Babe started to speak, but Ren added, “I want those pictures, Mother. In fact, I want your entire file on Sara, Brady and Julia. We’ll have a little bonfire tonight and toast marshmallows.”
His mother, who was staring at Brady, turned abruptly to pick her purse off the counter. “If that’s the way you feel about it. I was only trying to help.”
She left without saying goodbye, and Sara doubted Babe would be around much during the next six weeks.
“Well, that was fun,” Ren said dryly. “I always like to start my day with a little family drama.”
Sara tried not to laugh, but the relief she felt was too great. She tickled Brady under his arm, and he giggled, too, until he spotted a familiar yellow fruit. “’Nana,” he cried triumphantly.
Sara peeled the banana and sat down on one of the stools, positioning Brady on her lap. “Thanks,” she said softly.
Ren tightened the last of the screws, then turned the chair upright. “For putting this together? No problem. Having familiar stuff around will make everything a little less confusing for Brady. Don’t you think?”
Sara nodded. “Yes. But I meant thank you for defending Julia.”
Ren held out his arms to Brady, who went without hesitation. He carried him to the high chair, then helped Brady wiggle his chubby little legs through the opening. Once Ren had secured the strap around Brady’s waist, he looked at Sara. “My mother is a complex person. I’m sure she has my best interests in mind. The only problem is, we don’t always agree on what those are.”
“Is this going to cause problems between you? Maybe I shouldn’t have—”
He didn’t let her finish the thought. “I made it clear to Mother before you came in that you and Brady and Claudie are off-limits to her. She’s welcome here anytime as long as she’s prepared to treat you civilly.”
Sara didn’t say anything. She knew all about difficult mothers, and only hoped he wouldn’t have to cope with long-term repercussions after she and Brady were gone.
“Believe me, Sara, I know my mother. She’s a born politician. Give her a little time, and she’ll find a way to blame this on someone else, but I guarantee it won’t be you or Brady.” He grinned. “I think Armory’s her new target. She’s mad because he left her out of the loop.”
Sara smiled. She didn’t believe him, but his joking helped ease some of the weight on her shoulders.
“How’d you sleep?” Ren asked, walking to the counter where the coffeepot sat.
“I slept fine,” she lied. Despite an exhaustion so complete she’d expected to sink into oblivion, Sara had tossed and turned, rehashing her decision. She kept asking herself if her true reason for giving in had more to do with the attraction she felt toward Ren than her need to protect Julia’s memory.
When she looked at Ren, she found him staring at her. His facial expression remained neutral, but the look in his eyes set her heart racing.
“Coffee?” he asked.
He poured her a cup and carried it to her. Sitting on the high stool, she was just about eye level with him. He smelled of maleness and fresh air. Was it that or the aroma of the coffee that made her mouth water? She could easily reach out and touch his chest, where a few errant dark hairs curled above the neckline of his tank top.
“O’s, Mommy,” Brady hollered, breaking the spell. “O’s.”
Ren set the cup on the table and spun around. “O-what?”
Sara moved past him in search of the box of cereal she’d brought from home the night before. “Cheerios,” she explained, retrieving it from a lower cabinet.
Ren took a carton of milk from the refrigerator and was reaching for a bowl, when Sara told him, “Brady likes his cereal dry. I pile it right on the tray—one less bowl to wash. Let me find his spill-proof cup.”
“It’s in the dishwasher,” Ren said, opening the appliance door. He pulled out the cup and wiped it with a towel before handing it to Sara. “Dry cereal? Why dry cereal?”
“Tell Ren why you like your cereal dry, Brady,” she said, pouring milk into the Lion King mug.
Brady chewed a bite of banana, then said in Brady-talk, “It goes crunch-crunch on my teeth better.”
Ren’s face screwed up in concentration. “He likes crunchy peanut butter?” he asked Sara.
She laughed. “Pretty close. You’re getting better at understanding him.” She set the mug in front of Brady. “He said he likes it crunching on his teeth.”
