Brought Together by Baby

by Carolyne Aarsen

“This looks lovely, Beatrice,” Charles said, holding out his hand to his daughter on one side, Eli on the other. “We usually say grace before our meal,” he explained to Eli.

  “That’s fine with me. So do the Cavanaughs.”

  That seemed an odd way to talk about his family, but Rachel didn’t have time to wonder. Her father had squeezed her hand, and she bowed her head as he began to pray.

  She heard her father talking to God, but couldn’t join in on his heartfelt prayer. Though she had been born and raised with faith, she had drifted away over the past few years. She didn’t need God, or what He supposedly offered her and she knew He certainly didn’t need her. Her parents weren’t happy with her choices, but she was thankful they kept their distance. And probably prayed over her.

  “Help yourself, Eli,” Beatrice said when Charles was done. “We don’t stand on formality here. The only rule we have is start with what’s in front of you and pass it to the right.”

  “And finish what’s on my plate, I imagine,” Eli said with a quick grin at Beatrice.

  “If you can,” Rachel muttered, grimacing at the bowl set nearest to her.

  “Don’t pay attention to the carnivore,” Beatrice said, fluttering her hands in dismissal of Rachel’s comment. “In spite of being raised with gourmet cooking, Rachel’s idea of a well-balanced diet is cake in one hand and a burger in the other. I pity the man she ends up marrying.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t have a man,” Rachel said with a warning glance at her mother as she passed on the bowl of soybeans. “Or any intention of getting one.”

  “As you said, famous last words, my dear,” Beatrice threw back, unfazed by Rachel’s pronouncement. “One day you’ll swap that impersonal condo of yours for a house with a yard like Eli’s. A nice cozy colonial.” Beatrice turned to the doctor. “I understand that you’re in the process of fixing it up?”

  “Actually, my brother Ben has been working on it. He’s the carpenter.” Eli took a small helping of what looked like corn with a pained expression that made Rachel smile in spite of herself. “He’s been nagging at me to make some decisions about the kitchen, but I’m not sure if I want to go modern or stay with the colonial theme.”

  “Rachel might be able to help you there,” Charles said, ignoring the prod of Rachel’s foot, beaming at Eli like he was already a favored son. “She’s very good at interior decorating.”

  Rachel didn’t know where that had come from. Her parents didn’t like the eclectic mix of masks, rugs and memorabilia from her many trips that graced her condo. Said it made her place look like a museum, not a home.

  “I know what I want. My biggest problem, however, seems to be finding time to make the decisions,” Eli said, glancing at Rachel as if he too understood what was going on.

  “No woman pushing you to get done?” Charles asked.

  Rachel gave her father a harder nudge.

  Which he also ignored.

  She shot her mother a warning glance to make sure she didn’t join in. But her mother was trying to coax some food into Gracie, who sat in her chair, back rigid, lips pressed together.

  “I’m not ready for a woman yet” was all Eli said.

  Rachel was thankful when the conversation moved on to traffic downtown, the changing pace of life, and a smattering of politics, and then to some of the fund-raising activities the Noble organization had been involved in.

  “There’s the annual Noble Foundation picnic coming up soon. You’ll have to make sure to attend,” Beatrice said, carefully lifting Gracie out of her high chair. “Rachel takes care of it and has it here, on the plantation.”

  “You make it sound like I do it single-handedly,” Rachel admonished her mother. “I have a large staff that does a lot of work, as well.”

  “But you don’t delegate enough. I thought hiring those two assistants to replace Anita would ease your workload, but if anything, you are even busier.”

  “They’re still so new, Mom. I can’t just hand them the files and expect them to deal with all of it.”

  “They are well trained.”

  “They need just a bit more experience.” She gave her mother another warning look. They did not need to discuss this in front of a complete stranger.

  “I love you dear, but I also know you,” Beatrice said, as if ignoring Rachel’s warning, “and you have to stop thinking you can control everything. Sometimes you have to let go and let God.”

  “I don’t want to delegate to Him, either,” Rachel muttered. “Can we change the subject?”

