Reunited: A Billionaire Secret Baby Romance (Lost Love Book 2)

by Marcella Swann

  “Green! It’s a green square! Yes!” Jenna, the little girl seated across from me, apparently was excited about every last color and shape that came up. Fifteen minutes couldn’t end quickly enough, and when Ms. Sellers called out that it was time to change again, I decided to bail myself out--saying I needed to move on to see more classes.

  “Before we take Mr. Clawson to the next class, I would like a nice, big thank-you from all of you in Ms. Sellers’ room,” Ms. Normand said, and started explaining that I had come by to give the school money so that they could afford new programs.

  “Like a class pet?” I bit my lip to keep from laughing at that question; it came from an adorable little girl, her hair done in braided pigtails, her hands a little stained with paints she’d been working with.

  “That is entirely possible, Tanya,” Ms. Normand said.

  “We’ve been having a discussion in the class about whether to get a class pet, and what kind to get,” Ms. Sellers explained to me.

  “Well, what kind of pets are you considering?” I looked around the room.

  “My mother says she agrees with Ms. Sellers that a hamster is the best idea,” the girl named Tanya said.

  “Hamsters are nice,” I said. Tanya made a face.

  “They can bite you though,” she pointed out. “I think we should get a fish!” I grinned at the little girl.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” I said.

  “Do you have a fish?”

  “Tanya, I think it’s probably a good idea not to spend too much time asking Mr. Clawson about pets,” Ms. Sellers said.

  “But I want to know! Do you have a fish? What kind?”

  “I don’t have any fish, actually,” I replied. “I don’t have enough time to properly care for them.”

  “But Ms. Normand said you’re a rich guy,” Tanya pointed out. “So you should have the most time of anybody.” I had to chuckle at that a bit.

  “I can see where you’d think that,” I said. “But being rich means that you have to work extra hard.” Tanya shook her head.

  “That’s wrong,” she said. “My Mama works really hard, and she’s not rich.”

  “Well, not everything you work hard at can make you rich,” I pointed out.

  “Tanya, why don’t you go back to painting and let Mr. Clawson enjoy his visit?” I waved off the teacher.

  “It’s fine,” I told her. “Tanya has valid questions.” I liked the little girl more than I would have thought possible.

  “How did you get to be rich?” Ms. Sellers started marshalling the other kids back to their work, but I sat down near Tanya.

  “My uncle had a really big company, and when he died he gave me the company.” Tanya frowned.

  “So how hard do you really work?” I had to admit it was a pretty pointed question--and one that I didn’t think any adult would ever ask me.

  “To be totally honest, not that hard,” I said.

  “So you didn’t get rich from working hard, so you have time for a pet,” Tanya pointed out, bringing us back to the topic at hand.

  “I guess I do,” I admitted. I stayed for a little while longer, watching Tanya paint while she told me about her Mama and her grandma, who apparently did something with flowers that Tanya thought was really impressive.

  “I think we need to finish up the tour,” Kara told me, giving me a nudge to move on, and I let myself be guided out of the room and into an assembly the school apparently was having for their fifth grade class.

  Eventually it was time to go. “This went a lot more smoothly than I thought it would,” I told Kara as we said goodbye to Ms. Normand and promised to come back to check on how the money was being put to use. But as soon as we stepped out of the school, I saw them: flashing lights, microphones. Not a ton of people, but about half a dozen of the local reporters.

  “Mr. Clawson, how did you choose J.D. MacCallister to donate to?”

  “Mr. Clawson, how much money are you giving to the school?” I wanted to groan, but I knew better. It would be over faster if I just answered a few questions and gave the journalists their scoop for the midday newscasts.

  “I decided several months ago that I would be giving donations to several local public schools,” I explained, as Kara stood next to me, ready to call everything off as soon as I was ready. “I’m doing this because I really want to give back to the community in some way--I’ve been so blessed with my inheritance. And I chose the public schools in the greater Houston metro area because my mother was a teacher while she was alive, and insisted that I be educated in public schools. It gave me a lot of respect for what these men and women do to enrich the lives of our kids.”

