Except that was bullshit, I thought as I swung with all my might. The impact of the wooden bat connecting with the solid baseball sent vibrations up my arms to my shoulders. Someone had to know something. But if they did, they weren’t telling.
Maybe I could ask Michelle again. She’d been traveling since the ball. Not sure where she’d gone this time. London, maybe. Or Italy. No, Italy had been last time. But I’d spoken to her. She said she didn’t know all the people in the Noah’s Ark display. She said her friends had recruited other friends. But I’d try her again. As far as I could tell, she seemed to know a lot of people on whatever continent she was on. At least the rich people she deemed worthy of her time.
A loud crack behind me made me turn to look. Ryan’s hit soared across the field almost to the edge of the netting. “Good one,” I said. And then I walloped the hell out of my next pitch. The baseball shot like a bullet and hit a metal sign on the fence at the far edge of the field. Even from here, I could hear the thunk as the ball dented the corner of the sign. And then after a moment or two, the sign fell to the ground with a loud creak.
“Maybe it’s time for a drink,” Ryan said.
Many drinks later, a saucy redhead approached the bar stools where we sat, her hips swaying from side to side as her ginger curls bounced on her shoulders. And that wasn’t the only part of her that bounced. “Buy me a drink? I’ll let you have a taste,” she said, licking her lips as she looked directly at me.
But she wasn’t what I wanted. Or who the hell knows, maybe she was. Maybe my Not-Sarah was a redhead. I’d never seen her without that wig or without approximately 500 yards of fabric covering that sweet spot between her legs. But somehow I didn’t think so. Sighing, I turned back to my whiskey.
“We’re good, honey,” Ryan said, and I felt rather than saw her pout as she flounced off.
“Maybe she was just a figment of my imagination,” I said after I’d finished that drink and ordered another.
“Your imagination isn’t good enough to come up with a Victorian mouse.”
“What a stupid costume scheme anyway.” It had been a nightmare after the contest ended. People had swarmed every which way. Eager to find her, I’d followed a woman in an identical dress to the entryway only to see that it wasn’t the right woman. Then I’d spotted Michelle and asked her where the mouse went, and she pointed toward the back of the house. So I chased down another woman in that golden dress only to catch up with her and find that she was a rabbit.
“It definitely didn’t deserve first place,” Ryan agreed. He was still pissed that we hadn’t even gotten honorable mention. He raised his glass and drained half his beer. He shot me a sympathetic look, and I knew what was coming.
“Don’t,” I said.
“Blake, come on. You’ve got to consider the possibility that she doesn’t want to be found.”
No way. Not a woman who could kiss me like that. Not a woman who could look at me like that. Not my Cinderella.
“She could be married.”
“No ring.”
“She could’ve taken it off.”
“No,” I growled. There was just no way she was already taken. She was supposed to be mine.
“Then why did she disappear after the contest?”
“I told you, it was chaos. No one could find anyone.”
“And yet you waited for her. For over an hour.”
Shit. Ryan was my best friend, but right now I wished that metal sign had fallen on his head. “It was really crowded.”
“And she could have looked you up afterward.”
“How? She doesn’t have my real name, either. I wore that fucking mask that whole time.
“Are you sorry you went?”
“Yes.” Because if I hadn’t gone, I wouldn’t have met her. I wouldn’t be thinking about her. I wouldn’t be wanting something I couldn’t have...
“Really?”
I sighed, looking over to see the concern in my buddy’s eyes. He was a good guy. Maybe I didn’t really want a metal sign to thunk him on the head. Just like I didn’t really wish I hadn’t met her.
“No.”
Penny
Three months after the ball
“Everything seems fine, Ms. Jenkins. The baby’s got a strong heartbeat and is on track developmentally.”
My heart started beating again, and I let out the breath I’d been holding. Not that I’d thought anything was going to be wrong, but still… In just two months I’d gone from being completely shocked about being pregnant to wanting this baby more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. My whole world now revolved around planning for the baby’s arrival.
I left the building a lot more cheerfully than I’d arrived. It had been daunting, going into the clinic by myself. Jana had come with me to my first two appointments, but as a teacher, she had difficulty getting off work in the middle of the day. So today it was just me. Well, me and Baby Z. Since I’d decided not to learn the sex of the baby ahead of time, in my thoughts I referred to him or her as “Baby Z” for Zorro.
And how I wished that Zorro could have been with me at the appointment. Not the swashbuckling one from the movies, but the baby’s father. But even if I could find him, would he believe the baby was his? We’d used a condom, but it must have broken. Would he believe me when I said he was the only man I’d slept with since my divorce? Somehow, I thought he would. The bigger question was, would he want to be the father of a child? I knew from my experiences with my stepsister, ‘family’ is often more about attitude than anything else. So the real question was, would he want Baby Z to be a part of his family? His life?
I eased myself into the driver’s seat of my car. Not that I had much of a baby bump yet, but I didn’t want to do anything to harm Baby Z. As I drove, I catalogued the things I knew about Zorro. Tall. Handsome. Strong. Funny. Playful. Teasing. Caring. Did any of that add up to being a good father? He’d talked a little about his family, and it didn’t sound like they were close. Would he even want to have a relationship with his son or daughter?
