A Billionaire and a Baby

by Marie Ferrarella

It was always about him, wasn’t it? This wasn’t going anywhere. “Oh, no? My mistake.” She wanted to hang up. “Look, if there’s nothing else—”

  He’d offended her, he thought, surprised at the regret that followed in the wake of the realization. Sin-Jin didn’t want to leave it that way. After all, she had done him a service. “Sorry. I guess I’m just not into interpersonal exchanges.”

  Sherry softened slightly. She sensed that apologies didn’t come easily to him. “They’re called relationships, Sin-Jin, and don’t worry, you’re not in one. Our paths just crossed, that’s all.”

  “Right.” Sin-Jin paused again, then added, “Thank you.”

  She felt warmth seeping in. Damn him, but he could turn her around faster than a weathervane swinging back and forth in a gale. “You’re welcome.”

  She continued smiling long after she hung up the telephone.

  He was home; her baby was home.

  Finally.

  Sherry had no idea she could feel this wide expanse of emotions running through her all at once. Relief, joy, pride, love, they were all bouncing around within her, temporarily blocking out the exhaustion that stood waiting in the wings.

  Ever since she and her parents had brought her son home from the hospital six hours ago, the house had been laid siege to. There had been an endless stream of visitors from the moment they had arrived, all bearing gifts, all eager for a peek, however brief, of the tiny guest of honor.

  John Connor Campbell lay in the white Jenny Lind crib bought for him by the ladies of The Mom Squad and assembled for him by his loving grandparents. All five and a half pounds of him.

  Sherry lost count of how many times she came by just to look in on him.

  He looked like an angel, dropping by for a visit. Sherry hoped that she would never think of him any other way. She doubted that she could. He was her special miracle.

  Making her way back to the living room, she watched as her mother ushered the last visitor out. Sherry sank down on the sofa. The low buzz of noise that had surrounded her for the past six hours had finally faded. Her eyes drifting shut, she demurred when her mother said she was staying the night. She should have known better.

  “I’m not taking no for an answer, Sherry Lynn Campbell.” Opening her eyes, Sherry saw that her mother had fisted her hands at her sides, a sure sign that she was digging in. “We can send your father home, but I’ll be staying here for the night.” Sherry tried to protest, but only got as far as opening her mouth. Her mother headed her off at the pass. “There’s no way I’m going to leave you all alone with a brand-new baby. You’ll both be crying within the hour.” As the woman moved about the room, straightening, she picked up the throw that had been set aside and spread it out over her daughter’s legs. “If it hadn’t been for my own mother, flying in from Ireland to be by my side those first few weeks I had you, I would have fallen to pieces. The least I can do is return the favor in her memory.”

  Sherry knew it was useless, but she felt bound to try. “Mom—”

  Sheila fixed her daughter with a reproving look. “You wouldn’t be wanting me to dishonor the memory of your sainted grandmother, now would you?”

  Game, set and match, she thought. “No,” Sherry sighed. “I wouldn’t. If you’re sure—”

  Her mother didn’t wait for the sentence to be completed. “I’m sure.” She looked at her husband. “You can make your own dinner for a change, Connor. See what I have to put up with every night.”

  Connor snorted. “For your information, I’ll be taking my supper at McIntyre’s tonight.”

  “Restaurant food. You know perfectly well they don’t serve authentic Irish food at McIntyre’s.” Sheila sniffed disdainfully.

  “Yes, my love,” Connor replied patiently, “and if I didn’t, I’d have you to remind me of it.” He gave his wife his most calculated pathetic look, the one only family got to see. “But what’s a poor man who can’t boil water to do?”

  Sherry couldn’t keep it in any longer. She laughed. “Mom, let him stay for supper.”

  “But I thought you didn’t want too many people around,” her mother said.

  “I didn’t want to put you out,” she corrected. “And Dad’s not people, he’s Dad. Since you’re here and I know you’re going to cook for me no matter what I say, you might as well throw another plate on the table and have Dad stay, too.”

