[Love in New York 01.0] Lost and Found

by Elle Casey

  She stops next to my desk as I sit down. I now have the perfect view of her crotch. Her skirt is so tight, I can see the V where her legs meet her pelvic area. I’m trying to block the image out of my mind right now with only limited success.

  “I heard you kicked Hilary out,” she says. Her tone is sly.

  My eyes narrow. “I thought you were friends.”

  She flips her hair over her shoulder and then props a hip up on the corner of my desk.

  I wheel my chair over to the left, acting as though I have something very important to find in my far desk drawer. The only thing I keep in there is gum, though, so I fish around for only two seconds before I’m done.

  “We were friends before, but not so much now. She was really unfair with you. I just wanted you to know you have my support.”

  I take a piece of gum out and pretend like unwrapping it is a real time-consuming event. “Thanks, Veronica, that’s very nice. Would you mind taking a few minutes to find a housekeeper for my sister?” I’m hoping this will get rid of her, but no such luck.

  “Already done.” She gives me a big smile and tucks some hair behind her ear. It’s like she knows I’ve told Hilary a hundred times how much it gets to me when women do this.

  “They’re probably already there right now,” she says.

  “Great.” I pick up a file and page through it. “Thanks.” I leave my eyes glued to the papers in front of me, hoping she’ll get the hint.

  “Do you need anything else?” she asks, swinging one leg up into the air. Is she going to bend down and run her fingers from ankle to thigh now? I feel like I’m watching a lady shaver commercial.

  “No, that’ll be all,” I mumble.

  Feeling trapped in my own office is pissing me off, but good secretaries who can keep their mouths shut about high-profile clients are hard to find. If she’s not friends with Hilary anymore, that makes her twice as valuable, so long as she can get rid of the idea that she and I will ever get together.

  “Okay, well, just call me if you need anything. I’ll be right outside your door waiting.” She hops off the desk and does a model runway walk out the door. I never noticed before how long her legs are.

  I let out a huge stream of air after she closes the door behind her. As if I didn’t have enough to deal with already; now I have to worry about beating my secretary off while also not offending her.

  My mind flicks back to that ring flying through the air and landing in the water. I’m seriously tempted to go take a piss in that fountain so I can get rid of this bad luck that keeps following me around.

  Chapter Forty

  I OPEN THE TAXICAB DOOR and reach in to pay the cabbie as Jana unhooks our niece’s carseat buckles.

  “Thanks, bro,” she says, lifting Cassie from her confines.

  I take the carseat out of the cab and let it dangle from my left hand as I pull my girls into a one-armed hug. “Don’t mention it.”

  Jana hands me a giant bag that I assume holds all of Cassie’s necessities.

  “She sure carries a lot of stuff for such a small girl.”

  Jana laughs. “Just wait until she’s a teenager.”

  That sobers me up quick. I can’t imagine what we’ll be doing if Jana’s still taking care of Cassie fifteen years from now. I send up a silent prayer to whoever’s listening that my brother will still be alive on that day.

  I guide them into the building that houses our attorney’s office. “You ready to do this?”

  “Heck no,” Jana says, blowing her bangs up off her forehead.

  “Me neither,” I mumble, nodding to the people at the security desk as we walk by.

  Two people rush over to help us with the elevator. For some reason carrying a baby makes us look handicapped. When I try to maneuver into the elevator, I realize why. I look like some kind of comedy show, bouncing back outside as first the carseat and then the bag blocks my entry.

  “Carseat first,” Jana says, holding out a hand.

  I swing it in and drop it onto the floor before walking in behind it. Several people hold up hands outside the elevator indicating they’re willing to wait for the next one. I’m sweating in nearly subzero air conditioning. How does my sister do this? I’m once again sent into a minor panic as I picture myself attempting the whole parenting thing next weekend.

  The secretary beams when she sees us coming in. “Can I help you with that?” she asks, getting up from her seat.

  “Nope, I got it,” I say, tripping over the strap of the bag the very next second.

  I catch myself just before hitting the dirt, and my attorney walks out into the lobby in time to be entertained.

  “Wow, that was graceful,” he says. Walking over to my sister, he leans in and kisses her on the cheek. “Baby sis,” he says, smiling.

  She blushes, which causes me to stop for a second and stare. My sister never blushes. Ever.

  “Robinson,” she says, “nice to see you.”

  “You’re among friends,” he says, “no need to lie.”

  She smiles and pushes his shoulder. “Shut up, I’m not lying.”

  The receptionist stares at us. My guess is that she never sees her boss acting so familiar with clients. That’s probably because Robinson only had one college roommate in his four years at Dartmouth and that was me. My little sister visited the campus frequently and Robinson came home with me nearly every holiday, making him practically family.

  “Give me that baby,” he says, taking her from Jana’s arms. Holding the baby up above him, he grins. “Hello Cassiopeia. Have you missed me?” He bounces her a little.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jana warns. Her expression is pained.

  Robinson looks at her. “I know what I’m doing.” His gaze shifts to Cassie again. “Don’t I, baby girl? Eh? Eh?” He bounces her two more times before she responds … with a mouth full of baby formula vomit that flies out in a stream right into Robinson’s face. Some of it splashes onto his suit coat.