Still, I would’ve given anything for the chance to find out. Once I’d learned I was pregnant, I’d redoubled my efforts to find him. I talked to the organizers of the charity event. Reached out to Michelle, twice more. But no one knew anything about a man in black dressed like Zorro. I’d even posted on Craigslist in that column for missed connections. The responses I’d received ranged from idiotic to pornographic, but nothing from him. Rich guys like that probably didn’t even know what Craigslist was. But still, I had to try.
Outside the elementary school, I parked and waited for Jana to emerge. She’d made me promise to update her right away. She’d been such a good friend through all of this. When I saw her, I hopped out and showed her the picture of the fully formed but tiny baby growing inside of me.
“It’s a real person,” Jana said, reaching over to wipe away the tears rolling down my face. “Why are you crying? You’re growing a real person inside of you. That’s amazing!”
“I know,” I said. That was why I was crying. “These are happy tears,” I assured her. “Mostly.”
“But… you wish he were here.”
I didn’t have to say anything. She knew. I could feel it in her embrace as she hugged me, taking care not to squish my stomach.
Her sympathy—plus pregnancy hormones—made me cry harder. “I wish I were rich like the people at that ball. Then I could afford to hire a private investigator.” Jana patted me on the back as I sobbed onto her shoulder. “A PI would find him in no time.”
Blake
Four months after the ball
“What do you mean the PI couldn’t find her?” This was fucking ridiculous. The woman existed. She had to be somewhere. She hadn’t disappeared off the face of the planet—at least I didn’t think there were any cute twenty-something astronauts blasted into space recently. “You said he was the best.”
“He is,” Ryan replied. I was standing in the hallway of one of my favorite restau
rants talking on the phone. With effort, I kept my voice down. This wasn’t Ryan’s fault, and the people enjoying a nice lunch didn’t need to hear me ranting. “He found that leak in my department. I know he tried his best.”
His best apparently meant talking to dozens of people and not getting anywhere. His staff had gathered pictures of over 150 women who had attended the ball. He’d assembled dossiers on any who fit the approximate age range and physical attributes. And none of them had been the mouse. It made no sense. I felt like calling up random socialites across the city and asking if they’d ever spent an evening getting fucked by Zorro.
She couldn’t have just disappeared. I wouldn’t allow that to happen.
“I’ll talk to you later,” I said, and returned to the table where my guest had just arrived. “You look lovely, as always.”
“Thank you,” Michelle said, perching on the edge of her chair as I pushed it in.
“How was London?”
“It was Paris,” she said, treating me to a dazzling smile. Except it didn’t reach her eyes. Not-Sarah’s eyes had been surrounded by a mask yet I’d been able to tell she was being genuine when they sparkled. “Thank you so much for that weekend at the spa. Two Hollywood celebrities were there having treatments, but I’m not allowed to tell you who—not even if you beg,” she finished, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously.
Not much chance of that, Miss Priss. But hell, I shouldn’t take out my frustration on her. She wasn’t to blame. Sure, she was snooty and pretentious and all too willing to spend my money, but I’d promised an old friend to keep an eye on her and I had. It was one of very few promises I’d ever kept in my life.
We ordered, and she got a salad—of course. I had steak and lobster. If she wanted to exist on three hundred calories a day, that was her choice, but I wasn’t going to eat like a rabbit.
While we ate, she talked steadily, telling me about the fashion shows she’d been to in Paris, the parties she’d been invited to. And she managed to ‘accidentally’ reveal the identities of the celebrities she’d seen.
When it was my turn to talk—which was not always a given with her—I had just one thing on my mind. “Speaking of parties, I wanted to ask you more about that night at the charity ball.”
“Blake, that was months ago. Are you still obsessing over some silly girl you met there?”
“I’m just trying to find her.”
“Why?”
None of your fucking business, I wanted to say. But instead, I decided to wipe that superior little smile off her lips in a slightly more polite way. “She stole my Rolex, and I want to get it back.”
Michelle’s eyes widened and she gaped at me. After a moment, her shocked expression faded and her poised smile returned. “Even after knowing you for two years, I can’t always tell when you’re joking.”
Suddenly, I felt like an ass. She was a rich, pampered brat in her mid-twenties, but who was I to judge? I shouldn’t fuck with her just because I was in a bad mood. “That was a joke.”
Now she put her hand on my arm and gave a dainty little laugh. “You have such a way of saying things with a straight face. You should have been a lawyer.”
“I thought about it,” I said. “Maybe I should practice cross-examining people—starting with you. I know I asked you this before, but had you ever met the woman who wore the mouse costume in your contest entry? Or do you know who might have invited her to be a part of the group when that other woman dropped out? Please, Michelle, any information you could give me would be great”
“Of course,” she said. “You’ve been so very kind to me, Blake. You mean the world to me. I’ll always help you in any way I can, but I don’t know how she became part of our contest entry. There was a lot going on that night, and there were so many people for our display.”
