Girl in the Spotlight

by Virginia McCullough

  “Lark? It’s okay. We’ll come up—”

  “No, no.” She lifted her head, facing him with tears welling in her eyes. “It’s a great idea. Reasonable and sensible.”

  “Then why are you angry?”

  She cupped her cheeks in her palms. “I’m just furious with myself for not considering the ramifications. Reaching out through Facebook with something this important? I’m a mother. I should know better. Of course we’d scare Maxine and Eric.”

  “So, you’re okay with the coach idea?”

  She nodded, smiling now. “I was so careful and systematic years ago when I contacted the adoption agency. I saw it as a long-term quest and knew it could take years to make contact after our baby’s eighteenth birthday. I made myself accept that it might never happen. But now I can’t seem to think straight.”

  He took a tentative step toward her, wanting to reach out, touch her shoulder, but he held back. “It’s okay. I understand. Whatever we do, I don’t want to upset you, that’s all.”

  “Don’t worry about me. These are difficult decisions.” She held out her hand, letting him see it tremble. “My feelings are simmering on the surface, ready to boil over. Talking about all these details—past, present and even future—skewed my thinking.”

  “Well, how about this? I’ll call Declan Rivers and explain the situation. I’ll provide our phone numbers and websites and all that, so he can start checking us out.” He grew calmer as he thought out the next steps. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll give him the name of my attorney, the one I used for my divorce and still use for some business issues. I’ll fill in the basic facts. We can let Declan Rivers contact Eric and Maxine—or at least advise us the best way to go about it.”

  “What if Declan doesn’t return your call? What then?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge, you know, later. But I think he’ll respond.”

  “Okay,” she said with a slow nod, “go ahead and make the call.”

  “One thing, though. If they take us seriously, we shouldn’t be surprised if we hear from their attorney,” Miles added. “Be prepared for a DNA test and background checks.”

  Another nod. “I’m fine with whatever they want.”

  He glanced at his watch. “I need to go. Pack for my trip and all that.”

  She stood and shooed him toward the door. “Go, go. I’ve got an interview to prepare for, anyway. First, though, I’ll research the coach. I’ll text you his phone number or email address, or whatever I can find.”

  Miles retrieved his coat from the couch. “We have a plan, huh?”

  “We do,” she said, frowning. “But in spite of the way I’m talking, be prepared. Coincidences and resemblances aside, it’s quite possible Perrie Lynn isn’t our child after all.”

  “I’m trying to stay reasonable,” he said slipping into his coat, “but if she isn’t, that only means our daughter is out there somewhere.”

  “Oh, Miles. Then you’ll contact the adoption agency, so we can both be found? If she looks for us, that is?”

  “Yes. What’s happened in these last twenty-four hours has changed everything for me.”

  Lark moved in front of him and opened the door. “Safe travels and all that.”

  He said a quick goodbye. One way or another, they’d talk again soon.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A WOMAN ANSWERED Declan Rivers’s phone and in a girlish voice identified herself as Tricia. No last name. But in a stiff, formal tone, she responded to Miles’s request to speak to the coach by informing him that Mr. Rivers was unavailable at this time. She, however, was Mr. Rivers’s assistant, and would be glad to help. “And what’s the nature of your call?” she asked.

  “It’s a personal matter,” Miles said.

  “I see,” Tricia said. “Could you be more specific?”

  “Uh, well, it concerns one of his skaters, Perrie Lynn Olson.”

  “And whom do you represent?”

  Represent? She had the wrong impression. “I’m not with a media organization, if that’s what you mean.”

  Was that a sigh he heard on the other end of the phone?

  “As I said, this is a personal matter.” Miles suggested that he could call later at a time convenient for the coach.

  “No need,” she said in a flat, almost dry tone. “How can Declan reach you? He’ll get back to you.”