  He closes his eyes and waits there in suspended animation.

  “Oh my god,” Jana says, half-laughing as she searches through the bag over my shoulder for something to help with.

  “Help,” Robinson says feebly.

  “Here.” Jana steps over and wipes him down with a wet napkin.

  “Do I even want to know what that is?” he asks, opening one eye and staring at her.

  “Butt wipe. Deal with it. I told you not to bounce her.”

  I hold out my hands and Cassie gets deposited unceremoniously on me.

  “Well done, baby girl,” I say, trying to maneuver her tiny hand into a high five. I give up and just kiss it ten times instead. She’s kind of hard to resist that way, little bugger. When I’m done I see something that looks suspiciously like toe jam in the creases of her palm. I frown, wondering if it’s on my lips now.

  “Come on,” Robinson says, taking a tissue from his receptionist as he walks away. “Let’s get this thing done.” He’s lost some of his earlier good humor.

  “He’s going to smell like a baby’s butt all day,” I whisper to Jana, relishing the idea.

  “Shut up,” she says, nudging me. But I can see her smile under her distress. I figure we can use all the baby barfing incidents we can get today with what we’re about to deal with.

  Robinson opens a door ahead of us and waits for us to enter before him. There’s a large conference table with a stack of files at one end of it.

  “Have a seat,” he says, moving to take the chair at the head of the table by the papers. The smell of baby powder wipes surrounds him.

  Jana sits and I hand her the baby while I deposit the bag next to their chair. I take the seat opposite them.

  “Okay, so…,” Robinson opens a file folder and pulls out some papers, “we have some forms for you to review. This is your petition for guardianship.” He puts a copy in front of Jana and one in front of me.

  “We’ll be filing this in Family Court where a hearing will be scheduled to
consider the petition.”

  “A hearing?” Jana asks.

  “Yes. You’ll be asked to give testimony as to your reasons for wanting guardianship. The judge will make a determination whether it’s in the best interests of the child to be with you instead of Jeremy.”

  “What about Jeremy?” I ask. “Does he need to be there?”

  “Not necessarily,” Robinson says, pulling out another set of papers. “This is the waiver of process form. If he signs it, that’s all we need.”

  Jana and I exchange a look.

  “You think you’ll have a problem getting him to sign?” Robinson looks first at Jana and then at me.

  “Who knows?” I say, shaking my head as I picture my brother fighting the restraints in the hospital. “I had him Baker Acted the other day.”

  Robinson sighs. “And you didn’t think to mention that?”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Will that help us or hurt us?” Jana asks. She suddenly looks uncomfortable. “It’s not that I’m trying to take advantage while Jeremy’s in bad shape or anything. I just … I just …” She can’t finish because the tears take over.

  Robinson and I practically trip over each other to console her.

  “Hey, hey,” I say, “don’t cry.”

  Girl tears have always freaked me out when they’ve come from my sister. Manipulative girlfriend tears, not so much. Hilary was a pro at conjuring the water works when necessary, but those things never fazed me much.

  Robinson holds her shoulder. “Listen, Jana, what you’re doing, you’re doing for the best interests of Cassie, and that’s exactly what the State of New York wants for the kids who reside here. A child needs consistency and security. Cassie will get that with you. She can’t get that from a guy who spends most of the day tanked out of his mind, even if he is her biological father.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to defend my brother, but then I don’t bother. Robinson’s not wrong. Jeremy’s a mess and in no position to be raising a baby. He knows that too; that’s why he’s gone all the time.

  “I’m not sure he’ll sign that paper, though,” Jana says, giving voice to my concerns.

  “I’ll make sure he signs it,” I say, my voice gruff. I’m already picturing that conversation and it’s breaking my heart. Laura would be so disappointed in all of us. Not Jana. She’s the only one innocent in all this, trying to do the right thing.

  “No strong-arming,” Robinson warns. “He needs to do it of his own free will.”

  I nod. “He will. Trust me.”

  Jana buries her face in Cassie’s blankets and cries silently.

  Robinson sighs and looks at me. “It’s on you, man.”

  “I know.” I swallow several times to keep the pain down.

  My throat is raw with the effort by the time we leave his office with forms needing Jeremy’s signature.

  Chapter Forty-One

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’S not here?” I ask the nurse at the main station in the center of the psych unit, trying to rein in my temper that wants to explode all over this hospital.

  She shrugs, no expression on her face. “He checked out. His forty-eight hours were up. There was nothing we could do.”

  “What happened to Doctor Forrester? He was supposed to recommend the patient remain for a fifteen-day hold.”

  She shrugs again. “You’ll have to talk to him. You know I can’t share that information with you when you’re not the attending physician.”

  I spin around and run my hand through my hair distractedly, pissed there isn’t a young, unmarried nurse here to charm with my smile. None of my powers of persuasion will work on this old battleaxe. She’s old enough to be my mother and she hates her job. She’s one of those people who tries to make everyone else hate being at the hospital too. Misery loves company.

