A chuckle ran through the auditorium. Melissa’s fists unclenched. She hadn’t realized how tense she was on his behalf. During their marriage, she’d often experienced his emotions as if they were her own, a habit she’d picked up again, making it impossible to stop caring about him. If he didn’t care about her, too, he shouldn’t have moved to Safe Harbor. But then, he hadn’t known about the triplets.
“Traditionally, for an attorney, handling divorces and custody cases means that your client either wins or loses. That’s similar to criminal law, yet the overwhelming majority of our clients aren’t criminals. I began to wonder why they, and we, acted as if they were.”
The auditorium had fallen so quiet that a neighbor’s sneeze startled Melissa. Everyone seemed mesmerized by Edmond’s narrative.
“Over the past two decades, attorneys who share my aversion to these destructive processes have developed a field called collaborative law.” He didn’t bother to glance at the notes in his hand. Obviously, this was a subject he knew intimately.
“Collaborative law requires participants and attorneys to commit to the process of working together to seek reasonable solutions,” he said. “We negotiate at group meetings, seeking to avoid going to court. The big savings in time and money appeal to many parties who initially resist the idea.”
“What if all this collaboration stuff doesn’t work?” The question, which Melissa considered rude since Edmond hadn’t finished speaking, boomed from a man behind her. Swiveling, she recognized the speaker as Vince Adams, Tiffany and Amber’s stepfather.
Privately, she doubted the billionaire would ever consider negotiating when his vast wealth allowed him to squash opponents through court battles, as he’d done with Rod Vintner over custody of the girls. She doubted that the youngsters’ happiness had entered Vince’s mind.
“Unfortunately, negotiations can fail, but we try to prevent that,” Edmond responded. “Many collaborative law attorneys will not represent their clients should either side choose to litigate their dispute. The prospect of having to start over with new representation encourages clients to work harder for a solution. So does the awareness that they’ll be running up a huge bill with no guarantee they’ll get favorable results.”
“Sounds good in theory, but it has to be damn hard in practice,” Vince responded, as if this were a conversation between him and Edmond.
“It can be,” Edmond agreed. “We have to educate clients that the desire to punish someone else is counterproductive. Breakthroughs occur when both parties are able to accord each other genuine respect.”
He provided a few case histories of extended suits involving surrogacy and adoptions, with names and details changed to protect privacy, and compared these to cases where negotiations had brought about agreements.
“It’s faster and more humane,” he said. “And a lot easier on the attorney’s nervous system.”
Amid chuckles, Edmond opened the floor to further questions. Melissa admired how carefully he listened and how thoughtfully he responded. In several instances in which staffers appeared to be referring to a current situation, he offered to talk to them privately later.
The applause when he finished resounded in Melissa’s ears. She swelled with pride.
In their own divorce, Edmond had behaved decently, dividing their assets down the line. Due to his higher income, he’d conceded to her attorney’s demand for alimony, but that hadn’t felt right to Melissa. While Edmond earned more, he’d also had law school debts and often sent money to his family. She’d inherited enough from her parents to pay off her student loans and tuck away a nest egg. So she’d declined the alimony, and had been rewarded by the gratitude in his eyes.
From an objective viewpoint, they’d behaved well. Internally, however, she’d been devastated. So, she was discovering, had he.
Why couldn’t the man move past his rejection of fatherhood? He was doing so for his niece’s sake. And while taking on three kids would be asking a lot, this man had far more internal resources than he realized.
The idiot needs to be part of a family. And so do I. But Melissa had no idea how to penetrate his bullheaded resistance. He’d have to discover the truth for himself. And that, she feared, might never happen.
Jennifer arose to thank the speaker and the audience. As the crowd dispersed, Edmond descended from the stage alongside the PR director. Melissa edged toward them to say a few words.
He was handing out business cards to a cluster of people, offering to meet with them during his office hours. Before she could move closer, Vince barreled into their midst, all but elbowing her and everyone else aside.
With Mark trailing apologies, everyone departed, including Melissa. Her congratulations could wait until tomorrow, and she didn’t envy him having to talk to Vince.
* * *
EDMOND’S GUARD SHOT up as Vince approached, although he steeled himself to appear courteous. Fortunately, the interruptions during the talk hadn’t thrown him off; lawyers had to be able to adjust their strategies quickly to challenges in a courtroom.
Furthermore, he had a favor to ask of Vince. Although to most men approving a children’s playdate wouldn’t qualify as a favor, he suspected that it might with Vince.
“I liked what you said about respect,” Vince remarked in ringing tones as they shook hands. “Now if you can explain how to impress that on my wife, I’d be grateful.”
What a personal thing to say, Edmond reflected, and how disrespectful of Portia Adams. “Is your wife here?”
“Oh, she’s off with her mom and the kids, spending my money at the mall,” the man responded. “I’ve had to commute from San Diego all summer because they miss Grandma. You see how I indulge her.”
Edmond caught a meaningful glance from Mark. Keep this guy happy was the interpretation. “I’m sure she appreciates it.”