  And so he had, late that night when Miles was sitting in a reading chair with his feet propped up on the hotel desk. For the better part of an hour he’d been pretending to focus on pages of the Richmond Times-Dispatch. Mostly, though, he stared at his phone and willed it to ring. He’d already responded to two texts from Lark, in which she admitted feeling restless and impatient.

  He jumped when his phone buzzed, the adrenaline rush swift and strong.

  “Declan Rivers here, returning your call,” the deep male voice said abruptly, “but I must warn you I’ve returned a few calls today already.”

  “I understand,” Miles replied with a quick laugh, although he didn’t feel all that good-humored. “I’ll keep this brief. I’m calling to discuss a matter related to Perrie Lynn Olson.”

  “Yes, yes,” Declan said brusquely, “I see that in the notes.”

  Miles ate up a couple of seconds considering his next move, but finally got to the point. “I won’t waste your time. I believe there’s a good chance I’m Perrie Lynn’s biological father. And I’m in touch with the woman who would be her birth mother.” Without pausing, Miles added, “Please understand, we have no desire to alarm Perrie Lynn or disrupt her or her parents in any way. We mean that. We only want to learn the truth.”

  “Okay, then, why do you think you’re her parents? You and quite a few other people, by the way.” Declan’s tone wasn’t exactly rude, but it fell short of friendly. “And did this sudden realization come after you saw her skate this weekend?”

  Mild sarcasm had seeped into the coach’s tone, but Miles didn’t let it divert him from briefly explaining how he became aware of Perrie Lynn. He recounted his conversations with Lark, and her earlier contact with the adoption agency and the Minnesota registry. “In other words, if our child, whoever she is, wants to find her birth parents now that she’s eighteen, the information is available.”

  “So why did you call me?”

  Miles took a deep breath. “Ms. McGee—Lark—and I agreed it was best not to approach the family. We want to be discreet, and we’d never intrude. It could all be a case of mistaken assumptions. Frankly, we’re parents, too, and social media seemed way too risky.”

  “Funny you should say that.” Declan scoffed. “Just today, Mrs. Olson has received more than a couple of dozen legitimate Facebook messages. And then there are all the random ones that regularly come around, like the person last week who claimed Perrie Lynn is an alien from the Pleiades on a mission to save humanity. You see, theoretically, it’s Perrie Lynn’s page, but Maxine—Mrs. Olson—monitors it and deletes anything that’s not legit.”

  “I understand the problems with kids and social media. And it starts so young.” Miles rubbed his forehead. He already worried about keeping Brooke safe from internet trolls and predators. He could only imagine what having a teenager newly in the public eye must be like.

  “Maxine would be happy to shut the page down,” Declan said. “Naturally, given recent press coverage of Perrie Lynn, Eric and Maxine are worried about stalkers—internet and otherwise. That’s a factor for all athletes in the spotlight.”

  “No parent should have to worry about that, Mr. Rivers. For what it’s worth, Lark and I will follow the family’s lead. Whatever they want. Under no circumstances would we do anything to harm Perrie Lynn or the Olsons. That’s the last thing on our minds.”

  As if to fortify his words, he filled in some information about Lark and her wo
rk and then his own. “I’m a professional speaker with a consulting practice. When I called earlier, I was home in Green Bay, Wisconsin, but now I’m on a consulting job in Richmond, Virginia. And by the way, we’d be happy to channel all communications through an attorney if that’s what you prefer.”

  “Are you and Ms. McGee married?”

  Miles had to quickly switch gears. He didn’t welcome the need to explain. “No, we married other people, but we’re both divorced now. Lark has a son and I have a daughter. We haven’t been in touch for eighteen years. At this point, all we want is to make ourselves easy to find if our child wants to locate us, even if it’s just to satisfy her curiosity. Believe me, we understand that physical resemblance and the birthday could be a coincidence.”

  “I see.” Declan’s tone had softened. “We immediately ruled out some of the people who sent messages. I think a few of them were attracted to the idea that their long-lost baby could have grown up to be a rising star.” He paused. “Kind of sad, really.”

