Razor Sharp

by Fern Michaels

  Nancy Barnes loved her job.

  On the first day of October, Nancy was huffing and puffing as she struggled with an oversize pumpkin that she somehow managed to get into the lobby after she opened the door and turned off the alarm without dropping the pumpkin. She knew by the end of the week there would be about twenty more pumpkins around her scarecrow-and-hay arrangement, all brought in by the lawyers themselves, along with the paralegals and the secretaries.

  Cozy. A feel-good place to come to when in trouble.

  Nancy looked up to see a young woman coming through the door. Her first thought was that she looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Fragile. Scared. But there was a spark of something she couldn’t quite define. Yet.

  Nancy Barnes was a chunky young woman who wore sensible shoes. She had curly hair, unruly curly hair, and a bridge of freckles danced across her nose and rosy cheeks. She wore granny glasses and always had two or three pencils stuck behind her ears or in her hair. It was her smile that put new clients at ease, or maybe it was her first words of greeting, no one was ever quite sure. “Good morning. What can I do to help you?”

  “I’m Rachel Dawson, and I need to talk to a lawyer as soon as possible. I don’t have an appointment. I’m sorry. I just…What I did was…My husband doesn’t know I’m here. I can’t afford to be here.” The woman flapped her arms and then said, “But here I am.”

  “I’ll tell you what, walk around here to where I am, and then I’ll get us both some coffee, and you and I can talk. What that means is after you tell me your problem, I’ll decide who it is that would work best with you. We have donuts, too.”

  Rachel Dawson tried her best to smile but couldn’t bring it off. Nancy could see she was fighting back her tears.

  Settled at her desk with coffee Rachel Dawson wasn’t going to drink, she said gently, “Tell me what you’re comfortable telling me so all of us here can help you. I want you to think of this firm as your extended family. Everyone here works for the client, and it doesn’t matter which attorney is assigned to you. Do you understand that?”

  “I can’t afford to be here. My husband is going to be upset when he finds out I…”

  “Let’s not talk about payment right now. But for the record, we do quite a bit of pro bono work. I’m usually the one who makes that particular decision, so we aren’t going to worry about whether you qualify or not right now. Tell me how we can help you.”

  Rachel Dawson fooled Nancy. Before she spoke she gulped at her coffee and drained the cup. “I can’t have children. It’s me, not my husband. I had every test in the book. I’m thirty-seven. My husband is thirty-eight. We both have very good jobs, but right now I’m on a leave of absence. We were so desperate to have a child, but the wait was so long, and going outside the country didn’t work for us. A friend of a friend told us about a lawyer who arranged adoptions. We went to see him a year or so ago, and in the end what we did…what my husband did was donate his sperm to a surrogate. It was all legal. We paid the lawyer one hundred thousand dollars. I don’t know how much of that went to the surrogate. We paid all of her medical expenses. I even drove her to the doctors when she had to go. She was a student at George Washington University. We bought her clothes, food, paid her rent. She gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl. We were overjoyed. I can’t tell you how giddy we were. We went into panic mode the day we found out. We had to redo the house—you know, make room for two babies instead of one.

  “I guess I should tell you we had to borrow forty thousand dollars from our parents. Call us foolish, but we’ve been saving for a college fund even though we had no children. We hoped that we would eventually be blessed. We’re savers, Miss Barnes.”

  Nancy watched Rachel peer into her cup. She seemed surprised that it was empty. Without thinking, Nancy reached for the cup and went to the kitchen for a refill.

  “We were so happy. It was like suddenly our life was now complete. We didn’t sleep. We sat up and watched the twins sleep. I guess all new parents do that. My husband took leave, too, for a month, so I could get things working. We couldn’t afford a nanny, and our parents helped out. We literally thought we’d died and gone to heaven.”

  Rachel reached for the coffee and again drained the full cup. She set it down precisely in the spot it had been in. Nancy waited, knowing the worst was about to be revealed. She wasn’t wrong.