“The hell she does.” Vince didn’t appear to care who overheard his remarks. Luckily the auditorium had emptied out. “You’re probably aware, as the rest of the world is, that part of my interest in this hospital was to consult Dr. Rattigan about my infertility.”
“How’s it going?” Edmond didn’t mean to pry, but Vince had raised the subject.
“The man’s brilliant. The best in his field.” At close range, Vince’s breath carried a note of alcohol. While imbibing at lunch wasn’t unusual, Edmond wondered if Vince was aware of how easily it had loosened his tongue. “He can’t fix what’s wrong with my sperm, but I could father a child using their high-tech magic—if my wife weren’t so uptight.”
“Maybe things can be worked out.” Edmond deliberately kept his response vague.
“With all I’ve done for her, my wife refuses to undergo in vitro,” Vince groused. “Doesn’t want to take the hormones or some such thing. I’m willing to do whatever’s necessary—a procedure that involves sticking a needle into my balls—but she’s too finicky to do her share.”
Despite a wince at the man’s crudeness, Edmond maintained a bland expression. “That’s too bad.”
Actually, he didn’t blame Portia. From what he’d learned, egg retrieval for fertilization in the lab required lengthy and stressful preparations that had serious potential side effects. Portia must be in her early forties, which meant carrying a child would also involve extra risks.
“What about a surrogate?” the administrator asked. “Anything you need is available here.”
“I don’t want a stranger involved, especially when my wife’s presumably still fertile,” Vince growled. “Now I wish I’d never started this business, consulting a men’s fertility specialist. The word’s spread that I’m less than a man. You have no idea what it’s like, having people look down on you for being unable to father a child.”
“Nobody looks down on you,” Mark said.
“Yeah? I can sense how the staff reacts when they
think I don’t notice.” Vince appeared to be building up a head of steam. “It’s time I took my toys and went home.”
Alarm flashed across the administrator’s face. Although Edmond hated to cater to this egotistical man just for the sake of a donation, there was a lot riding on the proposed expansion. Mark had explained that the hospital hoped to convert a nearby former dental building to provide not only labs and treatment facilities for the men’s program but also office space for a wide range of doctors. It would mean some of them, including Jack, would no longer have to work odd hours in shared quarters. And Melissa’s housemate Lucky might be able to use his newly minted administrative degree here at home.
“I do understand some of what you’re experiencing, although it’s my own doing.” In the interest of male bonding, Edmond forced himself to overcome his repugnance at sharing personal details. “I got a vasectomy without considering all the consequences.”
“Such as?”
Might as well tell the whole story. “My wife left me.”
“Ever consider reversing it?” Vince asked, his interest piqued.
“Not really, although if I had it to do over...” Edmond couldn’t finish the sentence, because he wasn’t sure how it ended. Instead, he said, “In any event, I have other priorities at the moment. I have to take guardianship of my niece, the little girl who was with me at the wedding.”
“How come?”
“Dawn’s father is dead and her mom, my sister, is dealing with her own issues.” That provided a chance to bring up Dawn’s request. “By the way, your daughters were a hit with her. It would be great if they could play together before school starts.”
“So that’s who the girls were chattering about—Dawn, you say?”
“That’s her.”
Vince produced a card. “Here’s my cell number. Sure, let’s set it up.”
Edmond reciprocated with his own card. “I’m in learning mode when it comes to parenting. Any tips you can provide would be welcome.” Not that he seriously expected Vince to have worthwhile insights, but even a stopped clock was right twice a day.
“Here’s my advice. Don’t let them get the bit between their teeth or they’ll run you ragged,” the man boomed.
“I’ll remember that.”
Vince beamed in satisfaction. “The hospital made a smart move when they hired you. You’re my kind of guy.”
Edmond couldn’t honestly return the compliment. Instead, he ventured, “Don’t give up on fatherhood yet. Your wife might change her mind.”
“I suppose so. With Dr. Rattigan right here, this is too great an opportunity to pass up,” Vince agreed.
“Maybe we can take the girls to the Bear and Doll Boutique in town,” Edmond suggested. “I understand they offer children’s craft classes.” Geoff Humphreys had suggested the trip, since his mother owned the shop.
“I’ll let you sort that out with my wife,” Vince said.
On that note, they shook hands, and Vince departed with the administrator. Edmond debated stopping by Melissa’s office, but it was after five o’clock and he had to finish preparing for tomorrow’s move.
As he reached his car in the parking structure, his cell rang. It was Mark. “Thank you for bringing Vince down from the ledge,” the administrator said. “You’re a born diplomat.”
“I was planning to ask him about the playdate anyway.” Edmond didn’t want to leave the impression that he enjoyed cozying up to donors.
“Well, he stopped talking about leaving for San Diego right away,” the administrator told him. “Hopefully we’re on track again, especially after I reminded him that the program and the building would bear his name.”
“I’m glad I could help.”
This had been a productive afternoon, Edmond reflected after the call ended. Scoring a success in his consulting job helped restore his sense of balance, which had been shaky since Monday’s sentencing.
He’d been drawn to the law because of its logic, its order, its appeal to the rational. Edmond was most comfortable when employing his intellect, and most like a fish out of water when relying on his instincts.
