Carol seemed happy with the baby. And she seemed like she was getting a little better at the whole "mother" thing. As that thought presented itself, Lacey wondered if that was how it was supposed to work, learning and getting better at the mom thing as you went along. And maybe if it was something you had to learn—you could forget it, too.
Her own mother wouldn't exactly get an A+ on the mom meter. Which was, she told herself firmly, the main reason she was never going to have kids.
Jack drank the coffee, forcing it down his throat. Christ, what was it about cop-house coffee? Every department seemed to be outfitted with the one coffeemaker that could turn perfectly acceptable coffee beans into a liquid more like sludge than a beverage. Hell, this stuff, after sitting on the burner for four hours, was almost thick enough to chew.
Still, he took another drink and let the caffeine hit him hard. Maybe if he could get some sleep, he wouldn't need the artificial kick in the ass. But since every time he closed his eyes, he was assaulted by either a nightmare or the torment of Carol's tempting mouth, sleep wasn't really an option.
The last few days had dragged by. He'd dodged Carol whenever he could, but it didn't matter if he could see her or not. He heard her and her damn bells. He swore he could smell her—that hint of coconut that seemed to cling to her skin. And his brain kept reminding him how she tasted, how she felt, pressed against him. Not to mention his body screaming at him with annoying regularity to give in and take what she'd offered.
So far, his brain was still one up on his body, his bruised heart, but who the hell knew how long that'd last?
He leaned back in his .desk chair—Sheriff Thompson's desk chair, he mentally corrected—and stared out the window at North Pole Avenue. Summer tourists clogged the sidewalks and the parking slots along the curbs. Sunlight baked the town under a heavy summer hand and the blue sky didn't offer a single cloud to tone it down.
Deputy Slater was out answering a call about a home run slammed through the plate-glass window at Mrs. Claus's Bookstore and Deputy Hoover was off fishing. Not a hell of a lot to take care of in Christmas.
Small-town life puttered along, pleased with itself. Merchants did business, kids hit the beach, and cops— or ex-cops—sat and wondered what the hell they were doing there.
When the phone on his desk rang, Jack snatched at it, grateful for a distraction. "Sheriff's office."
"Jack?" the voice on the other end of the line asked. 'That you?"
His features stiffened and a block of ice formed in his gut. He knew that voice well. A blast from his past. "Yeah, Lieutenant."
"I don't believe it."
Lieutenant Hal Jacobson, LAPD. Jack's superior up until two years ago, and a friend who'd tried like hell to keep him on the force. "How'd you find me?"
"I'm a detective, remember?"
"Yeah." Jack scraped one hand across his face, leaned his elbows on the desktop, and stared blankly at the wall opposite him. "What's up?"
"You mean besides me wanting you to come back to work?"
"Not gonna happen."
"I can still get you back in. With your grade and seniority. But I won't be able to offer it much longer."
"Didn't ask you to offer at all."
"You're one stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?"
"That's been said before." He squinted at the cork-board on the far wall and idly counted the colorful pushpins tacking up notices.
"No shit."
"What do you want, Hal?"
The other man sighed and Jack could see him clearly in his mind's eye. Sprawled in his chair, his habitual navy blue tie loosened at the collar of his rumpled white shirt, his black suit jacket hanging over the back of his chair. There'd be a pot of cold coffee on the corner of his desk and an empty ashtray right beside it. Hal had quit smoking four years ago, but he hung on to the ashtray to remind him, he often said," of the "good old days."
"What I want is you back at work," Hal said tightly. "Where you belong."
"Wrong question," Jack admitted, telling himself he'd opened that door. Now he could shut it. "Why are you calling?"
"The suit."
"What?"
"The lawsuit the family brought against the city? It's done. Settled."
Jack's fist tightened around the phone receiver and his gaze locked on a dark red pushpin as if holding that gaze meant his life.
"You still there?"
"Yeah." He would always still be there. In that alley. Rain pounding on him. Gunshots echoing like thunder, rolling out around him. He would forever feel the kick of his weapon in his hand. Hear the screams of pain. Smell the scent of death.
