His Hired Baby

by Jacqueline Diamond

  “I thought you’d feel awful!” her sister exclaimed. “I mean, I’m glad, even though the pregnancy wasn’t planned. But my baby will be close in age to yours. Every time you look at him or her, you’ll be reminded of Tara. How could I possibly celebrate a holiday with that man, knowing what he’s taking away from you?”

  “She’s Tony’s daughter, too,” Kate admonished. “I’m sorry you’ve been distressed when you ought to be overjoyed.”

  “You’ll be devastated. Don’t tell me you won’t! This whole business was a bad idea, but as long as he had a wife in the picture, I understood his position. Now he ought to let you keep Tara. Honestly, how is he going to raise a baby?” Her voice quavered.

  Kate moved across the room to hug her sister. “I’m thrilled for you and Ray. I was afraid maybe you guys were having problems.”

  “Us?” Mary Beth wiped away a tear.

  “The way you’ve been acting. And he’s never here.”

  “We’re fine.” She gave Kate a shaky smile. “I’ve been worrying about your reaction.”

  “I won’t pretend giving up my daughter will be easy,” she admitted. “But I can’t blame Tony.”

  “He treats you like some sort of peasant!”

  “You’ve never met him.”

  “And I don’t plan to. Especially not on Thanksgiving. Please say you’re not having the dinner there. I can’t eat under his roof.”

  Kate hated having to make this choice. But she hadn’t actually said yes to Tony. “I promised to check out his kitchen tomorrow. Brady’s excited about swimming in the pool. But…” She inhaled deeply. “This is as much your celebration as mine. Okay. I’ll explain that we can’t accept his offer. But he’s still invited to join us.”

  “I’ll ignore him.”

  “Even if you’re both waiting in line for the potty?”

  “I’ll hold it,” her sister said.

  They tapped their foreheads together, the way they used to when they were kids. A secret signal of accord.

  “Now tell me all about this pregnancy,” Kate demanded. “When did you find out? What’s your due date?”

  “Well, I’d been feeling sick to my stomach, so a few weeks ago…”

  As her sister talked, Kate treasured their restored closeness. And tried not to worry about how to break the news to Tony tomorrow.

  TONY LAID OUT a stack of towels by the pool and took another swing through the house. He’d like to be prepared to show Kate its many advantages. Although he wasn’t sure why it mattered so much, he hoped she’d let him play host.

  He supposed his behavior might seem inconsistent. He had declined her initial invitation weeks ago. But that was before he learned Leo was coming, before the location got switched away from her sister’s home and before he’d realized that she’d become his best friend.

  He’d never shared as much with anyone as with Kate. Talking to her opened up a sensitive place deep inside, casting light into the shadows. Before this, he hadn’t even been willing to admit he had shadows.

  He’d like for them to remain friends, but the potential legal complications of bending the surrogacy agreement would be devastating. This was his daughter, perhaps the only child he’d ever have.

  What he ought to be thinking, Tony supposed, was, If only my wife hadn’t left. He really should be regretting that more. Or, on the other hand, feeling angry and betrayed, the way he had initially. Instead he felt as if losing Esther wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

  At least for once he would enjoy a home-cooked meal for Thanksgiving, instead of a coldly perfect catered meal at her parents’ house. Why was it that professional chefs, brilliant on every other occasion, somehow missed the spice that made this holiday meal special?

  Perhaps because that spice was love.

  He walked through the ground floor, trying to see it as their guests might on the holiday. In the two-story entryway bathed in sunshine from the overhead skylight, a staircase curved upwards. To the left lay the dining room, with the living room to the right. He followed the hall back into the family room with its giant TV and array of video equipment, and glanced into the state-of-the-art workout room Esther had installed to save driving to a gym.

  Impressive. But hardly vibrating with warm memories. So far, anyway.

  Tony retraced his steps, then headed through the breakfast room to the kitchen. Beyond it lay the bay-windowed sunroom. Not an item out of place, not a fingerprint on the walls.