  “Mr. Clawson, will you be giving other endowments to local schools?” I nodded.

  “I haven’t chosen the next school to donate to yet, but I plan to make our schools in Houston as great as they deserve to be--as much as I can,” I said. My headache was coming back, and I thought about the kids I’d met in the school. I’d spoken to some of the fifth graders, but really the one that had made an impression on me was Tanya. There was just something about her--probably nothing more than her willingness to speak up and interrogate me.

  “What is the next step going to be in your charitable work?” I looked at Kara. I knew the answer she would want me to give, but I was starting to feel bored by the whole situation. I’d wanted to just drop off a check and be done with it--but at least I’d had the fun conversation with the little girl, got to see what the school was like.

  “Actually, I think I’m going to up the ante on my current donation,” I said. Kara shot me a look. “I am going to rent out Wet’n’Wild Splashtown for all the kids--whose parents will let them--to enjoy a day of fun.” Kara gave me a more concerned look, but I was not about to waver from my idea.

  “That’s an amazing surprise for the kids, Mr. Clawson,” one of the reporters said.

  “I hope that all the parents will be okay with the trip,” I said. “I want the kids to have a day where they can just be kids--and enjoy the last of the hot weather before things start to get unpredictable heading into fall.”

  “When will the kids be going?”

  “That’ll be for the school to decide, and I’ll work with them, to make sure that food and drinks, and any kind of swimwear or whatever else the kids need is provided for, outside of the money I just donated. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get on with my day.” I heard a cheer coming from the school and grinned to myself as Kara ushered me back to the car.

  “You have lost your mind, Bobby,” Kara said once we were alone in the car together.

  “But it’ll be so great to see them having a good time,” I countered. “Besides, I can afford it.” At least it was a better idea than buying an IHOP.

  Chapter 4

  “Sienna, doesn’t Tanya go to J.D. MacCallister?” I looked up from the charts I was working on at the sound of the question from Marie, one of the nursing managers.

  “Yeah, she does. Why?” Marie pointed to the TV in the lounge, and I saw the name of my daughter’s school on the TV, as some reporter panned over the area.

  “...the news of the donation comes at a time when Houston’s schools are struggling for financing, making the billionaire donor a big hero; but that’s not all that the kids get today,” a reporter said as Marie turned up the volume on the commentary. I watched in surprise as my daughter’s teacher, Ms. Sellers, appeared on the screen.

  “We were surprised that he chose our classroom to visit,” Ms. Sellers said.

  “Was Mr. Clawson a good guest?”

  “Oh absolutely,” Ms. Sellers replied. “He spoke with a few of the kids, but especially our lovely Tanya Ross.” I stared at the screen as my daughter appeared on it.

  “You spoke with Mr. Clawson a lot, didn’t you Tanya?” My daughter nodded.

  “I did! He said he didn’t have time for pets, but actually he has plenty of time,” Tanya observed, and I couldn’t help chuckling at my daughter’s frankness. />
  “Did you hear that he’s going to be sponsoring a trip for the whole school to go to Wet’n’Wild Splashland?” Tanya nodded and beamed.

  “I hope my Mama can come too!” she said, maybe being a little loud considering the microphone wasn’t far from her face. They asked my little girl a few more questions, and then went to the principal of the school.

  “It really is quite a stunning day for us here,” Ms. Normand said, and I could see she was still shocked by the donation. “We will be able to do so much for the students--and the teachers, as well--with this kind of money added to the budget. We’ve already called a meeting of the parent-teacher council and SAC committee to discuss some projects that we’ve been putting off until we could get the funding for them, and really...even after those are done, we’ll have plenty to go around. It’s kind of miraculous.”