She gave me a sympathetic smile but her eyes glinted with steel. “I honestly have no idea who she is.”
Penny
Nine months after the ball
Pain. Everywhere. Lights. People talking over my screams. Jana holding my hand. One more push. Just one more, they said. So I did.
More pain. Never-ending pain. More noise. And more harsh sounds coming from my throat.
But finally, relief. Then—silence.
My sense of relief was replaced by panic. Why was their silence? There had been so much noise before. I tried to form words but none came out.
And then…
A cry.
An infant’s cry.
The most beautiful sound in the world. “The baby,” I gasped, the words garbled. “Is the baby okay?”
Jana held my hand, but she squinted toward the cluster of people in the room. “It sounds healthy.” She squeezed my hand back, and I was briefly surprised that I hadn’t broken hers by now.
And then the crying got closer. I tried to sit up in my eagerness, but my body was numb. Spent. A woman in scrubs brought the bundle over to me. “Here’s your daughter.”
My daughter? I had a daughter? A baby girl?
And then she was in my arms, and I looked at her little face, all scrunched up and crying. And beautiful. “A daughter,” I said, tears dripping down my face.
“She's gorgeous” Jana whispered in awe. “She looks like you.”
That was probably true, since we were both exhausted and crying. But I didn’t want her to look like me. I wanted her to look like him. I examined her tiny little face, trying to see some trace of his warm brown eyes. His straight nose and strong jaw. But she just looked like a baby. The most gorgeous baby in the world.
“Do you know the name?” the nurse asked.
No, I never found his out, I thought, my mind swirling as I cuddled my daughter close. Then I realized that wasn’t what the nurse was asking. I was exhausted and not thinking straight, but one thought was perfectly clear. He should be here. He should be seeing his daughter for the first time. Holding her. But how could he be? I tried and tried and couldn’t find him. I hadn’t even been able to find out his name, and it wasn’t like I could put “Zorro” on the birth certificate
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” I murmured as I looked at her tiny little hand waving in the air. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find him for you.” And for me, I added in my head.
Jana seemed to sense my confused state of mind. “Penny, do you have a name for the baby?”
The small figure in my arms grew calmer, her cries winding down. Her face was already less-scrunched. She truly was beautiful.
“Zoe,” I said, the word escaping my lips before I’d consciously thought it. But it started with a ‘Z’. Somehow that felt right. Some small connection to her daddy. I kissed her on the top of the head. “I wish he could see how lovely you are,” I whispered.
I wished that more than anything. For her sake. For his sake. And for mine. But little Zoe would be okay. She’d have a good life—I’d make sure of it. She was already the most precious thing in the world to me.
I wouldn’t let her down.
Penny
Fifteen months after the ball
“You’re late, Ms. Jenkins,” Mr. Brown said.
“I’m sorry," I said, hurrying past my new boss. It was Friday, my fifth day at my new job, and he’d already yelled at me half a dozen times this week.
“A fifteen-minute break means just that—fifteen minutes.”
“I’m sorry. The lactation room is all the way in the C Building, and by the time I get there, I have to pretty much turn around and head back—”
“I didn't ask why you were late. Don’t let it happen again.”
“Yes, sir.”
I headed back to my desk with tears gathering along my lower lashes. Determined not to let them fall, I stared straight ahead, not looking at any of the others at their desks, though it was hard. Cubicles didn’t offer much privacy.
As I sank into my chair, I tried to let it go. Mr. Brown’s name matched his personality. Dull. Unexciting. Plain. And just like the color, he was unflattering toward me. It
had taken far less than a week to ascertain that he was no fan of mine.
Taking a sip from my water bottle, I assessed my situation. I’d had jerky bosses before, but that wasn’t the only reason I was blinking back tears.
The truth was, I missed Zoe. I missed her so much I could hardly breathe at times. All I had to do was to call Hazel, Jana’s grandmother, and the older woman would send me a picture of my darling little girl, but it wasn’t the same as being with her. It was only four more hours until I’d see her again, but that was too long. I wanted to cuddle her now.
There was a reason I was away from her, though—I needed the money. For about the zillionth time, I wondered what life would have been like if my father hadn’t remarried. If he hadn’t left nearly all his money to his new wife and stepdaughter. I thought I’d made my peace with that already, but now that I had a daughter of my own, I still didn’t see how he could have done that. We’d been so close when I was a child. He called me his little mouse. But everything changed once he met my stepmother.
Pulling myself together, I swiped at the phone and looked at a picture of my own little mouse. She was such a beautiful baby. I could put up with people like Mr. Brown for her sake, especially since the job itself wasn’t bad. Mostly computer work, crunching numbers in spreadsheets. Nothing too exciting, but the fact that it was at Hollister Holdings was a major plus. I’d always thought that once I completed my MBA, I’d apply here for a higher level position. Even just doing data entry was a start. Everything I’d heard about Hollister said they hired from within. Helped their own. Of course, Mr. Brown wasn’t a shining example of that, but surely other managers were better leaders than he was.
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