  “Then our world turned upside down. A letter came in the mail from a lawyer saying his client, the surrogate mother, wanted the twins back. We thought about fighting it, but we had seen cases like this played out in the media, and the birth mother always got the children. Our parents offered to mortgage their houses. We were going to cash in our retirement funds and the college fund but were advised not to do that. My husband talked to several lawyers, and they basically told us to move on and put it behind us. I went to the lawyer we used to arrange the adoption. I called and called, and he didn’t call back. I went to his office, and they wouldn’t let me see him. I thought about going to the newspaper, but the truth was, I wasn’t strong enough mentally or physically for that kind of onslaught. You’ll find out sooner or later that I had a minibreak-down. That’s what they called it, anyway.”

  Nancy looked down at the small recording machine she’d decided to use at the last second. As usual, she’d forgotten to mention it to this frail woman sitting in front of her. “Mrs. Dawson, I’m recording this conversation. I hope that’s okay. I should have told you that before I turned it on.”

  “That’s okay. Is there anything you can do for me and Tom?”

  Nancy’s mind raced. Was there? “I’m going to turn this off for a few moments. Then I’m going to get you some more coffee. I have to make a few phone calls. Will that be okay? I think I know just the person to help you.”

  “Truly? You do? Oh my God, I’ll do anything. Anything at all if you help me.”

  “Which lawyer did you go to to arrange the adoption?”

  “Baron Bell.”

  “Baron Bell?” The name shot out of Nancy’s mouth like a bullet. “Baron Bell refused to see and talk to you after…after…?”

  “Yes, Baron Bell. He seemed like such a nice man. He’s always in the papers, and he’s an advocate of everything. Everyone Tom talked to backed away when he told them it was Mr. Bell who arranged the adoption.”

  “Who was the surrogate mother?”

  “Her name was Donna Davis.”

  Nancy ran to the kitchen, refilled Rachel’s coffee cup, and then walked down the hall to an empty office and called her aunt Maddy. “I don’t know what to do with her, Maddy. Nothing like this has ever come up before. I’ll be honest, I don’t think any of our lawyers here at the firm will agree to go up against someone like Baron Bell on what could become a high-profile case like this one. Talk to me, Maddy.”

  Nancy listened. She reached for a pad and pencil and scribbled furiously. “Maddy, are you going to do what I think you’re going to do?”

  “Can you think of anyone better?”

  Nancy smiled. “Actually, I can’t. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if…Rachel could get her babies back for Christmas?”

  “It’s the time for miracles. I’ll do what I can. Keep me in the loop, honey.”

  “Will do, Maddy.”

  Back in the office, Nancy sat down and reached for a small pad. As she wrote down Lizzie Fox’s name, address, and phone number on a slip of paper, Rachel Dawson kept on talking. “I think this is some kind of baby ring. Tom says I’m out of my mind, but on my really bad days I would go to the park and just sit. I talked to a lot of nannies and young mothers. One of the mothers looked at me when I told her what had happened and told me about someone else the same thing happened to. I have her name right here in my purse. I even went to talk to the adoptive parents, and they’re in the same position Tom and I are in. They used Baron Bell, too. Their surrogate is a student at Georgetown. Is there any way, any way at all, that we could get our babies back for Christmas? We had such plans. Our fi
rst family Christmas.” Rachel burst into tears.

  “Rachel, I can’t answer that, but the person I want you to go see is just the right lawyer for you. Trust me when I tell you she could take on Baron Bell with her hands tied behind her back and blindfolded. If anyone can help you, it’s Lizzie Fox.”

  Rachel Dawson bolted upright. Her tears stopped in midflow. “She’s the lawyer that…She was…the Vigilantes’ attorney.”

  Nancy stared across the table, her gaze steady and direct. “Yes,” she said softly.

  “Oh! Oh! When should I go to see her?”

  Nancy’s phone rang. She picked it up and listened. All she said was, “Thanks, Maddy.”

  Nancy looked at Rachel. “Right now. You can walk to Lizzie’s office from here.” Nancy was out of her chair and around the desk. She put her arms around the woman’s thin shoulders. “Just tell Lizzie everything you told me. Be sure to give her the other surrogate’s name. By the way, is your surrogate still living wherever she was living before the birth of the twins?”