Always.
Forever.
There.
On the other end of the line, his old friend blustered, "Dammit, Jack, this was never your fault."
"Fault doesn't matter, does it?" Jack forced the words through gritted teeth. "I walked away. They didn't."
"You should be punished for living?"
Who said he was living? Oh, he'd survived. He was still breathing. Still waking up every morning to face another day. But was he alive? Not the way he had been in the hours before that last shift had ended.
So was surviving enough?
"Fine. Be a martyr." Hal's voice was resigned, disgusted. "I've got your shit all boxed up, taking up space in the locker room. You never collected it."
"Don't want it." That life was in the past. Everything
he'd left behind in his desk, the bureau, in his locker, belonged to that life and had no part in what was left of this one.
"Too goddamn bad," Hal muttered. "I'm sending it out. If you don't tell me where to send it, I'll send it to the damn sheriff's office. That address I can get on my own."
Jack closed his eyes, rubbed them with the tips of his fingers, hoping to ease the ache that had settled there. It didn't help. "No. don't send it here." All he needed was for Ken Slater or Hoover to see a package from LAPD. That would open up questions he didn't want to hear and feed the gossip chain that kept Christmas turning. He couldn't have it sent to his mother's house, because Christ knew he didn't need that kind of grief, either.
Quickly, he gave Hal Carol's address. "I should be there another few weeks, anyway."
"Fine." Hal paused. "I'll get it out today. And Jack..."
"What?"
The other man sighed, no doubt sensing that he was talking to a brick wall. "Never mind." Then he hung up.
Jack took a breath and very carefully set the receiver back in its cradle—severing his last ties with LAPD.
The Reindeer Cafe was everything it should be.
White plastic icicles hung from the edges of the roof and an enormous evergreen wreath decorated the etched-glass front door. Red ribbon encircled the white pillars lining the wide front porch, looking like giant candy canes and lacy snowflakes dotted the surfaces of the gleaming windows.
Inside, to the left of the front door, was the lobby of
the Ho-Ho-Hotel, a quiet, cozy setup, with overstuffed sofas drawn up in front of a now empty stone hearth. Brightly colored braided rugs decorated the polished oak floor and vases of red and white carnations sat atop three of the tables.
To the right of the entrance was the Reindeer Cafe. Red vinyl booths lined the wall in front of the wall of windows and small, square wooden tables filled the rest of the room. Old-fashioned chrome and red vinyl seats lined the polished wood counter, and a glass case beside the cash register displayed the cakes and cookies the restaurant was known for.
A handful of customers were sprinkled around the room, most of them senior citizens, snapping up the "early bird" dinner specials. The aromas coming from the kitchen made Carol's mouth water and she was glad that Maggie had asked to meet here, in her family's restaurant.
Mary Alice Reilly, her daughter Peggy, and two other waitresses manned the counters and tables while two cooks worked in the kitchen. Carol lifted a hand in a wave, then headed for one of the booths. As she slid across the red vinyl,
she set the baby carrier on the table in front of her.
It only took a second or two for Mary Alice to come out from behind the counter and hurry over. A clean white dishtowel tossed over her left shoulder, she stopped beside Carol, laid one hand on her shoulder, and leaned in for a closer look at Liz.
"What a doll baby," she murmured.
"She really is," Carol said, her own gaze fixed on Liz's milky blue eyes. In just under a week, Liz had become . .. vital. Carol'd tried to hold back. Tried to keep an emotional distance. But it was just impossible.
Liz had sneaked into Carol's heart and now she was there to stay.
Which meant it was going to tear that heart in two when the county finally took Liz away and placed her in a permanent foster home. A small, stabbing ache poked at her, like a too sharp needle.
"I can't believe how much she's grown in just a week."
"Six days." Just six little days, Carol told herself and nothing in her life would ever be the same. Which made her wonder about why Maggie had wanted this meeting. Was the county going to take the baby today? Had a foster family already been found?
