Читать книгу A Mommy in Mind - Arlene James, Arlene James - Страница 7

Sybil Williams proved to be a thin, well-dressed bundle of nervous energy who seemed younger than she actually was. Shrewd, forthright and honest, she weighed Lori’s chances of retaining custody of Lucia at no more than fifty percent, and only that because Yesenia Diaz was an illegal resident. She expressed surprise that Ramon Estes would involve himself in a custody case, required a modest retainer and encouraged Lori as best she could.

“Estes is a fine attorney,” she said, “but family law is not his specialty. Let me do a little research and get back to you in a few days. I’ll have a better idea then just what we’re dealing with.” She stood and reached across the desk to offer her hand, a clear dismissal. “Until then, try not to worry.”

Lori rose from her chair and took those slender, manicured fingers in her own, painfully aware that fighting Yesenia could cost thousands and thousands of dollars. She would worry about that later, though, trusting God to provide what she would need. It was all up to Him, anyway.

Ten minutes later she stepped out onto the Richmond sidewalk. Heat rose up to meet her from the concrete underfoot and bounced off the glass wall of the high-rise building behind her. She longed suddenly for home, Lucia and the shady streets of Chestnut Grove, but she knew that any respite to be found there was only temporary.

She could hardly believe that she’d just engaged an attorney and was about to join in a legal brawl. And for what? Why? That was the question that continually bedeviled her. For what reason would God put her through this?

Lord, she thought, heading back to work, help me to understand what is happening. I know You have a plan. You must have a plan. When You sent me to Mary and Fred, You had a plan. When You directed me to Chestnut Grove, You had a plan. When You brought Lucia to me, You must have had a plan. There has to be a reason, a purpose, for all this worry and fear. Help me to find it. Please.

Surely that plan could not be for her to lose Lucia. It couldn’t. It simply couldn’t.

Despite the heat, she felt a deep and numbing chill.

Pushing Lucia’s stroller along the walkway beneath the trees, Lori took a deep breath and sighed with pleasure. She loved the summertime with the aromas of freshly mowed grass and burgers grilling over hot coals.

Smiling, she thought of Mary and Fred and cook-outs in the backyard. Along with the burgers and the occasional steak, they’d given her laughter and lazy afternoons and the confidence to be herself, things she knew that she could give to Lucia—if allowed the opportunity.

But she wasn’t going to think of that today. For the next several hours she would take a holiday from worry. And what a glorious day to do it! Of all the holidays, Labor Day must surely offer the most spectacular weather, warm enough for outdoor activities, cool enough to simply bask in the sun.

Sunshine dappled the people and picnic tables scattered across the broad, tree-shaded greensward of Winchester Park. Some people were tossing a Frisbee in an open spot across the way, and two teams played softball on the field on the other side of the little lake at the center of the park. A few booths, decorated with bunting, surrounded one of the larger pavilions near the parking area.

As Lori watched, a large, yellow dog chased a duck into the pond and reemerged to shake water all over a queue of people waiting to rent rowboats. Lori laughed, feeling renewed and at peace. For now.

Movement in the corner of her eye had her turning her head. Kelly Van Zandt, looking cool in slender cropped pants and a fitted, sleeveless top that buttoned up the front over her pregnancy bulge, her multitoned hair caught up in a color-coordinated clip, waved to Lori from the gazebo. She was with a group of people that included her husband, Sandra Lange, Tony Conlon, Ben Cavanaugh and his nine-year-old daughter, Olivia.

Lori waved back and aimed the stroller in that direction. As she drew near, Kelly got up and came to meet her.

“Lori, how are you? I needn’t ask how Lucia is. She’s sleeping the sleep of the blameless, God love her.”

Lori peeked beneath the bonnet of the stroller and smiled to see the baby relaxed in that soft, boneless fashion that denoted deep, blissful slumber, her tiny mouth working an invisible nipple on an imaginary bottle.

“Must be all this fresh air,” Lori said. “That or I rushed her morning nap so we could get out here.”

“She looks so contented,” Kelly commented wistfully, her hands roaming over her distended belly. Then she seemed to recall what Lori was trying so hard to forget. Dropping her hand, she fixed Lori with a sympathetic gaze and lowered her voice. “I’ve wondered if you’d called Sybil Williams.”

“Yes. We met on Friday.”

