Three steps in and the baby stopped fussing.
Trina was a natural.
“You make that look easy,” Sasha found herself saying.
“It’s not. Lord knows I wish it was.” Trina repositioned her baby on her other shoulder and that’s when all hell broke loose. As in Lilliana decided breakfast didn’t agree with her stomach and she tossed all her cookies on Trina’s chest.
Trina stopped moving. “Oh, boy.” She looked at her daughter. “I bet you feel better.” Trina grabbed a towel lying on the kitchen counter and wiped her baby’s face.
Lilliana seemed oblivious of the mess she’d just created.
Trina, on the other hand, lifted Lilliana away from her chest and looked at Sasha. “Can you . . . while I clean this off?” she asked.
And without approval, Trina handed Sasha the baby, barely giving her enough time to put her coffee cup down. “I, ah . . .”
“I’ll be right back. I’m sure she’s done puking.”
And Trina was gone.
Alone in the center of the kitchen, Sasha held a human who was less than a year old.
Lilliana regarded her with a similar expression to her own. One that said, Who the hell is this and what am I supposed to do with them?
Only Lilliana had a better grip on what to do. She reached out with her chubby, albeit sticky, hand and grabbed Sasha’s nose.
And then laughed.
Giggled.
“What’s so funny?”
Apparently, her question was amusing, since Lilliana giggled again.
A sticky baby hand was on her nose and all she could do was smile. “You defile your mother’s shirt, and now you’re making fun of my nose. I’m not sure I can trust you.”
Lilliana thought the comment was worth another round of laughter.
Sasha moved her to her hip and walked toward the sink. There she ran the water and started to clean off the sticky. “You’re kinda a mess, kid.”
More giggles.
It was hard not to smile.
Lilliana wasn’t as cooperative as Sasha had assumed she would be when it came to water and soap. She pushed her hands away and moved her face from side to side to avoid being cleaned. Still, Sasha managed. “I’m always going to win this . . . you might as well get used to it.”
Now that the sponge bath was done, she grinned and went back to playing with Sasha’s nose.
“Oh my God . . . that’s a baby.”
Claire stood in the doorway to the kitchen, her mouth open.
“Are you sure you’ve earned your diploma at Richter?” Sasha asked, teasing.
Claire walked closer, her eyes glued to Lilliana. “You know Richter. No one brings babies around.”
How sad that Sasha knew exactly what Claire was going through. Babies were not a part of their lives as orphans. At least not once they moved to Richter. No nieces or nephews, brothers or sisters. No. They had no barometers for children unless they were in the primary education dorms at the school.
But holding a kid?
Had she ever held one?
Sasha found herself holding Lilliana tighter. As if she couldn’t gauge if she held her hard enough to avoid dropping her.
“You’re up . . . good.” Trina walked back into the room, a new shirt and pair of jeans covered her legs. “What do you want for breakfast?”
Sasha turned to Trina to give her the baby, only to find her sister-in-law moving to the refrigerator.
“Eggs? Bacon. This is a working farm, we have plenty of breakfast food.”
Claire moved to the kitchen window. “A real farm?”
“Cattle ranch. But Wade insisted on chickens and a garden. Not that I pretend to take care of any of that. But the eggs are good.” Trina moved around the kitchen, pulling a pan from a cabinet and eggs from a basket.
“I thought you said Wade was a country singer,” Claire said.
“He is. But the first part of that is country. And Wade is all that and more before he’s a singer.”
While Trina and Claire carried on, Sasha and Lilliana regarded each other in silence.
Something told Sasha that the silence wouldn’t last for long.
“If he’s so famous, why are you cooking?” Claire asked.
The question captured Sasha’s attention.
Trina moved around the kitchen. “Well, when Neil called and said you were coming, we gave some of our help the week off. Probably better that they don’t see who is here until we clear up any legal details.” Trina glanced at Sasha, then back to Claire. Sasha had brought Claire up to speed on the investigation into AJ’s sister’s death on the flight over. The news didn’t appear to impact her as much as seeing a baby. “Besides, I don’t mind cooking. Once my mother-in-law finally moved out, I had an opportunity to cook a little more.”
“Your mother-in-law lived here?”
“For a short time.” Trina glanced at Sasha. Kept her answers short to Claire.
They both knew Trina’s mother-in-law took a little work to move on after the marriage.
“I can’t imagine living in a house with a mother-in-law.”
Trina opened her mouth, only to have Claire cut her off. “Or even a mother.”
“Oh.” Trina stood dumbfounded. “I can’t imagine.”
Claire shrugged. “It’s okay. Right, Sasha? We turned out okay.”
“Yup.”
Claire smiled at the baby to have that grin returned. “Can I hold her?”
“Sure,” Trina said. “If she starts to squirm, just sit down on the floor with her. She’s scooting around pretty well these days.”
Claire reached her hands out to take her, and Sasha found herself reluctant to let go. “Don’t drop her, even if she pukes on you.”
Trina laughed.
“I won’t. C’mere, cutie.”
Once Sasha’s arms were free, she picked up her coffee again. It’d been strangely satisfying to hold her, if even for a few minutes.