  She’d never known her mother not to cook for ten and expect that people would just show up to avail themselves of leftovers. When Sherry was growing up, she’d been certain that she had a huge family. It surprised her to realize that there were only the three of them at the core and that all the others were just friends she’d grown up calling uncle and aunt. Friends who enjoyed the warm atmosphere created by Connor and Sheila Campbell.

  “Well, if you insist, love,” her father said magnanimously as he settled himself in on the other end of the sofa.

  “I insist.” The doorbell rang and her smile faded. She stared at it in disbelief. She’d had more visitors than comprised the populations of some small third-world countries. “I didn’t know there was anyone left in Bedford who hadn’t dropped by today.”

  “I’ll get it,” Sheila volunteered cheerfully. “You just rest yourself.”

  The instant his wife was out of the room, Connor leaned forward toward his daughter. “If she starts to drive you crazy tonight, just give me a call. I’ll come for her in an instant.”

  It was shorthand for her father saying that he wasn’t looking forward to spending the night without her mother by his side. She wondered how he’d managed all those years when he’d been sent to various places in the world on assignment. And more than that, she wondered if there would ever be that kind of relationship, that kind of love, waiting for her someday.

  “The guest room’s got a double bed, Dad.” It was a needless piece of information. He’d seen her guest room. “Why don’t you just stay the night here with Mom?”

  Her father pretended to debate the matter. As an actor he would have starved, she thought in amusement. “I don’t think she wants me interfering.”

  Her parents thrived on interfering with each other. “You can take turns changing the baby.”

  “Well, if you insist.” He heard his wife’s heels on the tile as she returned to the room. “Hey, Sheilo,” he called her by the nickname he’d given her, “Sherry here says that I can stay and help if I behave. We’ll take turns on the poop brigade.”

  “Dad!”

  His daughter was looking over his head. Twisting around, he saw why Sherry looked so embarrassed. His wife was not alone.

  Connor rose to his feet, extending his hand in a warm greeting. “Well, nice to see you again, Sin-Jin.” He didn’t bother hiding his smug expression. “Although I can’t say I’m surprised.”

  Sherry wanted to sink into the sofa and just disappear. “Dad—”

  “Well, I’m not,” Connor protested. “A fella’s not supposed to lie, is he?”

  Sherry’s father might not have been surprised to see him show up here, Sin-Jin thought, but he had to admit that he was. He hadn’t expected to be anywhere near Sherry’s home. But he’d gotten a call from the hospital’s insurance administrator, per his earlier request, notifying him that the Campbell baby had been discharged that morning. Sin-Jin had had Mrs. Farley cut a voucher from his private funds for the proper amount of the account the moment he’d hung up. It was already in the mail.

  The thought that “that was that” was somehow short-lived. It had faded in the wake of his desire to see how the child was faring.

  If the mother happened to be in the same vicinity, well, so be it.

  It was a flimsy excuse.

  Sin-Jin realized that Connor was waiting for him to say something that would back him up. Obligingly, he allowed, “No, he’s not. I can’t say that I expected to be here, though.” Feeling uncustomarily awkward, he looked down at the gaily wrapped box he was holding. Again, he had to thank Mrs. Farley, who knew exa
ctly what to get. “I brought the baby a little welcome home gift.”

  Sherry took the box from him and removed the ribbon. And then laughed. It was a Green Bay Packers jersey, made for an infant. Even so, it looked almost too large for the baby. Something to grow into, she mused.

  Tossing the box onto the sofa, she held the jersey up for her parents to see. “Green Bay?”

  Sin-Jin wasn’t much into sports anymore, but he did follow the team’s progress when he had the chance.

  “It’s a feisty team. I admire their spirit.” He saw the look in Sherry’s eyes and knew exactly what she was thinking. That he’d opened himself up a little more. The comment hardly deserved to be guarded. A lot of people liked the Green Bay Packers.

  “I was just beginning to make dinner, Sin-Jin,” Sheila informed him. “You’ll stay, of course.” Sweetly extended, the invitation still left no room for refusal.