  Beatrice only sighed, smoothing Gracie’s hair. “Do you want to hold Gracie?” she asked.

  Rachel glanced at the toddler who lay passive in her mother’s arms. This was not a subject she was comfortable with, either. She knew she should accept, but she was scared she’d do something wrong.

  “She won’t hurt you,” Eli said quietly, as if sensing her apprehension.

  His comment hung between them.

  Then in her peripheral vision she saw Gracie twitch. The child’s arms splayed out, her legs became rigid. She gave a pathetic little wail.

  “Gracie. C’mon, girlie.” Beatrice tried to make her sit, but she wouldn’t. Or couldn’t.

  Rachel’s heart jumped in her chest at the sight of the girl’s head thrown back and her body stiff.

  “Massage her legs. It looks like a muscle spasm,” Eli said, his voice calm, in control. He squatted beside Beatrice, demonstrating.

  Beatrice did what he said, and Rachel breathed a sigh of relief as Gracie’s body slowly relaxed.

  “See? Not that bad.”

  “No. I was a bit frightened, though.” Beatrice glanced at Rachel. “You can hold her now.”

  Rachel’s pager buzzed at her waist and she couldn’t stop the twinge of relief. Reuben to her rescue.

  Chapter Two

  Rachel gave her mother an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Mom. I have to take this call. Excuse me, Dad. Eli.” Thankful for the distraction, she strode down the hallway to her father’s den to use the phone there in private.

  “Talk to me,” she said as soon as Reuben picked up.

  “LaReese Binet changed her mind again.”

  Rachel tapped her fingernail against her teeth as her mind scrambled around this new problem.

  “She said she wants to see us tonight,” Reuben continued. “In fact, you should have been there about five minutes ago, but I knew you were at your parents’ place and I held off as long as I dared.”

  “That’s okay, you weren’t interrupting much. Polenta, ume dill dressing, matchmaking and Gracie.” She shuddered slightly as she remembered the sound of her sister’s helpless cry. She admired her parents for taking this child in. She knew she couldn’t have done it.

  “Pardon me?”

  “Never mind. What is the problem now?”

  “Mrs. Binet wants to see the quarterly statements of the Barnabas Society. Wants to make sure they’re on the up-and-up.”

  “They’ll see that as an insult.” The Barnabas Society was a network of older Southern belles who had been around since after Reconstruction. Well established, well endowed, they had set up a camp for inner-city children, but never said no to extra dollars. Though not at any cost. They did have their Southern pride after all.

  “I’ve been in touch with the director. Said he’ll see what he can do.”

  “I really don’t know how good a match the donor and recipient are in this case.” Rachel tugged on her earlobe, pacing the carpet. “LaReese likes control but so does Barnabas.”

  A faint knock at the door of the study interrupted her train of thought. Frowning, she glanced up. “Yes?”

  Eli stood in the doorway, filling it with his height. “Your mother asked me to tell you that they’ll be serving cake and coffee in the gazebo.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be with you all in a couple of minutes.” She gave him a tight smile, feeling suddenly awkward. They hadn’t started off on the right foot and that scene with
Gracie hadn’t helped.

  But he turned on his heel and strode away before she had a chance. It shouldn’t have bothered her, but she had a vague sense of discomfort.

  She turned her attention back to Reuben, wondering why she cared what Gracie’s attractive pediatrician thought of her. “Tell Mrs. Binet that I’ll be by in…” She glanced quickly at the grandfather clock in the corner of her father’s study. “About forty-five minutes.”

  “I hate to pressure you, Rachel, but could you make it sooner?”

  “That is sooner. My goodness, Reuben, she lives right on the edge of Winchester Park. I’ll be lucky to get there that soon by the time I’ve parked and walked up to her condo,” Rachel said. “I just have to say goodbye to my parents. And then I’ll be on the road.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll probably be there when you arrive.”