  I watched until the end of the report, and then got back to work, burying myself in the case folders until I’d managed to get all the charts updated. By then, thank god, it was time for me to get home, and I prayed that the car would make it all the way; luckily my own mother would have gone to pick Tanya up at school as she normally did. I took the quickest route back to the apartment, and with maybe a little luck on my side, the lights on the control panel were only just starting to flicker on and off at me by the time I pulled into the parking lot for my building. I got the car into my assigned spot, and climbed out, feeling every hour of my shift in my bones. I cracked my neck and shook out some of the tension out of my shoulders and arms, and walked as quickly as I could up to the front of the building. We’d gotten a ground floor apartment, which had its disadvantages--I would swear that our upstairs neighbors wore nothing but tap shoes--but it was easier on my mom’s knees, and it was a larger space than some of the upstairs models we’d looked at.

  Mom, Tanya and I had moved into the apartment after struggling to keep things together on the house that Mom and my father had bought. Between my student loans and the mortgage, it just hadn’t been an option, and I had had to work hard to get over my bitterness at my father over the years. I loved the man, but he’d kind of screwed us over; while I couldn’t lay the blame for his accident while on a long-haul trip on his shoulders, a good chunk of his insurance had gone towards paying off his gambling debts, and since he’d been mining his pension to try and cover it up, there wasn’t much of that left over after he died, either. It was enough, along with Mom’s check from the florist shop, to cover her half of the rent and bills for the apartment, but it hadn’t been enough for where we’d been living.

  As soon as I was through the door, Tanya came barreling out of the kitchen where she was probably playing while Mom watched her, calling out “Mama, Mama, Mama!”

  “Hello, my sweet pea,” I said, ignoring the stiffness in my back and shoulders to bend over and scoop my little girl up, to hug her and hold her tight.

  “Did you see? I was on TV!” Tanya giggled, realizing she’d made a rhyme, and kissed my cheek sloppily. “See, TV,” she said, giggling again.

  “I did see,” I told her. I carried her over to the beat-up old couch in the living room and sat down with her on my lap. “Were you nervous?” Tanya shook her head.

  “Not-uh, not me!” She informed me. “It was so much fun, and Ms. Normand gave me M&Ms when the reporters left.”

  “Sounds like you had a big day,” I pointed out, and Tanya proceeded to gush about it: Ms. Sellers had loved her painting, and she’d met the rich man donating to the school. She told me about their conversation and I wondered just how the wealthy man donating to the poor school had taken my daughter’s frank and blunt commentary on the fact that since he’d inherited his wealth, instead of having to work for it, he must have plenty of time for pets.

  “And then at lunch we had nachos, and Seara traded me my carrot sticks for her butterscotch pudding,” Tanya continued. “And at recess, I got the most jumps on the rope while Becca Thomas and Becca Greeley were holding it.” I nodded along, knowing that it was important to listen to the details of her day, loving the moment when I didn’t have to worry about patients, or the bills that needed paying, or the car needing to get fixed, or anything else--all I had to do was listen to what my little girl had done all day and enjoy how excited she was about all of it.

  “Why don’t we go back into the kitchen and I’ll see if Grandma needs any help with dinner?” I knew Mom would probably be up half the night doing make-up orders for the florist shop she worked at; she was good at what she did, and had worked the job almost my entire life, but she could never commit full-time hours to it, and since I had to make sure that there was always someone to watch Tanya, it was just as well.

  Tanya scrambled off my lap and we went into the kitchen together. Mom had bunches of flowers in a couple of coolers to keep them fresh, but she was occupied with the stove, where she was working on dinner. “Can I do anything to help, Mom?”

  “If you want to get to work on some cornbread, I wouldn’t say no,” Mom told me, turning halfway to look in my direction with a smile. She was making chilli for dinner; beef had been on sale at the store about a week earlier, and we’d agreed to get some extra then to make sure we had decent meals down the line. Mom had just started it on simmering, and the smell of spices, meat, tomatoes, chilis and a little beer--her special secret ingredient--filled the kitchen. Mom put the lid on the pot and set her wooden spoon aside.