“Oh.”
“Brady knows his teeth are very important. That’s why he drinks milk and brushes after every meal. Right Brady?”
Brady looked at Ren and gave him a toothy grin, complete with half-eaten cereal.
The swinging door opened inward, and Claudie walked hesitantly into the room. Ren did a double-take at seeing her with hair sticking up and no makeup. Sara thought Claudie looked about twelve in her baggy boxer shorts and wrinkled T-shirt.
“Can I use the pool?” she asked in a shy voice.
Ren reached for the key, which he’d placed on the top shelf of the brass baker’s rack the night before. They’d all shared pizza on the patio last night after Bo and Sara had returned from a second run to her house. Brady had headed straight for the pool—a move that had alarmed Ren despite the presence of a fence. After some searching, he’d managed to locate a padlock and key. He hadn’t returned to his cold pizza until the lock was safely on the gate, the key hanging where only adults could reach it.
“My mother fought long and hard to keep this pool from being built,” he’d told them. “In the end, my dad twisted her arm by convincing her it would be good for his heart. But she insisted on the tallest, safest fence on the market. I’ve been lax about locking the gate because I was the only one using it, but from now on, we use the lock.”
Handing the key to Claudie, he said, “There are beach towels in the cabana. You can swim, can’t you?”
She gave him a black look. “I once lived six blocks from Lake Michigan. I can swim.” She exited through the sunroom’s sliding glass door, pulling the screen closed behind her.
The morning breeze filtered into the room. Mature trees and well-groomed bushes kept the yard shady and cool. Sara moved to the window and watched her friend execute a clean dive into the water.
“I want you to know I appreciate your doing this, Sara,” Ren said.
Sara looked over her shoulder. “It was probably a mistake.”
He didn’t dispute that but said, “I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t regret it. If I can help you get your house on the market or anything else, just let me know.”
He is a good man, Sara thought. It’s not his fault I’m falling in love with him.
“I’m going to run upstairs and take a shower,” he said, swallowing a last gulp of coffee. “When I get back down, I’ll fix you and Claudie breakfast.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
He flashed a smile that made Sara’s heart stop. “I know, but I want to. This is our first morning together. I’d like to do something special. I make a great omelette. Wait’n see.” He gave her a nod, fluffed Brady’s curls on his way past, and then disappeared out the swinging door.
Sara was idly squishing Cheerios with her thumb, when Claudie returned a short while later. Wrapped in a huge yellow towel, she padded barefoot to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup. “Where’s the judge?”
“Showering, but when he returns he’s going to fix us a big, beautiful breakfast.”
Claudie’s brows shot up. “Cool.” She studied her friend. “My room is as pretty as one of those bed-and-breakfast places you see in fancy travel magazines. I slept like a princess last night, Sara. How ’bout you?”
Sara looked at her. “You know that story about the Princess and the Pea?”
Claudie nodded.
“The pea was under my mattress.”
Claudie, who seldom touched anyone other than Brady in a casual manner, walked to where Sara was sitting and placed her hand on Sara’s should
er. “Don’t keep beating yourself up about this, Sara. You’re doing the best you can. Remember? That’s what you always tell me.”
Sara swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Besides,” Claudie continued, “it’s like I told you last night. If Brady is the judge’s kid, you’ll have firsthand knowledge of how he lives so it’ll be easier for you to share custody. Most women who give up their babies never know if they’re being treated good or not.”
Sara heard something very telling in Claudie’s tone but didn’t pry. “You’re right,” she said. “Getting an ulcer over this isn’t going to help matters. Besides, I still have to deal with that damn estate lawyer. I wonder what he’ll say when I tell him I moved out and want to sell the house.”
Ren walked in at that moment. Sara had no idea a man could shower and dress so rapidly, but except for damp curls where usually there were tidy waves frozen in place by mousse, Ren looked ready for the courtroom. He moved about the kitchen with economic motions honed by practice.
“I’d offer to help, but somehow I think I’d only be in your way,” Sara told him.