  “I assume the Olsons have an attorney,” Miles said, making an effort to hide his frustration. It wasn’t rational, but he was insulted the coach put Lark and him in the same category as all the other people claiming to be Perrie Lynn’s birth parents. But that was unfair. Declan Rivers had no idea who he and Lark were. “We’ll be happy to speak with whoever represents the family. Screen us, test us, investigate. We understand the need for scrutiny.”

  “The Olsons’ attorney is involved,” Declan said. “These inquiries began coming in earlier in the year when Perrie Lynn was invited to perform with the Magic on Ice tour. Then she did well at Skate America. But the pace really picked up after yesterday’s competition.” Declan huffed, his frustration coming through the phone.

  “I can only imagine,” Miles said, trying hard to maintain his professional tone.

  “Many more people are aware of Perrie Lynn now. And we’ve had to take the problems along with the spotlight,” Declan said. “So, I’ll pass on your information and the Olsons’ attorney will get back to you.” He paused. “For, uh, some reason, Eric and Maxine are okay with...let’s just say they’re okay having the issue resolved.”

  Miles frowned, wondering exactly what that meant. But he had a hunch more questions would not be welcomed, so he provided contact information, including his attorney. Just to be thorough, he also recited their website addresses. He hoped the Olsons’ attorney would take the time to thoroughly check them out. He couldn’t stop himself from again bristling at the notion that he and Lark would ever be considered frauds.

  By the time Miles was off the phone and had checked the time, he wondered if eight thirty in the evening was a bad time to call Lark. Her son would likely be around. She probably couldn’t talk, anyway. He settled on sending a brief text. Declan returned call. Talk positive. Next steps underway.

  Two minutes later, his phone buzzed. His eagerness to hear her voice surprised him.

  “Why didn’t you just call?” she asked with a light laugh.

  “I thought your boy might be around and you couldn’t talk freely.”

  “Ah, I see. But I’m alone in my bedroom. Evan is in his room contemplating chess plays for a big match he has tomorrow. So, give me the details,” she said, excitement in her voice.

  “It turns out the Olsons have been receiving all kinds of messages in the last twenty-four hours.” He repeated what Declan had told him.

  “I suppose that’s not surprising, especially since you said it was never a secret that Perrie Lynn is adopted. Aren’t the Olsons used to this kind of attention?”

  “It’s different now. Perrie Lynn has never been the object of so much media focus before. But millions of people have been watching her during this skating season,” Miles explained. “Maybe those TV commentators didn’t realize where their casual talk would lead.”

  “Seems kind of risky to be so open about private information,” Lark added. “No wonder the Olsons are concerned. On the other hand, I know what it’s like to chase a story.”

  An image of her came to mind. A handbag slung over her shoulder and hands tucked into the pockets of her red jacket as she pursued an interview. “I’ll bet you do. And it occurred to me the Olsons have probably done their best to navigate the skating world. It has an aura of glamour. But I assured Declan over and over that we were responsible people. Anyway, their attorney will check us out.” He chuckled. “Even on our websites, we appear like such upstanding citizens and all that.”

  “I’ve got nothing to hide, except this one thing,” Lark said, lowering her voice. “In the Olsons’ shoes, I’d be calling in the troops to make sure we aren’t stalkers or unbalanced. Whatever.”

  “Declan sounded a little gruff,” Miles admitted, “and impatient with all the messages coming in just today. But, no surprise there.”

  “What’s next, then?”

  “A preliminary look at any legitimate inquiries, I gather. No telling how long that will take.”

  “Life goes on for now, huh?” she said with an ironic laugh. “As if that’s possible.”

  “It’s an hour later here in Richmond,” Miles said. “And now that I’m not waiting for Declan’s call, at least I’ll be able to sleep. I think. I’m still kind of wound up.”

  “Me, too,” Lark said. “I’ve been sitting on the edge of my chair since we spoke last night. I just wish we knew when we’d hear from the coach again.”