Kelly breathed a relieved sigh. “Thank goodness. She really does know what she’s doing.”

“I’m sure of it, and you were right. I like her a lot.”

“Good, good. Well, I’ll rest a little easier on that score. Come and say hello to the others.”

She led Lori to the gazebo, Lori pushing the stroller. Sandra beamed a welcome at Lori from a lawn chair placed dead center of the gazebo’s plank floor, her sparkling brown eyes so like her daughter’s. The resemblance ended there, though.

In many ways, mother and daughter were exact opposites. Kelly was slim and neat, even a tad uptight, while at fifty-seven, Sandra was on the plump side and more than a bit flamboyant. She’d undoubtedly spent a small fortune on hair spray over the years. Today she wore a little triangular scarf over her normal puffy, teased-up style. The checked scarf matched perfectly the large S on the shoulder of the bright blue blouse that she wore over a long denim skirt.

Kelly had been one of the first children placed for adoption at Tiny Blessings. She and Sandra had realized their connection only last year during Ross’s investigation into Barnaby Harcourt’s misdeeds. As different as they were, the reunited mother and daughter had grown close, proof positive, to Lori’s mind, of how God worked in the lives of His children. A survivor of breast cancer, Sandra still wore a pink rubber bracelet in honor of her recovery.

Tony Conlon, Sandra’s “particular friend,” occupied the chair at her side. He wore jeans, a T-shirt and suspenders—though why he would need suspenders, given the size of his belly, Kelly couldn’t imagine. She chalked it up to his penchant toward small eccentricities. Lori found Tony to be a delight with his quick smile, quick wit and white hair and beard. She often stopped in his shop, Conlon’s Gift Emporium, just to exchange repartee with him.

“My favorite girl reporter!” Tony exclaimed, showing a lot of white enamel and winking broadly.

Lori laughed, partly because of the old joke, partly because she knew it pleased Tony. A widower whose only daughter lived in Florida, he was a likable, charming fellow and simply wild about Sandra Lange.

Lucky Sandra, Lori thought, envying the older woman such devotion. Inspiring such devotion seemed to be a family trait.

Ross Van Zandt stepped up next to his wife and slipped an arm around her shoulders. Lori sighed inwardly. She wanted that kind of love, but she accepted that it might not be God’s will for her. Lucia, however, clearly was, and that, she told herself sternly, was enough. If she could just keep Lucia with her, she wouldn’t ask for romance or anything else.

Olivia Cavanaugh skipped over to peek at the baby. “Awww, she’s so cute.” Lucia sighed and squirmed, rubbing her nose with one tiny fist, and Olivia giggled. “Joseph does that sometimes. Mama says a baby’s dreams are delivered on the flutter of angel wings, and that’s why they jerk and stuff, because the angel’s wings brush them.”

Lori smiled. Joseph, Ben and Leah Cavanaugh’s son, was only a couple months older than Lucia. “What a lovely thought.”

Ben stepped up and laid his big, capable hands atop his daughter’s narrow shoulders. “Now, don’t wake her, Livy.”

“Oh, Lucia is a champion sleeper,” Lori told him. “I sometimes think maybe she naps a little too much.”

Ben smiled. “I wish I could say that about Joseph. He kept us up all hours for months, and even now sometimes that boy just seems to vibrate with energy. I think he’s going to walk before he’s six months old.”

“Speaking of Joseph, where are he and Leah?” Lori asked.

Grinning, Ben jerked a thumb over one shoulder. “Leah’s putting out our lunch, with Joseph on her hip, no doubt, grabbing everything that comes within reach.” He shifted his gaze to the Van Zandts. “I just came by to let Kelly and Zach know that I’m making arrangements to meet my birth mother’s family.”

As a child Ben had been placed for adoption by Barnaby Harcourt, but until recently no one had known who his biological parents were. Records had recently been discovered during renovations hidden in a wall at the Harcourt Mansion, and Ben’s had been among them.

“Ben, that’s wonderful!” Lori blurted, thinking how blessed he was to have discovered family.

Of course he already had Olivia, his adopted parents and his adopted brother, Eli, who happened to be Lucia’s pediatrician, and now Leah and baby Joseph, not to mention his sister-in-law, Rachel, and brand-new niece, Madeleine. But Ben had suffered much loss in his life, too. Not only was Ben’s birth mother deceased, his first wife had died long ago—cancer, if Lori wasn’t mistaken. He must be thrilled to have found his biological siblings.