Trina cracked eggs into a bowl. “Did you want some, Sasha?”
“That would be nice.”
Claire made faces and laughed when Lilliana tried to mimic her. It wasn’t long before both of them were on the floor next to a pile of toys.
Bacon started to pop on the stove, dragging Sasha out of her baby trance. “Let me help you.”
“I didn’t know you cooked,” Trina said.
“I don’t. But I can manage bacon.”
“My talents are limited, too.” She lowered her voice. “Wade’s cook is teaching me. And Wade is the master of a grill, so we won’t starve.”
Together they managed eggs, bacon, and biscuits. The biscuits were courtesy of the hired chef that wasn’t there.
They ate and let Lilliana entertain them.
Claire asked questions about the ranch and kept Sasha from having to talk.
“I need to wash my clothes,” she told Trina when they were finished eating.
“I can do that—”
She shook her head. “If you can direct me to the laundry room, I’ll manage.”
Trina smiled and motioned her to follow. “You have the baby, okay?” she asked Claire, who was content with the task of babysitting.
“It’s just you and me, kid. Let’s go pick up some guys,” Claire said in a high-pitched voice.
They walked up the stairs and toward the bedrooms. “Grab your clothes. I’ll show you the laundry room on this floor.”
“You have two?”
“If you count the guesthouse and the staff quarters, we have four. Crazy, right? There is another laundry pair downstairs, but it’s used mainly for cleaning towels and household stuff.”
“It’s a big place.”
“Huge. And if Wade has his way, it will be even bigger in the next couple of years.”
“Oh, why?”
“He wants his daughter to live here forever. He thinks that if he can buy neighboring ranches, she can have one and always be close by.”
They stopped in her guest r
oom and Sasha gathered an armful of clothes. “He’s a good dad.”
“He really is.”
Sasha was happy they’d found each other.
“Is that all you have?” Trina asked.
Sasha glanced at her laundry pile. “We weren’t shopping when we left Europe.”
“I guess that’s true. You know, you and Shannon are about the same size. She has several outfits here. I’m sure she won’t mind you using them. Now that we’re all having babies, it makes sense to leave clothes at each other’s houses. Packing for kids is hard enough.” Shannon was one of Trina’s friends who lived in California.
“I’m not sure—”
“At least borrow something while you’re doing laundry. She has great taste.” Trina led her into a guest room, this one with a crib. She opened the closet and pushed through several hangers. “This is Shannon’s stash.”
Sasha looked down at what she was wearing, then back to the closet. The blue jeans were stylish enough. “You sure?”
“Of course. You change. I’ll grab a laundry basket.”
After sliding into jeans and an olive green short-waisted sweater, Sasha checked her appearance in a mirror. Not her normal outfit, but it worked. She turned to look at her back and grinned. Even her skinny butt looked good in denim.
In the laundry room, Trina stuck around and helped.
And by helping, Sasha meant did the work. “Wade and I hope you’ll consider coming over for Christmas. We’re going to California for Thanksgiving, since Lori will have the youngest babies. I know Reed and Lori would love to see you.”
“Reed mentioned it.”
“So you’ll come?”
“We need to clear up all this before I can even speculate where I’ll be.”
Trina’s face told Sasha that she knew the chances of her showing up were slim . . . even if everything going on in her life at that moment was in the past. As a polite woman, however, she didn’t say a thing.
With the washer doing the work, they walked back downstairs, where Sasha planned on making a quick exit to find Neil. Talking about babies, cooking, and laundry was not in her skill set, and all the domestic stuff was weighing on her.
They found Claire sitting on the floor, her legs stretched out in front of her, and Lilliana curled up on her shoulder, fast asleep.
Both Sasha and Trina stopped in the doorway to stare.
Claire held the baby while quiet tears slid down her cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” Trina asked softly.
Claire bit her lips and tried to talk. “I-I don’t know how any mom can walk away.”
While Sasha stared, Trina moved in and knelt down to her level. “Oh, honey.”
Sasha realized then that Claire had been abandoned, not orphaned. The results were the same, but the trauma was completely different.
Claire started to cry with shuddered breaths.
A knot in Sasha’s throat caught.
“Here, let me take her.” Trina reached for her daughter.
Once Lilliana was on her mother’s shoulder, Trina offered to help Claire up with a free hand.
Once on her feet, Claire walked straight to Sasha and placed her tear-streaked face on her chest. Claire’s arms wrapped around her with a sob.
For a minute, Sasha just stood there, unsure what to do. No one had ever thrown themselves in her arms and cried before. One look at Trina and Sasha closed Claire into an embrace. One that sparked more tears.
It took a lot of effort to hold back emotion.
Sasha couldn’t remember the last time she’d let that emotion happen, but it sure wanted to now. “Some people suck,” she told Claire.
“Yeah.”
The door leading from the kitchen to the outside opened and AJ walked in beside Wade.
Both men stopped when they saw the crying teenager.
AJ stepped forward. “What happened?”
Claire sucked in a breath and pulled away to collect herself. She looked up at Sasha with a brave face.
“Just a little female bonding,” Trina announced.
Claire smiled through her pain.
“C’mon, Claire, help me put Lilly down for her nap.”