“You can man the toaster, if you want to help,” he said. “Claudie, you’re in charge of juice. There should be orange and cranberry in the fridge.”
The three worked in harmony to the background chatter of Brady, who, growing restless, began spinning Cheerios across his tray like hockey pucks. A dozen or so casualties fell to the floor. Sara planned to release him from his chair as soon as she finished buttering toast, but Ren beat her to it. Ignoring the threat to his spotless gray flannel suit, he jerked the tray free, dumped it in the sink and hoisted Brady into his arms.
“You look ready for some fresh air, young man,” he said, carrying Brady to the door. He nudged the screen open with his foot and set him down outside. “Go see if there are any squirrels in the yard.”
“’Quiddels?” Brady asked brightly. With that, he shot away.
Sara saw the look on Ren’s face as the little boy raced about, enjoying his new world. It was the same expression that might have sent her to her knees last night if she hadn’t already been kneeling beside the huge tub. Her room and Brady’s were connected by a spacious blue-and-white tiled bath, and she’d been dodging Brady’s happy splashes when she’d looked up to find Ren watching the scene. His face had seemed poignantly expressive, as if he were glimpsing something painfully dear to his heart.
After the bath, Sara had dressed Brady in his summer-weight jammies and an overnight diaper. She had been thinking about which book to read him, when Ren poked his head in the doorway. She motioned him over and arbitrarily grabbed one of the books she’d brought from home.
“Would you read him a story?” she asked. “I want to check on Claudie.”
Although surprised, he’d risen to the occasion by snuggling Brady on his lap in the chintz-covered armchair and plunging into a rousing rendition of “The Three Little Pigs.” Sara had watched from the doorway. Ren’s obvious joy at Brady’s pleasure touched her deeply.
Now she felt Claudie looking at her. Embarrassed, she asked Ren, “Will he be safe outside alone?” Her tone sounded stiff and overprotective.
“I think so. I’ll call the gardener later to make sure none of the plants are poisonous,” Ren told her.
Sara shook her head. “Brady doesn’t eat plants. I meant, will he be safe from getting out or wandering away? I couldn’t let him out alone at Hulger’s house.”
“Yeah, a mountain lion might have come down and got him,” Claudie teased.
“Well, we do have a neighborhood cat that digs up the flower beds, but I don’t think he’s ever attacked anyone,” Ren said lightly. He glanced outside before returning to his egg preparations. After a minute, he said to Sara, “I overheard what you said to Claudie about your house when I came in. I’d like to suggest either Armory or I go with you when you talk to the estate lawyer. I don’t like the way the man’s been treating you. Would that be okay?”
“Are you kidding? It would be great. He intimidates the heck out of me.”
“That’s because you’ve never seen him naked,” Claudie said.
Both Sara and Ren turned to look at her. She blinked coquettishly, causing Ren to burst out laughing. “Remind me never to get on your bad side, Claudie,” he said, chuckling as he slid a steaming omelette on a plate and carried it to the table.
“Bon appétit,” he said. “Sara, you’re next.”
Sara took the plate of toast to the table, then sat down on the stool opposite Claudie. A girl could get used to this, she thought dreamily, until a sober voice in her head reminded her this arrangement was only temporary.
After serving Sara, Ren rinsed the pan and bowl and placed them on a wooden rack beside the sink, then walked to the little white box near the door to the garage. “Let’s go over this one more time,” he said, and proceeded to point out the mechanics of the alarm system. He’d explained the whole thing the night before when he’d issued Sara and Claudie house keys. “I’ve left a note on my desk for Revelda, in case you leave before she gets here. She’s terrific—you’ll like her, and she will go nuts over Brady.” He picked up a well-used leather briefcase from beside the counter and started to leave. “Well, have a good day. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Wait,” Sara said. “Aren’t you eating breakfast?”
“Already did. I’m an early riser. Sorry to run. If you need to reach me, get a message to my clerk, Rafael Justis. ’Bye.”