Lori would have fallen on her knees and cried out thanks to God if she had been so blessed. She was shocked to see the tall, muscular carpenter duck his dark head and look uncertain. He probably wished he hadn’t spoken up in front of her.

The trouble with being a reporter was that everyone always feared that they would see themselves in print if they weren’t careful. But surely they all knew this wasn’t news to her. Kelly and Ross had given her coworker Jared Kierney the story themselves, and Jared had passed the info on to her when she’d taken over the Tiny Blessings series from him. Both she and Jared had been very careful about what they’d used.

“Well, we better get back,” Ben said, nudging Olivia and backing away.

Tony made the observation, “Good man, that Ben Cavanaugh. Done a heap of work for me around the shop. Excellent carpenter.”

Murmurs of assent went around the small space as the Cavanaughs moved away.

Ross glanced at his wife, putting on a friendly face. “Can we have a private word, Lori?”

“Sure.” She looked down at the still sleeping baby, her hair sliding forward. Even held back from her face by a narrow elastic band, her hair constantly fell over one eye.

Sandra insisted that she and Tony be allowed to watch over Lucia while Lori and the Van Zandts spoke a few feet away.

“You don’t have to worry,” she told them. “I won’t be printing Ben’s plans on the front page of the Richmond Gazette.”

“Well, of course you won’t,” Kelly said dismissively. “We never thought you would.”

“That’s not your style,” Ross confirmed.

“Then what’s this about?” Lori asked, puzzled.

Ross lowered his voice to say, “We have a favor to ask, but first we want you to know that we’ll both understand if you don’t want to do it.”

“We would never ask you to compromise your integrity,” Kelly added.

“If only your competition had some,” Ross muttered darkly.

“You must be talking about yesterday’s Alton Kessler piece,” Lori surmised.

She’d read the story and knew for a fact that it wasn’t just unfair, it was at least partly false, and it attacked Kelly personally. Unfortunately it was just the latest in a steady stream of criticism and implied wrongdoing at the agency. No wonder the Van Zandts were upset. She would have been, too.

“We have to get at the root of these leaks and lies,” Kelly whispered.

“Do you think you could ask around, find out who Kessler’s source is?” Ross asked, coming to the point.

Lori parked her hands at her hips, striking a determined pose. “You leave it to me. I’ll go to Alton himself. I can’t promise that he’ll cooperate, but I do have a little leverage.”

Ross smiled wolfishly. “I knew we could count on you. I’m so pleased I won’t even ask what you’ve got on Kessler.”

Lori grinned. “Let’s just say that Alton would make a better novelist than journalist and I can prove it.”

Ross chuckled. “I don’t know why you haven’t already busted him, but I’m glad that it works in our favor.”

She shrugged. “I’m not the news police, and it’s a minor issue so far as the public goes. Besides, my paper isn’t in the business of outing their competition, although I doubt Alton even understands why the Gazette would hesitate to publish dirt on a fellow reporter. He certainly doesn’t care whether or not what he does reflects unfavorably on the rest of our profession, and I doubt his publisher does, either.”

Ross nodded. “I understand, and I thank you for using whatever leverage you have. Can you give me a call as soon as you talk to him?”

“No problem.”

They returned to the gazebo. Lucia was waking and making the sorts of noises guaranteed to embarrass any parent, much to the amusement of Sandra and Tony. Lori excused herself to go and change the baby. Afterward she gave Lucia a bottle and a good burping, then tucked her back into the stroller, content and smelling sweet, before setting off in search of Alton Kessler.

She pushed the stroller toward the parking area, intending to see if she could spot Alton’s luxury sedan. She was halfway there when she spied the Estes family arrayed around a picnic table draped with a cheery, vibrantly striped cloth.

Pilar, her pregnant stomach swollen, rested on a folding chaise longue, her bare feet peeking out from beneath the skirt of her bright, heavily embroidered dress, while her husband, Zach, helped their little almost-adopted-daughter, Adrianna, toss a blue plastic ball at her big brother, Eduardo, who brandished a fat, yellow plastic bat. Eduardo missed, but his grandparents applauded, nevertheless, from a blanket spread on the grass. Pilar laughed, caught sight of Lori and sat up straight, calling out to her.

