“Nine fifty-five. He might decide to be late just to rattle you.”
As fear wound a tighter web around Alicia’s heart, she stopped pacing long enough to respond, “He’s already rattled me.”
Jon found the office building easily. It was a five-story block-and-glass structure housing a roster of businesses. When Alicia Fallon had called him, she’d been icily polite and curt. But he didn’t care. This meeting was all that mattered. His daughter was all that mattered.
He went to the suite number Alicia had given him. The name on the glass door announced—Fourstar Office Products. The receptionist looked up from her word processor as Jon approached. When he gave Alicia’s name, the woman directed him down a hall to the third door on the left.
The name Ariana McKendall was on the door with the title, Account Manager, painted underneath. Jon pushed open the already ajar door and saw Alicia standing at the window, gazing out. He would recognize her blond hair and her ramrod straight posture anywhere. But when he caught a glimpse of the woman seated behind the desk, he blinked and examined her once more. She had Alicia’s face! Her hair was more yellow-blond rather than the deep honey of Alicia’s, and it was cut in a bob around her face rather than worn longer and flowing like the woman’s who was standing at the window. But the resemblance was uncanny.
The blonde behind the desk saw him first. “Mr. Wescott?”
Alicia turned around. Her face was composed as she faced him. “Mr. Wescott, this is my sister, Ariana McKendall.”
Ariana stood. “Mr. Wescott, if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit in.”
“Ria, that’s not necessary,” Alicia protested.
“I don’t mind,” he said curtly to them both. “Who is or isn’t here won’t change the facts. I’m Emily’s father.”
Ria pointed to the two chairs in front of the desk. “Why don’t you have a seat.”
Jon could tell this sister was used to being in charge, just as her bold, harlequin-patterned dress told him her tastes and Alicia’s were different. Alicia sat, her knees tilted to one side in a ladylike position under her mint green linen skirt. She folded her hands in her lap. As Jon took the other chair, his suit coat brushed her arm. Her gaze smacked into his.
Her blue eyes were guarded. He wished he could say something to put her more at ease, but this wasn’t an easy situation.
Once he was seated, Alicia spoke first. “Just because you say you’re Emily’s father doesn’t make it so. What proof do you have?”
Jon had expected the inquiry. He withdrew a copy of Cecile’s letter from his inside pocket and held it out to Alicia. “It’s self-explanatory. You can keep that copy. The name of my lawyer and his number is attached in case you want to check to make sure what I say is true.”
She was very careful not to let her fingers touch his, and that annoyed him, though he didn’t understand why. As she read the letter, her hand tightened on the paper, her knuckles straining to almost white. She handed it to her sister. “That doesn’t prove anything. If Cecile Braddock lied once, she could be lying again.”
“People don’t ordinarily leave lies with their wills,” he countered.
“That depends,” Ria argued. “It could be wishful thinking on her part.”
Jon met Ria’s implication head-on. “Cecile and I saw each other exclusively when she lived in Los Angeles.”
“You can’t be sure of that,” Ria returned.
“I knew Cecile Braddock. I would be perceptive enough to know if someone else was in the picture. There was no one else.” Cecile’s job had consumed her. Jon knew she hadn’t had time for anyone else; they barely had time for each other. He added, “The last time Cecile and I were together was at the end of September, a month before she left the West Coast. When’s Emily’s birthday?”
Alicia threw her sister a frightened look. “June 27.”
Knowing the two sisters were calculating, too, he made his point. “The dates work.”
Alicia’s cheeks pinkened.
Ria challenged him. “But your theory doesn’t necessarily work, Mr. Wescott. You can think you know someone. The best of us can be deceived, especially when our hearts are involved.”
The woman’s response was too vehement not to have come from personal experience. “That might be true for you. I always think with my head, not any other part of my anatomy.” With a quick glance at Alicia, he noticed her flush had deepened. Ria seemed unaffected. “At any rate, your observation is meaningless. I’m willing to undergo paternity testing if necessary.”
“I won’t put Emily through that,” Alicia argued.
“You might not have any choice.” His boardroom voice was as sharp as steel.
Alicia’s shoulders straightened. “I always have a choice. I will not do anything detrimental to Emily.”
“If a judge orders the test, you will have no choice. All the test requires is a blood sample.”
The seriousness of his intent must have sunk in because Alicia grew pale. “What do you want, Mr. Wescott?”
“For now, I want time with my daughter. I want to get to know her, and I want her to know I’m her father. Eventually I want specific visitation rights and possibly joint custody.”
“No!”
He wished he could take the stricken look from Alicia’s face, but he couldn’t. “Yes. And I’ll do whatever I have to do to get what I want. As I told you, I’m willing to be reasonable about a monetary settlement.”
Alicia hopped out of her chair. “As I told you before, Mr. Wescott, your money is worthless to me. You can’t buy me or my daughter. Have you even stopped to think about Emily? You talk about what you want. What about her? I will not have her life…disrupted…turned upside down. She’s secure and she has a minimum of fears for a child her age. I won’t have her scared, afraid you’re going to take her away from me.”
“Aren’t they your fears, Alicia, not hers?” he asked calmly, though inside he was anything but calm.