  Sherry slanted a look toward him. She didn’t want the man to feel trapped. Or worse, critical of these people she loved so dearly. “Mom, I’m sure Sin-Jin has somewhere else to be.”

  Sin-Jin thought about his own house, empty except for the housekeeper who always discreetly faded into the shadows, of the dinner he was going to partake in solitude. There was something about the way the three people in the room interacted, the body language he observed that created an atmosphere of warmth that pulled him in. It was like nothing he had experienced, certainly not within his own family.

  The decision was spur-of-the-moment. “Oddly enough, I don’t. Mrs. Farley thought I needed some free time.”

  “And Mrs. Farley is?” Connor asked.

  “His secretary,” Sherry quickly cut in just in case Sin-Jin was about to tell her father that it was none of his business. “She guards you with her life, you know. The first time I tried to get in to see you, she absolutely refused to allow it. Told me to call back at a more convenient time.”

  Sin-Jin smiled. “She tends to be a little protective. We go way back.”

  Tilting her head beguilingly, Sheila asked, “How far is that?”

  “Far,” Sin-Jin replied, amused. Apparently relentless questioning was a family trait.

  Sherry grinned. “I think he’s getting immune to you, Mom.”

  “The evening is still young,” her mother replied with a wink directed at Sin-Jin. A tiny mewling sound came over the baby monitor that was placed in the center of the coffee table. Sheila exchanged glances with her husband. “I’m off for the kitchen, Connor. Think you can handle John?”

  Sherry saw Sin-Jin’s head jerk up at the mention of her son’s name. He looked startled. Why?

  “Piece of cake,” Connor said confidently. Inclining his head toward Sin-Jin, he shared a confidence with pride. “See, I’m a modern man. Diapering, feeding, all those things.”

  “It’s called teaching an old dog new tricks,” Sheila said over her shoulder as she left the room, she going in one direction, her husband in another.

  Alone, Sherry turned to look at Sin-Jin. He still appeared slightly bewildered. “You looked surprised.”

  “I, um—” Sin-Jin glanced toward the stairs.

  And then she thought she understood. “I named him after you.”

  “Then his name is actually St. John?”

  “No,” she admitted. “Just John. I couldn’t get myself to call him St. John, so I settled on John.” Looking at him, she tried to envision what Sin-Jin had been like years ago. Probably still as formal. He probably wore crisply creased pants and blazers when he went to play. The image made her smile. “You must have endured a lot of teasing as a boy.”

  He looked at her blankly. His childhood had been marked with loneliness, not teasing. “Why?”

  “Well, you can’t say that ‘St. John’ is exactly an everyday name, now, can you? And kids always have a field day with people who are different.”

  He shrugged carelessly, thinking that perhaps he’d made a mistake, agreeing to remain. He should get going before the questions began in earnest. “I survived.”

  “Obviously.” He looked like someone about to take flight, she thought. Probably regretting being roped into dinner. She needed to get this out before Sin-Jin suddenly made his apologies and left. “Anyway, now that you’re here, I was wondering if I could ask you about something—”

  All right, here it came. The payoff. He might have known there was a reason behind the invitation and display of filial closeness. She’d been setting him up for the kill. “Look, don’t get the wrong idea. I’m still not going to give you an interview—”

  The cool rebuff had her pulling up short. “I’m not asking for an interview.”

  “Oh?” He didn’t know whether to believe her and feel like a jackass, or applaud the way she could shift gears in midtransit.

  She wasn’t about to get caught in a lie. “At least, not right now.” Owen had been very clear that he wanted her to take it easy. Any stories she was on could wait. It wasn’t as if any of the stories were a matter of national security. “I’m on maternity leave and I intend to make the most of it.”

  He eyed her, waiting to see what she would come up with. “Then what’s your question?”

  “Will you be my son’s godfather?”

  “What?” The woman took the prize when it came to catching him off his guard.