  When he and Esther bought the house three years ago, they’d planned to entertain here. And they had, on exactly three occasions. They’d held a housewarming for friends and colleagues, a birthday bash when his wife turned thirty, and a party for her parents’ fortieth anniversary.

  That had been a formal affair, with waiters serving cocktails and the guests wearing tuxedos and designer gowns. In addition to raking in millions as a builder, Esther’s father had served on the Orange County Board of Supervisors. He’d once run for the state legislature, but lost in the primary to a more colorful rival. The disappointment had scarred the man, and perhaps inspired his daughter’s determination never to be second best at anything.

  The opening notes of a Beethoven piano piece chimed from the front entrance. Tony glanced at the kitchen counter, where he’d arranged a tray of bakery cookies. They tasted as good as homemade; he knew because he’d eaten a couple. But they didn’t make the house smell wonderful.

  He strode to the door.

  “Hi.” Kate beamed at him, blissfully unaware of a dirt smear on her cheek. Her red-and-white checked maternity top floated merrily about her, while Brady stood beside her, a patch of sand stuck to his forehead. “Sorry for the mess. We went to the beach.”

  “Without me?” he asked, half joking and half, well, envious.

  “It was a birthday party.” As she followed him inside, Tony noted that Brady carried a backpack. Great way to cart around toys. “I can’t believe how many invitations he gets. Some of his friends must have birthdays three, four times a year.”

  “Really?” the boy chirped. “Can I?”

  “Your mommy’s kidding,” Tony told him. “You went swimming already?”

  “Oh, no,” Kate said. “The ocean’s too cold.”

  “My pool’s heated.” He wasn’t sure where to suggest they start—swimming or inspecting the kitchen?

  Brady saved him the trouble by tearing up the stairs, then sat on his rear and bump-bump-bumped down again. “Whee! This is fun.”

  “Settle down,” Kate reproved. “We’re indoors, not at the park.”

  The boy lost his momentum partway to the bottom. “Can I slide on the rail? I saw that in a cartoon.”

  “Absolutely not!”

  “How about a lift instead?” Tony crouched below him. “Climb on my back.”

  “He’s heavier than he looks,” Kate warned.

  “I can handle him.” Tony used to do this with Tara. By age twelve he’d reached nearly adult size while, at six, she’d remained small. “Put your arms around my neck.”

  A weight plopped onto Tony’s back. Brady lost his balance and shouted, “Uh-oh!” Two wiry arms briefly cut off Tony’s air supply. Trying not to choke, he shifted until Brady’s grip loosened.

  This had been a lot easier twenty years ago.

  Kate merely observed with a sharp eye. She didn’t fuss, the way Tony’s mother used to when she caught him carrying Tara.

  Descending the stairs with the boy’s wiggly weight on his back proved a challenge, but once they were on solid ground, all Tony had to do was watch out for head-bumpingly low doorways. And hold steady when Brady sighted the video system in the family room and scaled down Tony as if he were riding a fireman’s pole.

  “Agile as a monkey,” Tony muttered, rubbing a spot on his hip that the boy’s shoes had grazed.

  “I had no idea he would do that.” Kate blocked her son as he scrambled toward the game system. “Young man, we are not here to play with a boob tube.”

&nb
sp; “Don’t call it that!” the boy protested.

  “Only boobs play with screens when there are other things to do,” she chided.

  On Kate’s previous visit, Tony recalled Esther whisking her upstairs to the future nursery with barely a glance at the rest of the premises. “Let me show you around,” he offered, and drew them both to the workout room.

  Kate examined a cycling machine. “Impressive. Of course, these days I can’t even touch my toes.”

  Brady hopped onto the treadmill. “Make it go!”

  “Maybe later, sport. You’re a little young.” Tony jotted a mental note to put a lock on the door once Tara started walking. Equipment like this could present a hazard. “Let’s check out the kitchen. I’ve got a treat for you.”

  “Brownies?” Kate guessed.

  “Not quite.”

  “Fudge?” Brady jumped off the treadmill.

  “Cookies. With chocolate chips,” he added. “Also some with macadamia nuts.”

  “Yeah!” The little boy zoomed past him like a heat-seeking missile.