“No,” Alicia repeated as if the word could somehow stop him. “You have no right—”
He stood and faced her, not wanting to intimidate her, but wanting to show her she had to deal with him. “I’m going to prove I do.”
Clasping her hands in front of her, she insisted, “I won’t cooperate with you. I won’t hurt Emily.”
“If you don’t cooperate, you will hurt Emily.”
Determination settled around her mouth, between her brows. “We’ll see about that. You want to go to court? Fine. We’ll go to court. You’re not going to threaten me with that. Anyone who knows anything about children would believe her best interests are to stay with me. I’m her mother.”
He didn’t want to hurt this woman, but he wouldn’t give up his daughter. “You’re her adoptive mother. I’m her natural father. My rights were ignored when she was born. They won’t be again. If I don’t hear from you or your lawyer by the end of the week defining some way we can come to terms on this, you’ll hear from my lawyer. Good day, ladies.” Jon strode out of the office, anger and fear burning in his gut.
Once he was in the hall, he turned back for a moment. Long enough to see Ria go to Alicia and put her arm around her sister’s shoulders.
He turned away. He had an appointment to make. With a Pennsylvania lawyer.
Jon used the rowing machine in the hotel’s gym more to relieve tension than to work out. Try as he would, he couldn’t get the picture out of his head of Ria comforting Alicia. Or Alicia pushing Emily on the swing, or hugging her, or looking at her with enough love to prepare her for life. Too many parents didn’t know where to begin to guide their kids. His father sure hadn’t; he’d only known how to relate to adults—adults he could command, or use to get what he wanted. He’d used Jon the same way. If it hadn’t been for his mother…
Cecile had used him, too. Dreaming of children with Cecile Braddock, Jon hadn’t realized how much he’d cared for her until the day she told him her career was more important than he was and any future they mi
ght have. He’d felt betrayed and manipulated into a relationship he’d had every intention of forging into a strong marriage. But one person couldn’t make a marriage, and as he discovered, Cecile had no intention of trying. She’d needed his contacts and his family’s social status to further her career. And she’d done it.
He’d been bitter and angry until it had eaten away any joy he could find in life. Then somehow, after his father died and Jon had too much work to accomplish to take time to eat or sleep, he’d realized the anger and bitterness had faded, leaving caution and a defensive detachment in its wake. He got involved with women, but he never let his heart get involved, too. Never again.
He’d been rowing with such a feverish determination that the gym attendant gave him a warning glare. As the sweat dripped from Jon’s brow, he slowed down and again saw Alicia’s image in front of his eyes. From what he’d seen, she was a different type of woman from those he’d known. The anguish on her face when he’d said he might go after custody had twisted his heart.
Swearing, he stopped rowing. He thought about Alicia and her feelings, really thought about them, for the first time. How would he feel if he’d adopted and nurtured a child and someone charged into his life demanding time, rights, custody? He’d use every iota of strength he possessed to hold on tightly, to explore every option so he didn’t have to give an inch.
Yes, he’d made an appointment with the lawyer Adam had recommended. But he suddenly realized that, at this point, a lawyer and decrees would only make Alicia more stubborn, more possessive, more determined to hold on to her daughter with both hands. And what would that do to Emily?
A few hours later, Jon stood at Alicia’s front door rather than her office door. He rang the bell and waited.
When she came to the foyer and saw him, her sweetly curved mouth tightened to a disapproving frown. “We have nothing to discuss.”
“I know you want to slam the door in my face. And I don’t blame you. You think I’m trying to take something away from you. But that’s not true.”
“Not something. My daughter.”
He tried a different tack, forcing his voice to remain calm. “You and I are intelligent enough to know that lawyers are going to complicate this.”
She hesitated for a moment. “Exactly what do you want? I won’t let you disrupt Emily’s life.”
“Then help me not to. Let’s work something out between us that will benefit all of us.”
Alicia shook her head. “You want to benefit yourself, Mr. Wescott. Are you really thinking about Emily at all, let alone me?”
“Let’s go to dinner and discuss it.” Before she could deny him without thinking about it, he pressed on. “A dinner can’t hurt. Neither can talking.” He saw fear flicker in her eyes. Unreasonably he didn’t want her to fear him. He didn’t want her to fear anyone. “What do you say?”
“I can’t tonight. I promised Emily I’d take her for pizza.”
“And you don’t break your promises.”
“Not if I can help it.”
He wanted to go along with them. He wanted to get close to his daughter, and he also wanted to find out more about Alicia. She’d been reserved around him before she’d known what he wanted. Was she that way with everyone? “Tomorrow night, then.”
“Let me think about it. I’ll let you know.”
If he backed off now, it might pay off in the long run. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you.” But he wouldn’t wait too long.
Her hands were clutched in front of her, her forehead creased with worry. Before he knew where it came from, he found himself reassuring her. “Alicia, I don’t want to harm you or Emily in any way.”
“That remains to be seen.”
Her walls were sturdily in place. Jon understood walls. He wondered about the reasons behind Alicia Fallon’s.