  Rachel pressed the button to end the call, biting her lip. Her parents wouldn’t be happy, but there was nothing she could do about it. LaReese Binet was too important to the Foundation. She was a regular contributor and a part of Rachel’s network whenever she needed to pad out a guest list for celebrity events.

  LaReese had come into a great deal of money when her husband died and had already been approached by every possible organization that could find her number and pester her. If Rachel did not handle this woman exactly right, LaReese could easily decamp and end up giving her money to the smoothest-talking charlatan that came down the pike.

  And there were enough of them. It made Rachel’s blood boil every time she heard of organizations that seemed legitimate but ended up taking up to eighty percent of their client’s money in so-called “administration fees.”

  Her parents were already sitting in the gazebo, tall cups of iced tea on the wicker and glass table in front of them, when Rachel rejoined them. Gracie was playing on a large blanket at their feet, looking content and perfectly normal. She smiled up at Rachel, her light brown eyes sparkling in the early evening light. She was adorable—that much Rachel had to concede.

  “Excuse me, Mom, Dad, Dr. Cavanaugh.” Her eyes grazed Eli, who was lounging in his wicker chair, swirling the ice cubes in his glass, looking too much at home. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to excuse myself. Reuben just called. We have an emergency with one of our clients.”

  “Oh, honey, why don’t you let him take care of it?” Beatrice turned to her husband. “Charles, talk to her.”

  Charles simply shrugged and smiled up at his daughter. “I wish you could stay, dear. We don’t get to see you very often. Gracie hardly knows you.”

  “Besides, I have chocolate cake that Francine made just for you,” Beatrice added, her voice taking on a petulant tone. “You know your father and I don’t eat that kind of thing.”

  “I’m really sorry, Mom, and I’d love to have some cake but—”

  “I’ll pack some up for you.” Beatrice slipped out of her chair, waving at the men to stay in their seats. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

  Rachel surreptitiously eased the cuff of her shirt up to catch a glimpse of her watch. She had given herself enough time to say goodbye, but at this rate she would have to risk a speeding ticket to get to LaReese’s place on time. As she shrugged her shirt into place, she caught Eli watching her, a half smile tugging on his lips. She held his gaze as if challenging his humor, but he didn’t even blink, or look away. Rachel wasn’t used to that. Most men were intimidated by her. And she liked to keep it that way.

  “I heard that you’ve been talking to LaReese Binet,” her father was saying.

  Rachel pulled her attention back to her father, taken aback by his words. Had she spoken LaReese’s name aloud?

  “Oh, don’t get all confidential on me,” Charles said with a huge laugh. “Phillip Thewlis told me at the fifteenth hole at the new golf course.” He frowned. “Or maybe it was the fourteenth. I remember he was working his way out of the sand trap and I believe that’s on the fifteenth—no, wait…”

  Don’t tap your foot. Don’t fidget.

  Charles snapped his fingers. “What am I thinking of—it was the twelfth hole.” He shook his head as if surprised at his own foolishness. “Phillip heard from LaReese’s beloved nephew that she was eager to redeem herself by giving away a bit of the money she inherited when her husband died.”

  Rachel would hardly call 2.3 million dollars “a bit” of money. That’s why the personal hand holding. LaReese had been making noises about putting her money into other places, and right now the Noble Foundation needed dollars if they were going to be able to fulfill all the requests they had earmarked for funding.

  “Can’t buy redemption, you know,” Charles said sadly.

  “I would like to tell her that. God’s love and sacrifice are the greatest free gifts known, or unknown in many cases, to man.”

  Impatience with her father’s sermonizing flashed through Rachel, and right behind it, shame. Her father was sincere in his faith. That she didn’t share it wasn’t his fault. In fact, there was the occasional moment when she wished she shared his trust in God.

  She glanced at Eli, wondering if her father’s easy mention of God created discomfort in him as well.

  He was looking down at his hands, his expression serious as he rubbed the fingers of one hand over the back of the other, again and again. It was then she noticed the long jagged scar that ran from the knuckle of his pinky to the base of his thumb. It was white and puckered, as if it had been poorly stitched. She wondered if he’d gotten it riding his motorcycle.