  “Godfather,” she repeated, enunciating the word. “You know, someone who stands up for the baby at the baptism. Technically it’s supposed to be someone of the same faith as you, but Father Conway is a good guy.” She had known the white-haired priest for as long as she could remember. Going to church meant seeing the small, sprightly man, who looked very much like an elderly, transplanted elf, officiating at Mass. “He’ll look the other way if Dad asks him to. What really counts here is the character of the godparent.”

  How could she even say that with a straight face? “You don’t know anything about my character.” He thought of all the scathing articles he’d read about himself. “And what you do know doesn’t exactly qualify me as an example for a young boy.”

  She wasn’t about to get swayed by the reports, especially now that she had had a chance to be around him. “I know you wouldn’t turn your back on a pregnant woman giving birth. That’s enough for me. So will you?” When Sin-Jin didn’t respond immediately, she gave her own interpretation to his hesitation. “I intend to live forever, so you don’t have to worry about having to take care of Johnny, and even if I don’t, my parents are ready to take him, so all that remains for you, really, is the honor of the thing.”

  This had to be a gimmick of some kind. “Why are you giving this ‘honor’ to me?”

  She would have thought that was self-evident. She didn’t like the suspicion in his eyes. “Because if it wasn’t for you,” she said softly, “my son wouldn’t be here now.”

  Without him noticing, she’d placed her hand on his arm in quiet supplication. He felt himself cornered. And not resenting it. “You’re not leaving me any space to turn you down.”

  She smiled, the effect hitting him right between the eyes. “That’s the general idea.”

  “All right, what do I have to do?”

  She thought for a second. “Be there at the church. Oh, and hold him while the priest sprinkles holy water on his forehead.”

  There had to be more. “What else?”

  Sherry shook her head. “That’s all.”

  He had no experience in these matters, but it definitely sounded too simple, too innocent. “I don’t even have to buy anything?”

  “Nope.” She thought of her cousin who she’d asked the moment she knew she was carrying a child. Even before she told Drew. “The godmother takes care of the baby’s christening outfit.” She smiled up at him. “All you have to do is be there.”

  He wanted to leave himself a way out. “My schedule’s pretty booked.”

  She’d already found out that he worked a full week and sometimes added on a Saturday, but he kept Sundays to himself. “It’ll be on a Su
nday afternoon.”

  She was good, he’d have to give her that. “Got all the answers ready, don’t you?”

  “I always try.” She tried to read his expression. “So, what do you say?”

  He couldn’t have explained why this felt as if it was a huge commitment on his part, but it was, even though she had just told him it wasn’t. He wanted to choose his commitments, not have them presented to him.

  “I’m not—”

  Sherry shrugged. She wasn’t about to beat him over the head and drag him to the church.

  “Well, the honor belongs to you. If you can’t make it, my dad’ll be there in your place, like a stand-in. But your name’s going on the certificate. Don’t worry, there’re no strings,” she assured him again. “We don’t want anything from you. It’s just my way of saying thank you.”

  Had she argued, he might have stood a chance. Her dignified retreat had left him with an odd feeling of guilt that he was far from familiar with. Under the circumstances, he said the only thing he could.

  “I’ll be there.”

  Hiding her triumph, Sherry only smiled and said, “That’s great.”

  Sin-Jin couldn’t have cited why, but he felt like the man who had just signed on the dotted line and handed over a deposit on the Brooklyn Bridge.

  Chapter Ten

  Sin-Jin couldn’t remember the last time that the minutes had just slipped away, knitting themselves into hours without his having monitored their departure by periodically glancing at his watch. He hadn’t looked at the worn timepiece once. The company around him was too compelling.

  Accustomed to conversations that dealt with fair market values of products, the international worth of the dollar and the recent history of various stocks, listening to personal stories about the woman sitting beside him and the trials of a marriage that seemed to have been made in heaven instead of hell—the marketplace of both his parents’ numerous unions—was an unusual change, to say the least.

  Sin-Jin found himself being reeled in until he felt as if he’d known Sheila and Connor Campbell for years rather than for hardly any time at all. And through them, Sherry.