Her stomach fisted and suddenly the delicious aromas filling the restaurant weren't quite so pleasant. She swallowed hard against the slick, oily feeling in her gut and told herself that there was no point in worrying. Not until she'd seen Maggie. Heard what she had to say.
Oh, God.
Had they found the baby's mother?
No. Jack would have told her. Wouldn't he?
A headache burst into life behind her eyes and Carol reached up to rub her forehead.
"You don't mind if I hold her, do you?" Mary Alice said as she scooped the baby up in experienced hands.
"No, of course not."
"Oh, there's just something about a little one, isn't there?" she said as she slipped right into a dip-and-sway motion that had Liz cooing.
"She's amazing," Carol said softly.
Mary Alice tore her gaze from the baby and shifted it to Carol. She tilted her head to one side as if studying a particularly stubborn problem. "You're still not sleeping much, are you?"
Carol sighed. "Clearly, the cosmetics I use are overpriced."
"Nonsense." Mary Alice smiled down at the baby. "You look lovely. Its just that one mother can see the sleepiness in another."
Carol's heart skittered and her already unsteady stomach did a slow dip. "But I'm not her—"
"To all intents and purposes you are," the older woman said, cutting her off. "The woman who's up in the middle of the night mixing formula and changing diapers is the mommy."
Mommy.
Pleasure and fear tangled up inside her and did their best to keep her from breathing.
"You ought to let me keep her again," Mary Alice was saying. "Go home. Take a nap. Get some rest. Pick her up tomorrow."
Carol's gaze locked on the baby. If she was going to lose the baby, then she wanted every hour with her that she could get. "It's tempting, but—"
"Hi, Mom!"
Both of them turned around to watch as Maggie rushed up to them. Hair windblown, sunglasses tucked into the open collar of her plain white shirt, belted khaki slacks, and slip-on loafers, Maggie looked like a harassed professional. Which she was.
She stopped next to her mother long enough to plant a quick kiss on the older woman's cheek. "Hi, Mom" she said, then, "What a day." She dropped onto the bench seat opposite Carol. "Hi," she said, grinning. "Want anything?"
"Iced tea," Carol said.
"A woman after my own heart." Maggie looked across
the restaurant at her little sister. "Peggy. If you love me, iced tea. Large. Make it two."
"And if I don't?" Peggy called back, laughing.
"Iced tea. Large." Maggie lifted one dark red eyebrow. "Smart-ass," she whispered.
"Margaret..."
Carol grinned. She'd never had a family of her own, but she knew a mother's tone when she heard one. Obviously, so did Maggie.
"Right." She shrugged, dumped her briefcase on the seat beside her, and flipped the small brass latches. Lifting the lid of the leather case, she reached in, pulled out a manila folder, and then shut the case and laid the file on the table. "Uh, Mom," she said, looking up at the woman still cooing at the baby. "Take a walk, okay?"
"Excuse me?" Mary Alice glanced at her daughter.
Maggie winced and smiled. "I've got to talk business with Carol and—"
"Oh, of course." The older woman beamed at her daughter. "Carol, if you don't mind, I'll just take little Liz with me back to the kitchen. You just let me know when you're ready to leave—or if you want to take me up on my offer."
Carol watched them go, then slowly turned her head to look at Maggie. Her eyes were bluer than Jack's, darker, more open somehow. Her deep red hair was cut in a wedge that shifted gracefully with her every movement, then slipped back into place. Maggie's smile was friendly, but her eyes were now wary, so Carol braced herself.
"Offer?" Maggie asked.
"Your mom wants to keep Liz overnight again."
"Nothing Mom loves more than babies," Maggie said, then asked, "How're you getting along with the
baby?" Before she could answer, Peggy delivered two super-sized iced teas in frosty, thick glasses. Maggie smiled her thanks, then shifted her gaze back to Carol.
Once Peggy left, Carol stalled by unwrapping her straw and poking it into her tea. "Fine. Everything's ... fine."
"Good."
"Is there a problem?" Never ask, she told herself, a little too late to bite the words back. Never open the door to a problem. Wait until trouble kicks the door down. Don't go out to meet it. But it was too late now. Whatever was coming had already been invited.