  “Guess he’s figured out where the kitchen is.” Tony escorted Kate through the rooms.

  “This place is beautiful.” She cleared her throat. “Listen, I appreciate your offer, but since we talked…”

  He couldn’t let her finish, not when her tone implied she was about to decline. Instead, rather ungraciously, Tony broke into a lope and called to Brady, “Let me get you a plate for those cookies.”

  What a heel he was, cutting her off with such a lame pretense. But once she saw the kitchen, surely she’d change her mind.

  He found Brady munching away, one cookie in each fist. Whatever he’d eaten at the birthday party obviously hadn’t filled him up.

  “They’re good, aren’t they?” Tony ate one, too. “Fresh-baked this morning at the Cake Castle.”

  “How could you resist making them here?” A little out of breath, Kate heaved through the breakfast room. She indicated the large center island and overhead rack hung with copper pans. “This place is a caterer’s dream.”

  “Two sets of sinks, ranges and dishwashers,” Tony noted.

  “Two dishwashers?”

  “Overkill, I suppose, but handy for company.” He pointed out the built-in refrigerator, trash compactor and other gadgets too numerous to count. All gleaming and, like the rest of the place, practically unused. “Begging to be put to use,” he concluded.

  “About that,” Kate said. “I’m afraid we— Stop right there!”

  He turned to see Brady smearing chocolate handprints across the wall that connected the kitchen to the sunroom. “No big deal. That does wash off, right?”

  From her purse, she produced a pre-moistened towelette and swooped down on her son. “You’re a walking disaster,” she reproved. “You know better than this.”

  She didn’t yell, though, or freeze the boy with disapproval. She simply wiped off his hands and face, then used another towelette to remove the wall prints.

  “I promised him a swim,” she told Tony. “Otherwise I’d whisk him out of here before he finishes wrecking the place.”

  “It could use a little wrecking.” He meant that. Heck, maybe he should have saved those handprints to show Tara how to behave like a kid. Otherwise she might grow up as repressed as he had.

  Wait a minute. Where had that idea come from?

  “What’s in there?” Brady pointed toward a small cabinet door beneath the built-in window seat.

  “Storage.” Tony had forgotten about it. “Empty, I believe.”

  The boy yanked it open and peered inside. “Cool! It’s a cave!”

  Kate cast Tony an apologetic look. “He’s not usually this hyper. I hoped he would burn off his energy at the party, but all that cake and ice cream offset the running around. Plus, this house is a kid’s fantasy.”

  It was? “To me, it seems…well, austere.”

  “Seriously? It’s full of fun stuff.”

  He recalled Brady’s reaction to the video equipment and the treadmill. They were fun—but apparently their charms paled beside the allure of unused storage space.

  Tony squatted beside the window seat. Only Brady’s sneakers and jean-clad rump were visible as he tunneled beneath it. “Finding anything?”

  “No. It’s great!” The little voice echoed.

  “Could be spiderwebs.” He doubted the cleaning crew had ever swept there.

  “Spiders are more scared of us than we are of them,” Kate responded calmly.

  “You’re pretty blasé, aren’t you?”

  “Quinn and I took him camping when he was three. I admit, I worried a little about mountain lions.”

  “Mountain lions?” He resolved not to let Tara anywhere near the wilderness till she was at least…thirty.

  “Don’t forget I married a daredevil. Brady can’t help inheriting some of those genes.” She dug into her son’s discarded backpack. “How about some toys under there?”

  “My cars.” A tiny hand reached out, accepted a couple of miniature racing cars and disappeared.

  “He can entertain himself for hours,” she told Tony.

  “Let’s poke through the kitchen. I have no idea what’s in those cabinets,” he admitted.

  “If they’re as empty as the cave, you’re in trouble.” To Tony’s relief, she accompanied him across the wooden flooring without further argument. Perhaps curiosity and the top-of-the-line kitchen facilities were dissolving her reservations.

  They opened the cabinets one after another, all neatly arrayed with expensive china and crystal, pristine baking dishes, enough food processors and mixers and blenders to supply a restaurant, several high-tech coffeemakers and a cappuccino machine.