  “She is. I…I would park down the street hoping to get a glimpse of the twins. They never seem to leave the apartment. I guess she has a babysitter while she goes to class. I was so obsessed. I don’t know how to thank you. Will Ms. Fox work on a payment plan for us? Do you know?”

  “You’ll work something out. I wouldn’t worry about that right now. Just go and talk to her, and I wish you all the luck in the world.”

  Nancy waited until Rachel Dawson was through the door and out of sight before she walked back to her office. She called her aunt, and they talked for ten long minutes. Nancy was smiling when she hung up the phone. Then she laughed out loud. “Rachel, honey, you are in such good hands,” she murmured under her breath.

  Chapter 1

  1600 Pennyslvania Avenue. The most famous address in the world.

  Lizzie tried her best not to gawk like a starstruck tourist at the magnificent Christmas decorations as she trailed behind the Secret Service agent escorting her to President Connor’s private quarters. She was here for lunch and so much more.

  President Connor herself opened the door and literally dragged Lizzie inside with a whispered, “I’ll take it from here, Agent Goodwin.”

  As soon as the door was closed, she turned to her friend and burst out, “God, Lizzie, I am so glad to see you! I mean I’m really glad!”

  “Me, too, Madam President.” And she was glad; she and President Connor had a history. Then they wrapped their arms around each other in a bone-crushing hug, strange for two such elegant women.

  President Connor laughed. “Stop with that president stuff. In here we’re Lizzie and Marti. I need you to call me by name, Lizzie. I don’t want to forget who I really am. Can we do that?” She sounded so anxious, Lizzie nodded.

  Lizzie looked around. “Pretty fancy digs, Marti. This is my first time in the White House. I’m impressed. The Christmas decorations are beautiful.”

  “If you have the time, I’ll give you the tour after lunch. Right now I want you all to myself. I can’t thank you enough for accepting my invitation. You look so happy, Lizzie.”

  Lizzie smiled as she was shown to a deep off-white chair that would have held her and Cosmo. She watched as the president sat down across from her and then kicked off her shoes. Lizzie did the same thing, and then they giggled like two schoolgirls. “There are no words to tell you how happy I am, Marti. I wish I could say the same for you. You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

  Martine Connor forced a smile she was far from feeling. “I do have the weight of the world on my shoulders. See how bowed they are? And before you can ask, the world slowed down for some reason this week to allow me time for this luncheon.”

  “You want to talk about it, or is it all NTK? Your approval ratings are in the 70 percent area, so you must be doing something right.”

  Martine shrugged. “I had a hard time getting used to every second of my time being budgeted. Sometimes bathroom breaks are a luxury. There’s always a crisis brewing somewhere that has to be dealt with. You know me, I’m cool under fire. It’s when I get up here that I lose it.”

  Lizzie blinked. “This was what you wanted, Marti.”

  Martine brushed at the soft bangs falling over her forehead. “Yes, and if it wasn’t for you…and…your friends, I wouldn’t be here. I know that, Lizzie. It’s with me every second of every day. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? That’s why you accepted my job offer, right? You’re here to spell it out to me. Again.”

  Lizzie stared at her old friend. She gave a slight nod. “Six months. Pro bono. I walk away unless the job proves to be something beyond my expectations. I have to admit I was surprised you agreed to my terms.”

  Martine burst out laughing. “Oh, Lizzie, I wish you could have seen the expressions on all their faces when I listed your demands. I thought the lot of them would choke to death. Nine to five! Every weekend off. Pro bono. I realize one hundred sixty-eight thousand dollars is a lot of money, and yet it isn’t much money to live on here in the District, what with rent, travel back to one’s home state, taxes, everyday expenses, and the maintenance of two residences. It’s hard to raise a family and keep up two residences all for the sake of doing one’s duty. When I told them you weren’t interested in adding the White House to your resume, because yours was impressive enough without it, several of them had to be resuscitated. It’s safe to say your fame has preceded you. Actually, Lizzie, you’re a legend in your own time, and I for one am honored to be called your friend. How does your new husband feel about you taking on the job?”