  At that moment he looked up at her, giving her a languid look that she was sure most women would find a challenge. She just found it annoying.

  “Here’s your cake, dear.” Beatrice held out a large foam container.

  “This is half of it,” Rachel exclaimed, weighing it in her hand.

  “Your father and I won’t eat it—you may as well take it home.”

  “Looks like chocolate cake is on the menu for my next few meals.”

  “Honey, no.” Beatrice frowned and was about to take it away from her.

  “No, you don’t.” Rachel winked at her mother as she pulled the container out of reach. “Don’t worry. I’m just kidding. I’ll have a piece tonight and take the rest to work. I’m sure Reuben and Lorna will be fighting over it.”

  “Just make sure you do that,” Beatrice warned. “Now give me a kiss and you better get going.”

  Rachel gave her mother a quick hug and a kiss, then bent over to do the same with Charles and Gracie.

  Before she left, Rachel risked a glance at Eli. Her cheeks warmed when his eyes snagged hers. He was fifty feet away, but even across that distance his gaze felt as real as a touch.

  As she walked to her car she shook the feeling off. Basic chemistry. That was all. He was good looking; they were both single.

  Only, she wasn’t looking. She thought she’d made that clear to her parents when she moved back here. Guess it was time for the classic mother-daughter chat. In reverse.

  Rachel stifled a yawn as she opened the file of the next item on the agenda. The meeting last night with LaReese Binet had taken too long and yielded too little.

  “And how are we sitting on the dream home program for the children’s hospital?” she asked Lorna as she glanced through the file. The Noble Foundation took care of some of the hospital’s fund-raising activities, and next to the annual celebrity dinner and ball, this was their premier fund-raiser.

  “I’ve got the mock-ups done on the brochures.” Lorna Kirkpatrick laid the papers on the low cherry-wood table between them. “The construction company was concerned about the placement of the name and logo, so I modified it. I hope it’s what you want.”

  Rachel glanced over the brochure, frowning as she leaned back in the leather couch. “This blue is too flat.” Rachel circled the block of color behind the lettering, “And I’d like this yellow intensified. I’ll call them and let them know.”

  “Why don’t you let me take care of that?” Lorna said.
>
  “Thanks, Lorna, but I know exactly what I want to see.” Lorna nodded, but Rachel could see she wasn’t happy with the decision.

  “Anything else you want me to do for now?” Lorna asked.

  “You can see how Zoe and Hamilton are doing with the fund-raising for Nagy’s golf tournament. See if they need some help.”

  Rachel laid her the papers with the changes on them on her desk and turned to Reuben as Lorna left the office. He didn’t look as if he had spent most of last night over endless cups of coffee convincing a finicky, elderly lady to wait with her donation while they did some background work on her charity of the day. “I imagine it’s a bit early to expect anything from you, Reuben.”

  “Au contraire.” Reuben bent over and pulled a sheaf of papers out of his leather briefcase. “This is rough for now, but I printed this off their Web site…” He handed them to her. “I did some phoning around and got this from a source.” More papers. “And I had a personal chat with the head of the organization just before the meeting.”

  Where did he get his energy? Rachel got tired just thinking about all he had accomplished after their meeting with LaReese.

  “This is great, Reuben. Our next step is to check their charitable donation status and, if we can, get a copy of their mission statement and do some deeper background work on them.”

  “Consider it done.” Reuben flashed a smile. “And while I’m at it, I thought I would check out a couple of other possible places, just to see what might interest her. Lorna has been looking, as well.”

  Rachel frowned at him. “If LaReese gives her money to the Foundation, we have more than enough places that the money can go. I would like us to work with what we have. We’ll connect again as necessary.”

  As Rachel pushed herself up from the couch, taking a moment to button up her suit jacket, Lorna buzzed her. Her mother was on the line.

  “Thanks again, Reuben,” Rachel said before she picked up the handset. “For someone who has come on board only recently, you have done exceptional work.”

  He gave her a nod, then turned and strode out of the office.