“Hello, Lori! Come. Come, join us!”

Lori glanced at Ramon, who sat alone at the picnic table, which was spread with all manner of food. His head had jerked up at the sound of her name and he seemed to be drilling her with his black stare through his mirrored shades. Lori caught her breath, stunned by the muscular torso delineated by the close fit of a simple dark blue T-shirt. No wonder he looked so good in a suit, with those broad shoulders and that ripped chest.

Lori smiled, lifted a hand to Pilar in recognition and intended to pretend to have urgent business elsewhere, which she did, in a way. To her surprise, Ramon rose, stepped over the bench seat of the picnic table and calmly strode toward her with an easy, loose-hipped stride that made her gulp.

She thought of the mustard stain hidden beneath her red tank top from an earlier attempt at lunch and cringed inwardly. The man always made her feel grungy and unkempt. Her heartbeat sped up as he drew near. Then, just before he reached her, he removed his sunglasses. Glancing back at his sister, he finally spoke.

“Won’t you join us? Pilar will worry that you’re avoiding her, if you don’t.” His gaze met hers and the next instant he devastated her with a genuine smile. “Please. Otherwise, I might think you’re avoiding me,” he added, black eyes twinkling.

A bark of stunned laughter escaped Lori. His eyes crinkled at the outer corners with shared mirth, and she found herself utterly charmed. Mutely, she nodded and felt the warm glow of his pleasure sweep over her. She was already walking at his side, pushing the stroller, before she even asked herself what it could hurt to join the Estes family for a while. Surely it could only help her cause to show him what a devoted mommy she was. Provided, of course, that she didn’t sit drooling over his good looks like some besotted schoolgirl. Swallowing, she resolved to be unmoved.

“No, no, no,” Rita Estes admonished kindly, dishing another helping of black beans and rice onto Lori’s plate. “Eat! Eat! It is fiesta time.”

Sitting beside Lori on the bench at the table, Ramon chuckled. “For Mami, fiesta means food.”

Since Lori was already forking rice and shredded pork into her mouth, he assumed that she wasn’t too put out by his mother’s habitual need to feed everyone who came into her orbit.

“Mmm, this is so good, Mrs. Estes, and I was so hungry. Thank you.”

Over on the chaise, Pilar had Lucia in her lap, cooing happily while the kids and Zach looked on. Ramon had the strong sense that the Fletcher family was practicing for their own new arrival. Lori kept a watchful eye on the byplay, doing her best to appear unconcerned, though Ramon sensed that she could barely allow Lucia out of her grasp. Did she fear that he might snatch the baby and run with her to Yesenia?

The thought irked him. Clearly, he made her nervous; yet he could not deny that she seemed at ease with his family, chatting with his mother and sister, patiently answering the incessant questions of his niece and nephew, trading quips with his father and observations with his brother-in-law. Earlier she’d helped Adrianna toss the ball to Eduardo, who’d finally made contact with his bat, much to the delight of the adults. With Lucia tucked up against her side, Lori had then walked Pilar to the ladies’ room, one of several trips his pregnant sister had made in the past couple of hours, and upon her return had succumbed graciously to his mother’s attempts to feed her.

Mami refilled Lori’s glass of lemonade, wiped her hands on the dish towel tied around her trim waist and smoothed the lay of her salt-and-pepper bob, the thick bangles at her wrists tinkling merrily. “Salvador,” she called to her husband, who immediately began hauling himself up from the blanket on which he reclined, “chop some ice, eh, from the block in the little cooler.”

“I’ll do it,” Ramon said, waving his father down and reaching for the ice pick.

Rita snatched it up before he could get his hand on it. “Ah, ah, ah.” In Spanish she told him to entertain his “bonita amiga.”

From the widening of her eyes, he concluded that Lori understood at least those two words, but he did not correct his mother by telling her that Lori Sumner was definitely not his “pretty friend.” His mother nattered on, in English, thankfully, about how Ramon worked too hard and his father was used to a certain amount of physical labor at the hardware shop that they owned and operated on Main Street.

Dutifully, Salvador rose to do as his wife requested, and Ramon just as dutifully subsided. Behind him, Lucia suddenly let out a wail. Lori shot to her feet, had the baby in hand and returned to her seat before he even managed to pivot around.