  Miles chose his words carefully. “I believe Declan took me seriously. And caution makes sense. In a way, it’s kind of surprising that they’re open to inquiries at all.”

  “You’re right, not to mention sensible and understanding. You’re a nicer person than I am, Miles,” she teased. “I want to wave my arms in front of their faces and demand a DNA test and all that. I want to know she’s my daughter!” She paused. “Our daughter.”

  She has to practice bringing me in. Irrationally, her possessiveness got under his skin. He tried to maintain his even tone as he said, “I know you want this resolved in the next few minutes. One way or another. The thing is, I can’t shake the feeling that this...” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “Let’s just say I’d be shocked to learn she isn’t our daughter.”

  “Keep saying that, please keep saying that,” she whispered. “I’m all over the place. Maybe I’m trying to protect myself from disappointment.”

  “Totally understandable.”

  Lark sighed. “I better go. I have a couple of calls to return. I often end up talking to west coast editors in the evening.”

  “Okay. Let me know if anyone contacts you. Declan has your phone number as well as mine.”

  “Believe me, you’ll hear me shouting way out east in Richmond.”

  “You sleep well,” he said, quickly ending the call.

  Did she really have calls to return? Maybe it was a way to get off the phone. Hellos and goodbyes had proved so clumsy between them. He couldn’t say why. True, they’d been okay after their first awkward moments at the café, but leaving her cottage earlier had been difficult. He’d again had a strong urge to kiss her cheek or wrap his arms around her, but he kept a good couple of feet between them. He’d walked to his car with the sense that something was left undone. Just now on the phone, he’d wanted to keep talking, unsure where the conversation would lead them. But he knew he’d struggle to find a graceful way to end the call. Maybe she felt the same way.

  He pulled back the covers of the hotel bed, unable to get his mind off her. The pretty girl had turned into an even more attractive, complex woman. Her variable moods got to him, along with the pain in her eyes when she’d recounted her detailed memories of giving up their baby.

  As he drifted off to sleep, he thought about how upset she’d been not to recognize how cautious the Olsons needed to be to protect their daughter. It had hurt to see her in turmoil, her
intelligent blue eyes filled with self-reproach, not to mention tears.

  Sleep well, Lark.

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING, a mug of freshly brewed coffee in hand, Miles sat at the desk in the suite and pulled up the file with a list of travel dates for January and February meetings at all three locations of Home Comforts, Inc. Far from being a household name, the company sold home-accent products to various companies who marketed them through mail-order catalogs. The rapid growth of online shopping had been the best thing that ever happened to Home Comforts.

  As for his work today, Miles had scheduled a face-to-face workshop-style meeting designed to help key players cope with the inevitable growing pains of a company that had poorly managed its own rapid expansion. The worst of it involved three top-tier managers who had poisoned employee morale with a combination of their own panic and an iron hand. Now it was his job to unravel the damage and move the staff in the direction of a collaborative workplace.

  As Miles had discovered, business owners and corporate execs rarely wanted to accept the simple fact that no disgruntled-employee story went untold. That had always been true, but in the age of texting and social media, companies couldn’t ignore complaints about rude behavior among their service reps and sales staff. They couldn’t be blind and ignore internal breakdowns in communication, either. Fortunately, these were exactly the kinds of challenges that kept his consulting practice and speaking calendar booked.

  Satisfied that he was as prepared for the day’s work as he’d ever be, he pulled up Lark’s website. Not for any particular reason. He just wanted to look at her photo and her warm, inviting expression. Whoever designed her site knew that approachability mattered. It continued to surprise him that she was even prettier than he remembered.

  Was it only last night that he’d quickly scanned her impressive list of recent publications? He took his time now. Her work had been published in every health and fitness magazine he’d ever heard of, plus a bunch he hadn’t. She also had dozens of credits in household-name women’s magazines and big-city dailies.