  I face her once more, schooling my features to hide my anger at her. “If Forrester comes in, tell him to call me.”

  She lifts an eyebrow. “And you are…?”

  I don’t even bother to respond. She knows very well who I am. Instead, I leave, determined to track my brother down and get his ass back in here before he has time to get wasted again.

  As I get off the elevator and walk the long hall toward the front of the hospital, I’m considering where he might go, fresh out of psych-jail and into the big, bad, lonely world.

  A bar.

  He’s definitely going to a bar.

  A flash of color catches my attention and I slow as my eyes take in the sight. It’s the woman again, the sweaty one, just a few feet away from me.

  Leah. Leah Wallace.

  My eyes narrow so I can focus on her and be ready for whatever she’s going to do next. She doesn’t look wet this time. She’s carrying a different bag, too. Something a lot less homeless-woman looking than the last one. It makes her seem slightly less crazy.

  “Watch where you’re going …,” I say, pointing at her. I look at her nametag as I’m about to say her name and then stop. It doesn’t say Leah this time. It says … “Betty?”

  She makes a sound like a pig as she walks by me. “Watch yourself, Helen.”

  I freeze in my tracks. Did she just call me Helen? Is that some kind of code for something? Some urban joke I haven’t heard before? She keeps on walking like she didn’t just call me an old woman’s name. She’s four feet away before I get my brain back online.

  I turn around and say loudly at her back, “Helen?”

  “Helen Keller!” she shouts back. “The blind chick.” And then she disappears into the elevators laughing.

  I stand there kind of stunned for a few seconds. This woman is running all over Manhattan covered in water half the time, barging into people without an apology, and then has the nerve to say they’re the blind ones? Wow. Talk about issues. What a nut job. Her attitude throws me off because I’m not used to women treating me this way, like I’m some aggressive fool who can’t look where he’s going, a guy you’d want to avoid.

  It makes me wonder what she’s like in bed. Unconventional for sure. Probably hot. Wild, even. She’d make me work for it. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had to go through that kind of bullshit. She’d be a challenge for sure.

  Just the idea starts stirring things up below the belt.

  A nano-second later, I feel like punching myself in the head at my own thoughts. I must be losing my mind, thinking of going to bed with someone like her. I obviously have some excess sexual energy that needs to be gotten rid of, but the last thing I need is a woman trying to cling to me, needing a relationship. Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire. No thanks. Maybe I should look up one of those escort services.

  I’m headed past the reception desk when a voice reaches out to me.

  “Doctor Oliver! Hello!”

  I turn around and see one of the hospital volunteers waving me over. It’s Esther, the older woman I talked to before about Betty or Leah or whatever her name is. Jesus, it’s like I can’t get away from this person, even when she’s not around.

  “You just missed her,” Esther says with a smile.

  “I just missed who?”

  “The girl. The one you asked about last time.” She winks.

  Oh shit. She’s got that look that tells me she thinks she’s helping play matchmaker.

  “Thanks,” I say, “but I’m not interested in her personally. I was just curious who she was.”

  “Said her name was Betty this time. Before she said it was Leah.”

  That causes me to pause. “I noticed that.” Why would she do that? Is she hiding something? What would she be hiding?

  “She’s undercover maybe,” Esther says in a whisper.

  “Or maybe she’s just a crazy person.”

  Esther waves her hand between us, blowing my concerns off with a laugh. “Oh, don’t be silly. She’s as harmless as a mouse.”

  “May I remind you that mice eat through wires and cause fires that burn down entire apartment buildings.”
>
  “Pish posh. That girl wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

  “She should. They carry bubonic plague.”

  Esther laughs again. “Now I know you like her. Me thinks thou dost protest too much, Doctor Oliver.”

  I frown. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t even know her, how could I possibly like her? We don’t even know her real name.”

  She shrugs. “That’s the way it works sometimes. Destiny…”

  “Not this time.”

  “Oh, I don’t believe that.” Her eyes take on a distant look and she sighs, lost in a memory somewhere maybe. “Sometimes Fate just has a plan for us and all we can do is follow it…”

  “Believe what you want, but that’s not what’s happening here. Have a nice day,” I say, turning to leave the building.

  “Doctor Oliver?”

  “Yes?” I pause without turning around.

  “Do you want me to tell her you asked about her?”

  I turn around and glare at her. “Absolutely not.”

  She loses her smile. “Fine. Have a nice day, Doctor.”

  I know when I’m being scolded, but in this particular situation, I don’t care. Esther stepped over the line, and I don’t want to encourage people to do that. I already have too many demands on my time. The last thing I need is old ladies at the hospital playing the dating game with my life.

  I step out onto the sidewalk and look left and right, trying to decide which way my brother might have gone to get his first of many drinks.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  I’M AT MY DESK WHEN the call comes through.

  “James, Cartier is on the line for you.”

  I frown as I try to remember why Cartier is calling me. Did I set up an appointment and forget it? When I bought the ring I was told about various services I could take advantage of, but I don’t remember thinking I’d use any of them. Maybe it’s just a follow-up after-the-sale kind of thing.

  “What do they want?”

  “Hold on, I’ll find out.”