“There, there, sweetheart.” She quieted the child with an expert pat and jiggle.

“Was it something I did?” Pilar inquired worriedly.

“No, of course not. She’s been a little fussy lately, that’s all. Eli says she’s too young to be teething, so we’ve switched her formula, but since she hasn’t run a temperature or exhibited any other symptoms of illness, we’re assuming it’s just a phase she’s going through.” She lifted the baby and brought her nose-to-little-nose. “You’re a growing girl, aren’t you, precious? Before I know it you’ll be running circles around me.”

The baby cooed and got both of her little hands into Lori’s hair. Pilar laughed delightedly, obviously looking forward to just such a scene with her own infant. Lori tucked the baby into the crook of her arm and tickled her belly through the thin cotton of her pink-and-white polka-dotted dress. Lucia squirmed and kicked out with both feet, dislodging a soft white shoe piped with pink ribbon. Ramon bent and quickly swiped it up from the dirt. Rising, he handed it to Lori.

“Thanks.”

Somehow, while the rest of them watched and with only one hand, she managed to get that tiny shoe back onto that constantly moving little foot. Lucia waved her arms and cooed as if in congratulations. Ramon looked away, struck to the heart by the domestic picture.

Lori seemed to be a natural mother, her love for children, Lucia, in particular, painfully obvious. Crouching beside her, he thought of Yesenia, wondering if she was truly capable of giving Lucia the same level of care as Lori. Perhaps Lucia should stay with Lori, after all. It would certainly be best for Lori. But what then of Yesenia? Ramon no longer felt certain that he knew the right answers in this case.

Of course, his opinion didn’t really matter. A judge would be the one to decide. Ramon’s job was merely to present the case, but, watching Lori now, he had to wonder if he was the right lawyer for the job.

He felt sorry for Yesenia. He truly did, but he did not want to be party to removing a child, any child, from Lori’s care. He didn’t want to have to use Lori’s past against her. He didn’t want to be responsible for causing her more pain. Most of all, he did not want to be considered her adversary. Just the opposite, in fact.

It all meant that he could not adequately represent Yesenia.

He had to resign the case.

Relief swept through him. A weight he hadn’t known he carried lifted from his shoulders. Both reinforced his conclusion. He must resign. He no longer had any business representing Yesenia in this.

Ethically he should tell Yesenia of his decision first, but Ramon wanted Lori to know right away. Perhaps it was selfish on his part, he mused, watching the way she flipped her glossy, full-bodied hair out of Lucia’s reach. No, it was definitely selfish on his part. His resignation wouldn’t really change anything for anyone but him.

Yesenia had a strong case and she would undoubtedly hire another attorney; he was duty-bound to recommend one. In fact, he already had a name in mind—proof, he supposed, that he’d been considering this move on some level before he’d dared even acknowledge it to himself.

He looked at Lori, so fit and trim in her modest shorts and double tank, her bare feet shod in sensible running shoes, her thick, sleek hair held back by a thin, stretchy red band and her smile lighting her pretty face. She wore not a dab of cosmetics today, her lashes glinting dark gold around her light green eyes, her full, lush lips a natural, dusky rose.

Suddenly it seemed imperative that he make her understand that they were no longer to be considered adversaries. Wondering where they might find a moment of privacy, he stood and reached down, pulling her up bedside him, one hand fixed firmly beneath her upper arm.

She gaped at him, but then she blinked and, maddeningly, her gaze slid right past him. The next thing he knew she’d disengaged herself and was carrying Lucia toward the stroller.

“I have to go,” she said. “Thank you so much for a lovely lunch, Rita. Have a good day, everyone!”

While his family called out farewells, Ramon went after her. He reached her side and barely stopped himself from grasping the handle of the stroller to keep her in place. She glanced up, surprise and something very like alarm flashing across her face, but then she turned her attention back to settling Lucia in the stroller, and he knew that he had to do—say—something.

“I’ll, um, walk with you.”

She opened her mouth as if she might actually object, but then she glanced once more over her shoulder, shrugged and took off. “Suit yourself.”

He barely had time to flip a wave at his family before following. Wherever they were off to, they were getting there quickly, as quickly as a baby and stroller would allow. Ramon shrugged inwardly and picked up his pace, as curious as determined now.