  “Dazzling,” Kate said wistfully. “Do you suppose there’s a turkey baster? No, never mind. Listen…”

  Tony knew he’d have to hear her objections at some point, but not yet. “What about decorations?”

  “My mom usually makes a centerpiece with dried corn and gourds.” She closed a cabinet with the air of a child emerging empty-handed from a toyshop. “My sister has a wreath we freshen every year. Nothing fancy.”

  “Who cares about fancy?” he said. “I’m planning a real Thanksgiving, not a set-piece from a magazine. Although this place could use some sprucing up.”

  “I appreciate your good intentions, but…” She caught his arm. “Quit fidgeting.”

  “Me?” He resisted the urge to duck from her grasp.

  She released him, and smoothed out a wrinkle on his shirtsleeve. “I’m sorry. We have to hold it at my house.”

  “Why?”

  Her mouth twisted. “I promised my sister. It’s going to be a struggle for her just to be under the same roof with you, let alone under your roof. She’s very upset about losing her niece.”

  “Losing her niece?”

  “You and I aren’t the only ones who’re related to this baby,” Kate said. “Mary Beth’s watched the baby grow just like you have. Now she’s pregnant too. The babies will be cousins, and they’ll never meet. I agreed to the surrogacy, but she had no say in the matter.”

  He’d never thought about the impact on the rest of Kate’s family of her giving up Tara. There was a grandmother in the picture, too, wasn’t there?

  Perhaps his first impulse in turning down her invitation had been correct, Tony supposed. He didn’t belong with this family for the holiday. But did he have to be rational all the time? “Let me think about this for a few minutes. Maybe I can devise a brilliant strategy to win over your sister.”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

  “But you’ll listen?” Kate shrugged.

  She hadn’t refused. “Let’s go swimming. Brady’s looking forward to it, right?”

  To his relief, she acquiesced without further argument. “He is. And I’m sure he needs to wash off a few cobwebs.”

  That gave Tony an hour or so to devise a winning plan. And he would. When it came to hosting Thanksgiving dinner, failur
e was not an option.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tony’s house didn’t merely have a pool. It had a waterfall that splashed between rocks and ferns into a curving, manmade pond suitable for swimming or cavorting, with an inset heated spa. On the far side, the view through a wrought-iron fence revealed the sun-dappled harbor far below, its waters skimmed by a flock of white sailboats.

  While Tony and Brady swam, Kate lounged poolside. Of course, Tony didn’t simply have a patio, either. The expansive deck served as a combination lounge and outdoor kitchen, with built-in grill and, to one side, a great stone fireplace. Abundant red-purple bougainvillea provided privacy from the neighbors.

  What a lovely spot to celebrate Thanksgiving. Impossible, though. Kate had to put Mary Beth’s happiness first.

  Reclining in a chaise, she watched Tony dive porpoise-like beneath the water and emerge beneath Brady. The boy flung his arms around Tony and rose into the air shrieking with glee.

  What a natural father Tony was turning out to be. Kate wished he could remain a part of their lives. But despite his presumably newfound tolerance for chocolate handprints, he hadn’t transformed into the type of person to embrace the messy and unpredictable. He lived by rules. That was why he’d chosen the law as his field, and Kate respected that part of his nature just as she’d accepted her husband’s risk-taking.

  Yawning, Brady climbed out of the pool. Tony followed and swathed the boy in a towel. Evidently the day’s activities had finally caught up, because within seconds Brady had curled up on a recliner and fallen asleep.

  After drying off, Tony sat beside Kate. “Wish I could have a boy and a girl.”

  “I’m not volunteering again!”

  He grinned. “You sure?” Then he caressed the checked top over her abdomen. Kate hoped he couldn’t tell that her breasts tightened beneath the maternity bra. “What a gorgeous sight. Every day you look more like a…”

  “Beached whale?”

  His chuckle rumbled through her. “I was going to say fertility goddess.”

  Tara was moving again. Wonder animated Tony’s face. “Does she do this a lot?”