  Lizzie leaned forward. “You know what, Marti? My husband is that rare breed of man who only wants to see me happy. If all it takes is his approval, he’s all for it. We take turns traveling on the weekends. You need to give him a huge slice of credit for helping get you to where you’re sitting right now.” Lizzie looked around and then lowered her voice. “Is this place bugged? Are you recording me?”

  “Lizzie!”

  The president’s outrage was so total, Lizzie relaxed. “What I was going to say was my husband numbers among his friends some of the most powerful, some of the most respected, some of the richest people in the world, and those he doesn’t know personally, he has access to via those same friends that are in his Rolodex. You should see his Rolodex, Marti. I think it’s safe to say your own cannot compare.”

  “What are you trying to tell me, Lizzie?” There was an edge to the president’s voice that did not go unnoticed by Lizzie.

  “Nothing, Marti. I was simply commenting on your question about my husband.”

  “Point taken. Oh, look, our lunch is ready. It’s one of the perks here. I hope you enjoy it.” The president nodded to the waiter to show he could leave. “I know you don’t like to eat heavy at lunch, and most days I don’t have time for lunch. We’re having sesame-crusted salmon, grilled asparagus, and a garden salad.”

  It looked delicious, but Lizzie wasn’t hungry. She lifted her glass of ice tea and clinked it against Martine’s. “Here’s to a thankful Thanksgiving and a Merry Christmas, Madam President.”

  “And the same to you, Lizzie.” The bite was still in Martine’s voice, Lizzie noticed. Well, she hadn’t invited herself here. She was the invitee. She smiled as she mashed the salmon on her plate. Martine was cutting her asparagus into tiny pieces. Lizzie couldn’t help but wonder if the president was going to eat it or was just playing with her food the same way she was.

  “Does my office have a window, Marti?”

  Marti offered up a genuine smile this time. “It was one of your requirements, so, yes, your office has a window. You did say you would be willing to negotiate the second half of the year. Is that still on the table?”

  Lizzie mashed the salmon some more. “Yes, but no promises. So, tell me now, who do I have to watch out for?”

  “Everyone, would be my guess. You’ve been Googled so much since we made the announcement I’m surprised the site did
n’t shut down. You’re the next thing to Public Enemy Number One at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. My chief of staff understands that you are to have direct access to me 24/7. Of course he went ballistic, but we’re on the same page now. Everyone is replaceable. He understands that, too.”

  “Guess you aren’t going to eat that asparagus. You must have a hundred little pieces on your plate.”

  “You always were perceptive, Lizzie. I’m listening when you’re ready to talk.”

  “My friends are very unhappy, Marti. I thought you would have gotten the message when your Secret Service agents were thrown into a Dumpster, and then their weapons and badges were sent back to you.”

  Martine started to mash at her salmon the way Lizzie had. “We’re going to have to put all this food in the disposal so the kitchen doesn’t get their knickers in a knot. I did get the message. I wasn’t amused. We had to do some fancy dancing to explain all of that.”

  “I bet you did. My friends weren’t amused, either. You have six months to keep your promise.”

  “I can’t believe you’re giving the president of this country an ultimatum! And if for some reason I can’t deliver on the promise in the allotted time, then what?” the president asked in the same frosty tone.

  Lizzie smiled. “Marti, I might be many things, but I’m not clairvoyant.”

  “What? Are you seriously warning me that the Vigilantes can penetrate the White House? Is that what you’re telling me? Are you telling me they’re smart enough to outwit the best of the best? It’s simply not possible. What are they going to do, hold a gun to my head and make me sign a pardon, and then we’re all going to disappear in a puff of smoke?” Lizzie was pleased at the look of pure horror on the president’s face.

  Lizzie continued to smile. “I said no such thing. That’s your interpretation. Although the ladies did take on the Secret Service and came out on top. And if I remember correctly, that little neighborhood White House luncheon you sponsored didn’t go over so well, either. Your guests were more impressed with their ride home compliments of the Vigilantes than they were with your luncheon, the photo op, and their souvenirs.”