One Baby, Two Secrets

by Barbara Dunlop

  “We need to get inside their facility,” Will said. “Proving our case still hinges on accessing their resident servers and finding our proprietary code.”

  “We already tried that.”

  The attempt had been a dismal failure. The technical security was impenetrable, and the server room was on lockdown twenty-four hours a day. The private detective they’d hired to go undercover as a technician was caught trying to gain unauthorized access and was summarily fired.

  “Do you think Quentin might confess something?” Will asked.

  “To me?”

  “To anybody.”

  Brody found his thoughts moving to Kate. If he looked like Kate he might be able to get Quentin to spill his darkest secrets. But he didn’t look like Kate, and so far Quentin didn’t want to talk business with outsiders.

  “I need to find an opportunity to search his house,” Brody said. “If we can’t get into their corporate headquarters, Quentin’s house is the next best bet.”

  “You get caught snooping around? Well, I have to say, those security guys he’s hired seem very serious.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “They have Russian accents.”

  “I know.”

  Brody had heard rumors about Quentin’s financial backers, that they had shady backgrounds and even shadier connections to overseas criminal organizations.

  “I don’t see we have any choice,” he said.

  “There’s always a choice,” Will said.

  “You mean I can make the decision to bankrupt my family?”

  “It’s better than being shot.”

  “Marginally,” Brody said.

  Quite frankly, he’d rather take a bullet than be responsible for losing the Calder estate. The earldom had been in his family for twenty-two generations. They’d had ups and downs over the years. The land had been mortgaged before, but the family had always made it back to better times.

  Five years ago, their financial position had become particularly precarious, and Brody knew they needed to modernize. His brother Blane, the viscount and eldest son of the earl, wanted to develop tourism infrastructure on the estate, starting with a hotel. But Brody worried about the high investment and slow rate of return that were part of Blane’s plan. He knew they needed something faster, so he’d convinced his father to buy Will’s start-up company and go into high-end gaming technology.

  At first, it had worked brilliantly. They’d paid down their debt and were looking forward to moving into the tourism sector. But then Brody got overconfident. He’d borrowed again, borrowed more, and plowed the money into expanding Shetland Tech, creating a new game that he and Will were sure would revolutionize the industry.

  Their logic was solid. So was their research. It should have been a success. It would have been a success. But then Beast Blue Designs had stolen their code and stood a frightening chance of beating them to market.

  If Beast Blue succeeded, it would be impossible to recoup Shetland Tech’s sunk costs, and the company would most certainly go bankrupt. The Calder estate and the castle on the banks of the River Tay would be lost to the family forever.

  “I’m serious,” Will said, setting down the controller. “You can’t mess with those guys.”

  “They already messed with me.”

  Will uttered an exclamation of disgust. “You’re going to get all macho about it?”

  “I’m not getting macho. What I’m getting is smart. If we can’t infiltrate the company, then we’ll come at it from another angle, through Quentin. The man drinks and parties to excess. He’s not as sharp as he should be, and I’ve succeeded in becoming his new pal.”

  “That’s because you’re pretending to be exciting and likable.”

  “I like to think I’m generally both,” Brody said with a straight face.

  Will flashed a grin. “Right. Sure. Let’s call you that. But you can’t expect to meet Quentin Roo’s standards.”

  “I’m definitely not the life of some parties,” Brody said. He had absolutely no desire to be the life of Quentin’s parties.

  His phone buzzed on the low table in front of him.

  Will stayed silent while he picked it up.

  “Blane,” he answered warmly. He didn’t have any good news for his brother, but he was still glad to hear from him.

  Blane coughed into the phone. “Hi, Brody.”

  Brody was immediately concerned. “What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Blane coughed again. “It’s nothing. Mother has me steaming in the bathroom.”

  Brody relaxed a little, since he knew that at the first sign of a problem their mother would hover over Blane. He glanced at his watch. “It’s late there.”

  “Have you signed up to be my nanny?”

  “If you’re sick—”

  “A tickle in my chest is not sick. I’m humoring her. I don’t need to humor you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Oliver Masterson came by today.”

  The information gave Brody pause. Oliver Masterson was the head architect on the family’s hotel development project. Oliver shouldn’t have much to do at the moment, because it was a long-term plan, with nothing substantive happening for years down the road. Brody thought they were all clear on the timing.

  He spoke to his brother in a cautious tone. “We’re only looking for preliminary drawings right now.”

  “We were. We are,” said Blane. “He only wanted to see the site. He likes the view of the lake.”

  “Who wouldn’t?”

  The east meadow was one of Brody’s favorite spots on the entire three-hundred-acre estate. If he’d had his way, they’d have built a house there and turned the castle into a hotel. But his mother wouldn’t hear of moving from the family’s traditional home.

  “He wants the building to go higher,” said Blane.

  “Higher than three stories?”

  “I know that puts us into a whole new category of construction. But we need to think of the long term, our children’s children and beyond. The high-end market provides the best return on investment.”

  “You’ve been talking to the town council again.” A large, five-star hotel on the Calder lands would have spin-off effects to any number of local businesses.