Jon waited two days. He wasn’t good at waiting, never had been. Finally, taking matters into his own hands, he went to a deli and had a picnic dinner prepared.
Walking up to Alicia’s door again, he wondered if he should have bought fast food instead. Too late now. He felt more certain about the two-foot colorful stuffed parrot he’d brought for Emily. What kid wouldn’t like it?
The sky was more gray than blue. The weather report had called for showers with the warmer weather, but hopefully not anytime soon. Checking his watch, Jon hoped he’d arrived just as Alicia had quit working but before she started supper. Ringing her front doorbell, his gut tightened. Tonight could make the difference between peace and hostility.
Alicia came to the door, her flowered blouse and peach split skirt making the day seem brighter. She saw the parrot and frowned. The tension inside him increased.
“I was going to call you later.”
“To tell me…” he prompted.
“That I called your lawyer, Adam Hobbs. He assured me everything you’ve told me is true. I was going to accept your invitation to dinner.”
She didn’t sound happy about the decision. Jon lifted the deli bag and smiled, hoping to coax one from her. “I brought it with me.”
“I wasn’t planning on tonight.”
“You have plans?”
She stared at the buttons on his red polo shirt. “No.”
“Does Emily like picnics?”
After a quick appraisal down his navy casual slacks that registered neither approval nor disapproval, she said, “I thought we’d talk…alone.”
“We can. But if we have a mouthful of potato salad we’ll have less opportunity to be at each other’s throats.”
“Mr. Wescott…”
“And that has got to go. Jon. Try it. It’s short for Jonathan.”
She looked unsure, as if the situation were already beyond her control. Afraid she’d back out altogether, he encouraged, “C’mon. It’s easier to say than Rumpelstilt-skin.”
She made the connection right away. “I wish there was a magic word to make this all go away.”
“I know.”
She tilted her head and searched his face. He felt uncomfortable, as if she could see far too much. Maybe even into the loneliness that made him want a relationship with his daughter.
Opening the screen door, she said, “All right…Jon. Come in.”
She backed up so he didn’t have to brush by her. Her expression said one false move and she’d not only call her lawyer but the police, too.
Alicia’s living room was decorated in cool green and salmon. The ruffled curtains at the window matched the flowered slipcover on one of the chairs. The sofa was upholstered in the same green as the color in the curtains, another chair in the salmon. The occasional tables looked like antiques, but he couldn’t be sure.
Shifting the parrot from the crook of his arm to his hand, he asked, “Think Emily will like it?”
“Presents aren’t necessary.”
“Maybe not for you.” He could imagine what Alicia was thinking, that he wanted to be a type of Santa Claus to Emily to win her over. If presents would do it, he wasn’t beyond buying them. And Alicia couldn’t control what he gave his daughter.
Obviously realizing that, Alicia said, “She’s in the kitchen. You’re not going to tell her—”
“I won’t say anything. Yet.”
Alicia brushed her hair behind her ear. Adam Hobbs had not only confirmed Jon’s information as accurate, but assured her that Jonathan Wescott was a prominent member of the community and a man of good character. But having Jon in her office was one thing; having him in her living room was another. She could only hope she was doing the right thing, for her and Emily.
Alicia had also called her lawyer and faxed him a copy of Cecile’s letter. Because of the letter, along with Jon’s willingness to take a paternity test, her attorney had urged her to try to keep relations with him civil. Being civil when she was scared to the tips of her toes that she could lose her daughter was a bit difficult. Besides the fact that he made all of her nerve endings stand on end. Whenever he got close, she…tingled.
Jon set the bag on the table, then held out the parrot to Emily. “Like it?”
Her green eyes grew big. “Yeah!”
“It’s yours.”
“Really?” She checked with her mom. “Can I have it?”
Alicia saw it for the bribe it was. She also saw it as Jon’s means of reaching out to a child he thought was his daughter. “Yes, you can. Would you like to have a picnic outside? Mr. Wescott brought supper.”
“Roast beef sandwiches, potato salad, pickled eggs and chocolate éclairs.”
Emily had wrinkled up her nose at the mention of roast beef. “What’s a ay-clir?”
Alicia took the bag of popcorn and closed it with a twistie. “It’s like a doughnut with pudding inside and chocolate icing on top.” That brought a grin from the five-year-old. “But you have to eat some roast beef, too.”
“Aw, Mom.”
“What are you going to name your parrot?” Alicia asked.
“I don’t know. I’ll hafta think about it. Can I take him outside with us?”
“Sure. After you wash your hands.” Emily patted the parrot, shoved it under her arm, and was about to run through the living room when Alicia reminded, “What do you say?”
The little girl turned to Jon and tilted her chin up. “Thank you.”
The smile on his face lit up his eyes as he said, “You’re very welcome.”
Emily took off.
“Do you like iced tea? I made a pitcher this morning.” As Alicia talked, she took paper plates from a cupboard. If she kept moving, maybe Jonathan Wescott wouldn’t seem so…so…male.
“That’s fine. Can I do anything to help?”
She grabbed a stack of napkins and took two glasses and a plastic cup from the cabinet above the dishwasher. “If you bring the food, I can get the rest.”
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