The door closed, and Sara cocked her head to listen for the sound of Ren’s car starting. When she was sure he was gone, she dropped her chin in her palm and sighed. “This is very strange.”
Claudie nodded sagely. “We’re not in Kansas anymore, are we?”
“Nope,” Sara said, taking another bite of the most delicious omelette she’d ever eaten. “I’m not even sure we’re still in California.”
REN’S MIND RACED as he dashed up the steps to the third floor of the courthouse. He couldn’t quite believe how things had worked out. Sara and Brady were living under his roof—and he had Babe to thank for it. The improbability of that fact made him grin.
He flashed back to his conversation with his mother prior to Sara showing up. Babe had been mortified to learn that her machinations had resulted in Sara and Brady moving in with him. “That’s preposterous!” she’d stewed. “That was never my intention.”
Ren hadn’t cut her any slack. “I’m sure it wasn’t, but they’re here, along with Sara’s friend Claudine. And as long as they are my guests, Mother, I expect you to treat them with respect. This is a complicated matter. Until we have proof that Brady is my son—”
“You just have to look at him to know, Lawrence,” Babe had interrupted. “He has the Bishop eyes.”
Ren hadn’t been able to prevent the little surge of hope that followed her words. “Blue eyes are a dime a dozen, Mother. We need biological proof, and that won’t be back for another six weeks.”
“I understand that, which is why I have not allowed myself to regard him as my grandson. But why do they have to stay here?”
“Because I want Brady to get to know me, and I want Sara to feel comfortable with my parenting skills if it turns out I’ll be sharing custody with her—which will only happen if Brady’s my son. If he isn’t, then you and I are to blame for turning Sara’s life upside down, and we’ll be lucky if she doesn’t sue us.”
As he passed through the outer office area, Ren paused at his clerk’s desk. “I know I’m late, but could I have a few moments of your time?”
An idea had blossomed during the drive to work—given the short distance, it wasn’t fully formed, but Ren hoped Rafael could help shape it. Ren had met Rafael’s wife on several occasions and he knew the couple had two small children. He figured Rafael would be the perfect resource.
As Ren hung up his suit coat and adjusted his tie, Rafael entered the room, walking to the desk. “What’s up? You seem pretty energized.”
“I am. I
had a great run this morning. Plus, I have some guests staying at my house. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Sara Carsten and her eighteen-month-old son are staying with me for a few weeks. I think Brady—that’s Sara’s little boy—might benefit from mixing with other children. How did you and Daria decide on which day-care center to use?”
Rafael, who seldom showed surprise at anything that happened within the hall of justice, was slow to answer. “Constancia is six now. She’s in first grade. Paulo’s four—he goes to a Montessori preschool. It’s a very nice place, but it doesn’t take toddlers. The kids have to be potty trained.”
“Is there any place in this area that takes babies?”
“I think Bright Stars does, but I’ll check with Daria. She researched all the local day-care providers and preschool programs for a paper she did recently. Her major is early childhood education.”
Ren fastened his robe and took the sheaf of papers Rafael handed him. “Thanks. Tell her I’d really appreciate the help.”
Ren sensed the other man’s curiosity. “If she could give me a couple of names this morning, I might try to visit them during the lunch break.”
“No problem.”
Once Ren sat down behind his raised dais, he drew on years of practice and his law school training to stay focused for the next three hours.
When his hour and a half lunch break arrived, Ren visited the first of four facilities on Daria Justis’s list: Bright Stars. According to Daria’s synopsis, the place offered something called “layered structuring” with emphasis on Montessori teaching aids. The director greeted him at the door.
“I’m so pleased you’re considering us, Judge Bishop. Won’t Mrs. Bishop be joining you?”
Ren hadn’t been expecting the question. His pulse spiked. “Not today. I’m doing the preliminary leg-work,” he said, realizing how public his and Sara’s living arrangements would become if they enrolled Brady in day care. Maybe he’d be smarter to wait until they had a formal custody arrangement.
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