  Blane coughed again. “You know they’re right.”

  “I understand where you’re coming from, Blane.”

  “And you agree with me.”

  Brody did agree. Like their ancestors before them, they had an obligation to support the surrounding community. He agreed there was growth potential in luxury tourism. The only problem he had was cash flow. They needed significant cash to flow in order to underwrite his brother’s dream. Right now, they didn’t have it.

  “Don’t sign anything today,” he said.

  “I won’t. Are you close?” Blane knew only the broad strokes of the problem with Beast Blue Designs. He didn’t know how precarious their financial situation had become.

  “Getting closer,” said Brody, knowing he was going to have to make something happen soon or confess to his family the full extent of their problems.

  “Let me know how it goes.” Blane’s coughing started again.

  “I will. Get better.”

  Blane wheezed out a laugh. “I’m in good hands.”

  Brody couldn’t help but smile as he set down the phone. Their mother the countess was a force of nature.

  “Problem?” asked Will.

  “They want to make the hotel bigger.”

  “Let me guess. They accomplish that by spending more money.”

  “I knew you weren’t just a pretty face.” Brody suddenly felt tired and momentarily defeated. “It’s
always about more money. We need to win this thing, Will. And we need to do it soon.”

  “Okay,” said Will, squaring his shoulders. “Let’s hope Quentin is the kind of guy who brings his work home with him. If you can get in front of his home computer, I can tell you what to look for. But don’t get caught, and whatever you do don’t get shot by the Russian bodyguards.”

  Brody frowned. “I have no intention of getting shot.”

  “Nobody plans to get shot,” said Will. “It happens all of a sudden and usually at the most inconvenient time.”

  Three

  Kate had wrangled an invitation back to Quentin’s Sunday night. She had been hoping to talk to him alone and maybe even meet Annabelle. But she’d been disappointed on both fronts.

  Annabelle had been put to bed by the nanny before Kate arrived, and Quentin didn’t even show his face. His friends didn’t seem to care, though, guzzling liquor, dancing on the furniture and frolicking in the pool to music from a live band in the gazebo.

  She’d had no desire to party, but she was more determined than ever to meet Annabelle. So when she saw a woman passed out on a sofa, she’d come up with an idea. As the party wore down, she found a quiet corner and pretended to do the same.

  There was no way she was dozing off amidst intoxicated strangers. So she lay there awake until 4:00 a.m. when the last guests had stumbled away.

  Chilled and exhausted, she’d finally closed her eyes.

  At five, the cleaners showed up and began straightening the furniture and clearing up the debris—empty bottles, broken glass, garbage and cigarette butts discarded everywhere. At six, they turned on vacuum cleaners and began to filter the pool water.

  Giving up on the idea of sleeping, Kate found a bathroom. She gazed at her smudged makeup, mussed hair and the dark circles under her eyes. Lack of sleep made her look exactly like a woman who’d partied too hard two nights in a row. It was depressing, but there was no denying it would help her disguise. She ran a comb through her hair and wiped away the worst of the mascara smudges, then her thoughts turned to coffee.

  As she moved down the hallway, she heard a woman’s voice chirping happily about it being a beautiful day and how she was warming a bottle that would be delicious. Kate guessed it had to be the nanny talking to Annabelle. Her chest swelled with anticipation, and she picked up her pace, following the voice.

  “You look so pretty this morning,” the nanny singsonged. “Such a smiley girl.”

  Kate moved through the archway into a bright, airy kitchen, to see a young woman in blue jeans and an orange T-shirt, holding a baby against one shoulder and a bottle in the opposite hand.

  “Are you hungry?” the young woman asked Annabelle in a gentle voice, and then she spotted Kate.

  “Oh,” she said, her expression sobering. “Hello. I didn’t realize anyone was here.”

  “Leftover from last night,” Kate offered in an apologetic tone, smoothing a hand over her messy hair.

  “Can I help you with something?” the woman asked, her voice and manner becoming reserved.

  Kate couldn’t keep her gaze from Annabelle. The baby girl had blond hair and big blue eyes in a sweet, delicate-looking face. Her pink mouth was perfect, and she was dressed in a white romper dotted with colored hearts.

  “I’m...” Kate struggled for words. “I was hoping to meet Annabelle.”

  The woman’s gaze narrowed, and she drew almost imperceptibly back.

  Kate was reminded of how she looked and of the impression she must be giving.

  “I’m Kate Dunhern,” she quickly put in. “Francie’s sister.”

  When the woman didn’t immediately respond, it occurred to Kate that she might be new on the job.

  “Did you know Francie?” Kate asked.

  “I didn’t know she had a sister.” The woman was still obviously cautious.

  “We weren’t close.”

  “She never mentioned you.”

  Kate kept her voice calm and mild. She didn’t mind that the nanny was protective. “I can answer some questions about Francie. Or I can show you some identification.”

  The offers seemed to dispel the woman’s fears. “That won’t be necessary. I’m Christina Alder, Annabelle’s nanny.”