Claire jumped at the opportunity to leave and Sasha was faced with the men alone.
“Is she okay?” AJ asked.
“She’s fine.” Sasha turned and wiped away a single tear that had managed to escape the jail she’d put it in.
Chapter Nineteen
AJ had never been in a war room before, but he was fairly certain the space Neil and his band of merry men congregated in resembled one. The night before, he’d met Cooper and Isaac, two of Neil’s security guards. Jeb was Wade’s personal bodyguard, who lived onsite and had joined them that morning. Two more men AJ hadn’t been introduced to were brought in to relieve the man at the front entrance, as well as one on the far end of the property where deliveries were made for the working ranch portion of the estate. From AJ’s count, there were eight armed guards onsite, not to mention the ranch hands, who had been told that there was a viable threat and they needed to report to Jeb or Neil if they saw or suspected anything.
They had taken over the guesthouse, moving living room furniture aside to make room for fold-up tables and laptop computers. The kitchen table was littered with pictures and information that eventually made it up onto the wall. In the center of the data sat an image of Amelia. Subject zero. Unlike anyone else on the wall who had died, the guys in the room hadn’t put a black line through her image. AJ was pretty sure that was to save his feelings.
He watched from the side of the room while men buzzed around.
When the front door opened and Sasha walked in, three of the guys stopped what they were doing and stared.
“Sasha?” Cooper asked.
She narrowed her eyes. “You saw me last night,” she said to him.
He looked her up and down. “Yeah, but I didn’t know you owned anything that wasn’t black.” Cooper started to laugh and one of the other guys joined him.
“I don’t. This is borrowed.”
Cooper laughed harder. “Thank God. I was going to ask Wade if there was a doctor in the house to make sure you were feeling okay.”
She walked by with a glare.
The man obviously knew her well. Personally, AJ liked the relaxed jeans and sweater look. The new clothes softened her hard edges. Or maybe that was Claire’s doing.
She stood across from the wall of pictures and crossed her arms over her chest. “Where are we?” she asked.
Cooper stepped around her and waved a pen in the air. “Hold up, let’s get Reed online.”
Sasha nodded and stepped back.
AJ moved to her side. “Why Reed?”
“He’s the private investigator. He sees things others don’t.”
One of the monitors picked up a live feed of a clean-cut man sitting behind a computer. “Hello.”
“How’s the picture?” Cooper asked.
“It’s clear. Is Sasha there?”
Sasha moved in front of the camera. “Good morning. Are you a father yet?”
“Any day.” Reed peered closer into his camera. “Are you wearing a sweater?”
Cooper chuckled.
“Yes.” Sasha was irritated. “Are we doing this or talking fashion?”
“Get your panties out of your ass,” Reed said, laughing. “Is AJ there?”
AJ stepped up. “Nice to see you in person,” he said.
Reed nodded his approval. “Glad you filled out since your high school mug shot.”
“That was a closed file.”
“I have a can opener. Okay, let’s get on with this. Turn the camera around and bring me up to date.”
Cooper ran the meeting and used a yardstick to point at the wall. “Since Hofmann is our subject, we started there. Green dots signify covert intelligence. Information we were able to obtain from the liberated files off the dean’s computer.”
“Headmistress,” Sasha corrected
.
“The headmistress’s computer. Hofmann did qualify for the green dot, as well as a yellow, signifying political ties and access.” Cooper glanced at AJ. “Black dots are for honor marks in weapons and hand-to-hand combat. Again, not marks that Hofmann obtained.”
“Do we have the school’s definition of covert intelligence?” Reed asked.
“There are two. At least that’s what was indicated in the files. Computer skills, which included writing code or hacking into the back doors of computers. And observed intelligence through pranks and mischief the students got into while attending the school.”
“Sasha, did the school teach you how to hack into a computer?”
“Not in the general education classes.”
“So that’s a yes.”
“More of a problem-solving course. That some of us might have used to learn how to obtain information not otherwise given to us freely.”
“You should go into politics, Sasha,” one of the men in the room said.
“AJ, did you know your sister could hack?” Neil asked.
“That’s news to me. She could always fix our computers . . . but hacking?”
Sasha stepped forward. “If I remember Amelia, she was always following the rules. I doubt she was on the intelligence list for foul play.”
“Okay, let’s move on.”
Cooper explained the lines drawn from Amelia to the two other deceased women, and the third that was missing. “Roommates at one time or another. Notice zero dots. Jocey and Keri graduated Richter, but they weren’t going to be recruited for the CIA. Olivia, our missing student, however, has a stacked deck.”
“Have we located her?” Reed asked.
“Nope. Just the location in Germany that AJ has reported as furnished but empty of anything personal.”
The door opened and several heads turned to see Claire walk in the house.
“Who are all these other people on the board?” Reed asked.
Cooper glanced at the new addition to the room and continued. “Using this model, we’ve gone through and singled out those students with all the dots and then pulled their roommates during their senior year. If we found the potential recruits working, living with a family and seemingly normal jobs, we’ve indicated it with a bright orange dot. No explained or unexplained demise of anyone.”
Say It Again (First Wives) Page 16