  I got the ingredients together for the cornbread while Tanya went back to coloring something from her homework, and Mom took advantage of simmering the chilli to work on some flowers that would go out first thing in the morning--stuff that the florist shop she worked at hadn’t had time to finish before they closed for the day.

  “How was your day, Sienna?” I glanced at Tanya, and as I gathered up the stuff to make the “loaded” version of cornbread we all liked best, I thought about how to edit things so as to not disturb my child.

  “It was pretty good,” I said, going over the handful of details that I could describe without violating patient privacy or making my little girl upset. I started mixing up the cornbread at the same time, taking the basic mix and adding in cheese, corn, and canned green chilies to it along with some of the normal ingredients the mix called for, and then heating up one of Mom’s old skillets in the oven with some oil in the bottom of it to get it nice and hot while I let the cornbread batter rest a bit.

  “I told Mr. Clawson that if it was hard work that made people rich, then my Mama would be,” Tanya told my mother, and Mom grinned a bit.

  “She sure would be,” Mom agreed, glancing at me. “Why don’t you go make sure you have that picture put away so you don’t forget it for school tomorrow?” Tanya agreed that it was a good idea and hopped down from her seat at the table.

  I got the cornbread in the oven and sat down. “It has been a long day,” I said with a sigh.

  “How do you feel about Tanya’s big TV debut?” I grinned at my mother in spite of myself.

  “I doubt it will come to anything, considering it was nothing more than maybe a minute on the local news,” I pointed out. “But it makes her feel good and that’s a good thing.”

  “She’s got a good bit of fire in her, going toe to toe with the guy like that,” Mom pointed out, and I laughed.

  “I’m just glad she didn’t get in trouble for it,” I said. The whole situation seemed to have worked out well for everyone involved: the billionaire got to have a good time talking to my daughter, a warm-fuzzy memory in exchange for his donation to her school, the school had adequate funding to do a lot of things they wanted to do but hadn’t been able to, my daughter had had a little moment in the sun. And later on at some point, she would be able to go on the school-wide field trip to a water park. Part of me wished I could sign up as a chaperone, but getting time off work any time in the near future was nearly impossible.

  “She’s got good manners on her, at least,” Mom said. “I’m sure that she was completely polite while telling the poor old
rich man off.” I snickered at that.

  “Mama! Mama!” I got up at the urgent sound in my daughter’s voice, and hurried into the living room.

  “What is it, sweet pea?” Tanya was looking out through the window.

  “There’s a car! A big car!” I blinked at that, and went to the window to see what my little girl was talking about. There were always cars coming and going--it was an apartment building, and people living in the differing units worked all kinds of hours--but a “big car” wouldn’t occur to Tanya as being noteworthy unless it was truly unusual.

  I looked through the window to see a limo idling outside, pulled up to the curb at the front of the building. What the hell is a limo doing here? It isn’t even close to time for prom. I tried to think of what could possibly bring a limo to my building and came up empty. “Maybe someone has a special visitor,” I said to Tanya.

  The next moment, the door to the back of the limo opened, and I saw the head of an enormous teddy bear pop out of it first, followed by the bow tied around its neck. The thing was probably about the same size as my daughter--or if not, only a little smaller than her--and I couldn’t help but snicker at the apparently over-the-top date night some woman in the building no doubt had ahead of her. The bear obscured my ability to see the guy getting out of the car with it in his arms, but I saw him consult a phone, pulled out of the pocket of his pants and held out where he would be able to see it, looking around the bear itself.

  “I would love that bear,” Tanya murmured, as if it was a prayer. I reached down and tousled her silk-soft hair and shook my head again, imagining the twenty-something college girl who’d managed to catch the heart--or at least the interest--of some heir to a fortune; probably oil, considering it was Houston. The news the next morning would have a feel-good story about Cinderella and her fella doing the town up, with a special interest in their meeting at UH, or something to that effect.