"No."
Carol's stomach unfisted.
"Not really."
The fist tightened again.
"What's that mean?"
Maggie took a long swig of her tea, sighed as if she'd just seen heaven, then leaned back against the vinyl seat-Tipping her head to one side, she studied Carol for a long minute before saying, "A bed's opened up in the children's home."
"Oh."
The home. She remembered what the home had been like. Even as a kid, it had seemed... cold. Empty, though the halls had been crowded with kids who had nowhere else to be. No one to want them. No one to care. She'd seen the baby room. Two rows of cribs where babies of all ages slept and spent their days waiting for attention from too few workers with not enough time.
As an adult, she could look back and see that they'd all done their best. There just had never been enough hands. Or enough money. Or enough attention.
Now, when she thought of the baby room, with the
cribs lined up side by side, she thought that they'd looked like small, individual jail cells. And the tiny inmates were lost in a system that simply couldn't cope.
"You only signed on as an emergency foster parent, Carol," Maggie was saying.
"I know." Because she hadn't wanted to care. Hadn't wanted to fall in love with the baby she was now nuts about. Emergency foster situations never lasted long. She should know that better than most. There was a revolving door on the children's welfare system, and most kids got seasick from swinging in and out of helplessness with dizzying speed. But somehow, Carol'd thought she'd have more than a week.
"We can take her into the home tonight." Maggie's voice was soft, sympathetic. Her eyes shone in the last dying rays of the sun as it slanted through the windows and lay across the manila file like a sign from heaven. "In another week or two, we'll have her in with a permanent foster family."
There it was.
Little Lizardbaby would be gone. Carol wouldn't even be a blip in the tiny girl's memory, but she knew darn well she'd carry Liz in her heart forever. Oh, God. Her stomach twisted and reached up with icy fingers to give her heart a squeeze, too. Was this what a heart attack felt like?
"Or..."
Carol's gaze snapped to Maggie's. "Or?"
Maggie leaned her elbows o
n the tabletop and linked her fingers together. "I was wondering if you might be interested in being the baby's permanent foster mother."
"Me?" Carol fell back against the seat.
"Why not you?" Maggie smiled slowly, one corner of her mouth lifting.
She inhaled sharply, deeply. Her stomach settled and her thudding heartbeat eased into a steady, even rhythm. She hadn't even considered it because she hadn't wanted to care. But now that she did care, could she walk away from this chance to love and be loved?
No way.
This was a gift.
She could keep Liz.
She wouldn't have to be alone ever again.
From somewhere in the kitchen, Liz sent out a wail that sounded impressive enough for a baby twice her size. And Carol grinned as she turned from the sound to face Maggie. "I think Liz is trying to tell me something. And I vote with her. Where do I sign up?"
about just what she was letting herself in for. But tonight, she was only glad to hear him.
He moved quickly up the stairs and along the faded floral carpet runner in the hall. His steps didn't slow. He didn't pause in front of her door. Instead, he went quickly to his. As he had been for the last few days. He was trying to avoid her. Had done a damn good job of it, too. Because she'd allowed it. Allowed him to back away from those few moments of incredible connection they'd shared with a kiss that had rocked her to her toes.
She'd figured that he'd needed a little time to adjust to whatever was happening between them, so she'd steered clear of him. She'd been willing to let him lock himself up in his apartment. To reinforce the wall that he kept between himself and a world he was determined to stay apart from. A wall that would keep that kiss from ever repeating itself.
Until tonight.
Tonight, the wall came down. Well, maybe not all the way down, she admitted. But she'd certainly ram a hole through it. Because tonight, she wanted to celebrate. She didn't want to be alone. She needed someone to talk to before she burst. And since Phoebe was working at the clinic, guess who was the lucky winner?
Carol hurried across the room, Quinn hot on her heels. His nails clicked cheerfully against the wood floor and Carol did a quick, unsteady dance and dip to the music dripping from her stereo as she slid up to the door. Grabbing the old-fashioned cut-glass knob, she gave it a twist and yanked the door open in time to see Jack ducking into his own apartment.
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