  “I guessed that,” said Kate, taking a step forward. “She’s adorable.”

  Christina smiled fondly at Annabelle. “Isn’t she? She’s a sweetheart, good as gold.”

  “Have you been taking care of her long?” Kate moved closer still, taking it slow, smiling at Annabelle, trying not to startle the baby.

  “From the day she was born,” said Christina.

  Kate reached out and touched Annabelle’s little hand with her finger.

  “Baa,” said Annabelle.

  “Baa, yourself.” Kate smiled. “I’m your auntie Kate.”

  Annabelle wiggled, and Christina shifted her hold.

  “You’re a friend of Quentin’s?” asked Christina.

  Kate shook her head. “I only just met him on Saturday. I came home for...” She paused. “Well, I was disappointed they didn’t have a service for Francie. And then I learned about Annabelle.”

  Annabelle wrapped her fist around Kate’s index finger, and a shaft of warmth shot straight to Kate’s heart.

  “She misses her mommy,” said Christina. But there was something off in her tone, as if she was being polite rather than sincere.

  “It’s good that she has you.”

  “Yes,” said Christina, sounding more sincere. “It helps.”

  “And there’s Quentin,” said Kate, opening the door for a comment about Quentin’s abilities as a father.

  “There are a lot of demands on his schedule.” Christina’s tone was neutral.

  “He seems very busy.”

  “He is very busy.” Christina paused. “He loves his daughter, though.”

  “I’m sure he does.”

  Annabelle started to squirm, and her face twisted into a frown.

  “She’s hungry,” said Christina.

  “I’m sorry I interrupted.”

  “Not at all. I just need to sit down to feed her.”

  Kate stepped back to give them some room. She wasn’t sure if she should leave, but she desperately wanted to stay.

  Christina climbed into a padded chair at the breakfast bar and adjusted Annabelle across one forearm, popping the bottle into the baby’s mouth. Annabelle began to suck and her eyes fluttered closed.

  “She’s very patient,” said Christina. “Most babies cry from the time you get them up to the time they get their bottles.”

  “Have you cared for a lot of babies?”

  “I’ve had my diploma for four years. I did a lot of fill-in work for the first two, and my last posting was newborn twins.” Christina smiled. “They were a handful.” She smoothed a lock of hair across Annabelle’s forehead.

  “Boys or girls?” asked Kate, easing her way onto one of the other chairs.

  “Boys. We got them into a routine at about four months. Mom took them on by herself when they hit six months. She still sends me email updates.”

  “They’re doing well?” Kate continued to watch Annabelle.

  “They just had their first birthday. They’re finally both sleeping through the night.” Christina sobered. “I’m very sorry about your sister.”

  “Me, too,” said Kate. “I hadn’t seen her in a long time. Well, I guess you would know that since I haven’t been to see Annabelle. I didn’t even know Francie was pregnant.”

  Christina didn’t respond to that. Kate supposed there wasn’t a whole lot more to say on the subject.

  “I’m glad she had Annabelle and Quentin in her life,” said Kate.

  Christina’s brow furrowed ever so slightly
“You know we lived in the gatehouse, right?”

  Kate wasn’t sure what that meant. “The gatehouse?”

  “Quentin and Francie, they weren’t... They weren’t together as a couple. He said he liked having Annabelle close by, but I understood his relationship with Francie was short-lived.” Christina glanced away, as if she was aware that she’d shared too much.

  “Thanks for telling me that. I didn’t know.”

  Cristina didn’t answer, instead adjusting the bottle at Annabelle’s mouth.

  “It was nice that Francie could live here,” said Kate, glancing around at the huge, ultramodern kitchen.

  From where she sat, she could see the estate grounds and the city beyond. The great room was behind her with its expensive furniture and art, the plush carpeting and a massive stone fireplace across one entire wall. If the gatehouse was any comparison to the main house, Francie had lived in the lap of luxury.

  “She did enjoy the lifestyle,” said Christina.

  Kate could well imagine, at least from what she remembered of her sister. “Quentin seems to throw her kind of parties.”

  “He does,” said Christina, removing the bottle from Annabelle’s mouth and holding the baby against her chest to pat Annabelle’s back. “She definitely liked the nightlife better than the mornings.”

  “I remember that about her.”

  “But she had me. So she didn’t need to worry about the mornings.”

  A male voice interrupted their conversation. “Sorry to barge in.”

  Kate stood, turning to see the man she’d met Saturday night.

  Brody Herrington looked a whole lot fresher than she felt in her crumpled cocktail dress. He’d topped a pair of well-worn jeans with a crisp charcoal dress shirt.

  “I wouldn’t have taken you for an early riser,” he said to Kate.

  She stuck to her story. “The vacuuming woke me up.”

  “I’ll get out of your way,” said Christina, her demeanor immediately changing to deference as she rose with Annabelle.

  Kate wanted to tell her not to leave, to ask her to please stay and talk some more. She wanted to learn about her sister and Annabelle’s life here with Quentin. But she couldn’t risk tipping her hand. If Quentin knew she was here to judge his fitness as a parent, he would send her packing.