That was Melissa’s specialty. Facing the next few weeks without relying on her was a daunting prospect, especially since this weekend marked Edmond’s transition into being Dawn’s full-time guardian. Maybe he’d ask her for some last-minute tips....
Chapter Thirteen
You’re officially out of your mind. Ruefully, Melissa watched Edmond sleep in the morning light, his body sprawled across the bed, his tousled hair and bare torso tempting her to rouse him for another round of lovemaking. She should be more restrained, she supposed, but in view of her pregnancy and the fact that Dawn was moving in today, this might be their last such encounter.
Yesterday, while she’d folded the new linens and organized the kitchen, Lucky, Rod and Jack—back from his honeymoon and relieved to find Anya’s belongings already in the apartment—had hauled Edmond’s modest furnishings in his rented van to his new home.
She and Edmond had required only a glance or a few words to decide which item belonged in which room and how to orient the larger pieces of furniture. They shared an aesthetic about such matters.
After the others left, he’d invited Melissa to stay and share takeout. He’d seemed more open and vulnerable than usual, and it had occurred to her that he might be ready to begin a shift in his views about family. To be honest, she’d also craved this last chance to be close to him.
After dinner, they’d watched a documentary about the rapid expansion of Shanghai, one of the cities they’d visited during their marriage. Memories had surged of viewing the city’s impressive museum, enjoying a river cruise at sunset and touring the waterfront Bund area with its colonial-era buildings. How carefree they’d been.
She had no excuses for sliding on his lap and enjoying his caresses save that she wanted to be that lighthearted just once more. With Edmond, she wasn’t just a mother and a counselor, she was also a woman. And there was only one man who’d ever made her feel like one.
But she was putting her heart at risk, and for what? Dreams that refused to come true.
Beside Melissa, Edmond stretched and let out a groan. “I’m stiff as a—is there anything stiffer than a board?”
“An iron rod, although you already have one of those,” she teased.
He laughed. “I’m afraid it may not live up to its reputation right now. Any chance of a massage?”
“I can try.” Leveraging herself to sit on his back, Melissa kneaded the muscles along Edmond’s spine and shoulders. Gradually, his knots dissolved beneath the pressure. He’d kept his body in excellent shape, she noted appreciatively, and his skin was smooth.
“You’re next.” Lazily, he helped her lie on her side. One leg resting lightly atop her thigh, he massaged her from behind, sending tingles of pleasure along her nerve endings. His hands hadn’t lost their expertise in probing exactly the right points.
When he finished, they lay spooning, one of his palms cupping her abdomen. She scarcely noticed the ripple, but he gave a start. “What’s that?”
Melissa sighed. “My girls are playing kickball.”
“Does it hurt?”
“No. It tickles a little, though,” she admitted.
His hand, which had jerked away, rested on her belly again, the heat soothing into her. “Can they feel it when I touch you?” he asked.
“I doubt it. But they can hear your voice.”
“How about this?” Putting his mouth to her stomach, he blew on it, creating a raucous noise.
Chuckling as she pushed him away, Melissa retorted, “That tickles even more!”
“You said they were playing.” His eyes widened in mock innocence.
Could he be changing, viewing these little ones as children ins
tead of a burden? Melissa knew better than to push the issue, though.
“Just wait till they’re crawling all over the carpet. Remember how destructive Dawn was when she was little?” What a cutie their niece had been, Melissa recalled. “They’ll be grabbing things and climbing in our laps and sticking stuff in their mouths.”
“Speaking of putting things in our mouths, how about a cheese Danish?” he asked. “On Sunday mornings, nutrition doesn’t count.”
“Yes, it does, but I’ll make an exception.”
They ate in the kitchen, reading the advance edition of the newspaper they’d bought last night. It might not have the morning news, but all the inside sections were there.
Resting her feet on Edmond’s thighs beneath the table, Melissa reflected that all Sundays should be so companionable and peaceful. Yet before too long, her daughters would be old enough to enjoy the comics with them.
With me, she corrected sadly, and barely restrained the urge to kick him.
Time to go. Although she’d have liked to greet Dawn here at her new home, Melissa didn’t intend to press for that. Also, the pair would be joining her household for dinner tonight.
And maybe talking about the triplets had planted a seed in Edmond’s fertile brain. At the image, she had to hide a smile.
She wasn’t ready to give up on him. Even if that did make her the world’s biggest numbskull.
* * *
“ARE TIFFANY AND Amber here?” Dawn’s wide-eyed gaze met Melissa’s as she opened the door to welcome her niece and Edmond for dinner.
“I’m afraid nothing’s been arranged yet.” Heavens, the child had only moved into her new home today, and already she was eager for a playdate. “Your uncle’s working on it.”
“I sent their parents an email Friday night.” Edmond, his brown hair still damp from the shower, ushered the little girl inside. He’d obviously cleaned up after the move.
Melissa transferred her attention to Dawn, who wore a crisp pink dress and a fresh ribbon in her bouncy brown curls. “My, you look pretty.”
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