because the truth was that in a court of civil law, Lori’s past could very much be held against her—and he would have to be the one to see that it was. The idea left a sour taste in his mouth.

She’d been only fifteen when she was arrested for marijuana possession. Because she’d pled guilty and performed community service, the record would have been expunged had she not gotten caught again only months later. There were other scrapes, too, such as skipping school and petty shoplifting. She’d wound up on probation and at one point it had seemed that she was destined for detention, but then she’d been placed with an older couple by the name of Evans, both now deceased, and everything had changed.

It pained Ramon to think of her having been in trouble with the police. He remembered only too well his own early experience with the heavy hand of the law. It was part of the reason he’d been so ready to dislike Zach. Even now, the memory rankled.

He and a couple of friends had been lounging against their cars at a popular strip mall on the outskirts of Richmond, cutting up and talking as teenagers will do, music throbbing from someone’s CD player, when a fight had broken out across the parking lot behind them. It had nothing to do with them and was far enough away that they hadn’t felt threatened at all. They’d scoffed among themselves at the stupidity of scraping up knuckles and faces in some silly macho exercise, when suddenly they were surrounded by cop cars.

Before Ramon had known what was happening, he’d found himself thrown to the ground, arms wrenched behind him and pinned back with steel cuffs. No one would listen to a word he had to say. Instead, they’d hauled in everyone in the lot. It turned out that the fight had been called in as a gang action, which meant that the police were taking no chances, but the unfairness of the whole experience still smarted for Ramon.

He’d been a good kid, raised in church by strict, loving parents, destined for college and the fulfillment of the American Dream; yet he’d been thrown in the clink, identified as a possible gang member, questioned for hours and finally turned loose without so much as an apology. As a result of that single arrest, his college choices had been limited, and even though the charges had been dropped, the taint of possible gang involvement had followed him for years.

Ramon was proud of what he’d accomplished with his life. He felt that, fired by the indignity of injustice, he’d turned a negative experience into a worthwhile vocation. Yet he couldn’t quite forget or forgive what had been done to him. Just the shock and embarrassment that his parents had suffered because of his arrest could still cause his face to heat and his temper to rise.

Things had gotten a little better since his sister had married Zach. Ramon had to admit that Zach was definitely one of the good guys, and he’d helped Ramon see things from a different perspective. But not even Zach could change reality. The world, so far as Ramon was concerned, remained a biased, unfair place. It was not, in Ramon’s estimation, the sort of place that a wise, just, loving God would tolerate. If anything, Lori Sumner’s personal story reinforced that conviction for Ramon.

Groaning, he pinched the bridge of his nose and baldly admitted, “I wish I’d never gotten involved in this child-custody case.”

Zach made a sympathetic sound, sipping from the cup that the waitress had filled moments before. “It’s your calling to wield power for the powerless.”

Ramon had to smile. His brother-in-law had come to know him well. “My sympathies definitely lay with Yesenia, but…”

“You can’t help feeling sorry for Lori Sumner,” Zach surmised correctly.

Ramon swallowed. He owed Yesenia the very best legal representation that he could provide, and he had little doubt that he could win the case, but he couldn’t help regretting the pain that his actions were bound to cause Lori.

“I never thought I’d have to argue to take a child away from a woman whose only fault is in loving that child and wanting to give her a home,” he said softly.

“I hear you,” Zach remarked. “On one hand, the Diaz girl is the baby’s mother, and on the other, Lori just wants to give that baby a home. I’m glad it’s not up to me to decide who wins this one. Frankly, I’m not sure I could do it.”

Privately, Ramon wasn’t sure he could, either.

The waitress stopped by again to ask if Zach wanted to order something to eat.

“I had breakfast with my family this morning.”

His smile turned introspective, almost secretive, and all at once Ramon found himself strangely envious, which wasn’t like him at all. Ramon relished his solitude. Yes, he loved his extended family, and he had a very healthy appreciation for the opposite gender, but his single life was full and satisfying and easy, which was just what his demanding career required.

He asked for the check and dug out his wallet, tossing bills onto the table. The tip was overly generous, but he’d been coming into the Starlight Diner several times a week for years now. When he wasn’t dining out with some client or eating at his mami’s table, he generally took his meals here. It was convenient, comfortable and familiar. Plus, the food was uniformly good. It did, however, on occasion, get kind of old. Maybe that was what lay behind the recurring feeling of…emptiness. As if something was missing from his life. He shook his head.

“What?” Zach asked.

“Just too much work.”

“Well, we’ve got a long weekend coming up.”

Ramon had forgotten about the upcoming holiday weekend. His family always participated in the annual community Labor Day picnic in Winchester Park. This year it would be particularly good to get his mind off work. And Lori Sumner’s beautiful green eyes. Getting quickly to his feet, he prepared to take his leave.

“Guess I’ll see you Monday.”

Zach nodded and hooked an arm over the back of his chair. “Glad to hear it. Now if you’d just promise to turn up at church on Sunday, I could go home and tell my very pregnant and equally emotional wife that I have completed my assignment.”

Ramon arched an eyebrow. “So that’s what this is about. No chance meeting at all.”

Zach lifted a hand. “She’s worried that you might think the two of you are on opposite sides of this custody thing. It would do her a world of good just now if you’d—”

Ramon clapped a hand onto his brother-in-law’s shoulder, squeezing just a bit harder than was absolutely necessary. “You may tell my sister that I will see her on Monday,” he said, “and that if she had a lick of sense in her beautiful head she would stay home on Sunday and put her feet up.”

Zach snorted. “Kindly recall of whom you are speaking.”

Ramon grinned. “You are a good husband. For a gringo.”

“I don’t know about being a good husband. I do know that your sister loves you.”

“And I know that you love her,” Ramon told him softly.

Zach said nothing to that, but he didn’t have to. It was all there in his blue eyes, a serene wealth of emotion that permeated the very air around him with satisfaction and joy. Ramon began to understand just how cold and lonely a mate even a good cause could be.