In the living room, Tony lingered near the door. “I don’t like the fact that Tara will grow up without a mom. I keep hoping Esther will rethink her decision. Once the initial excitement wears off, maybe she’ll realize how much she’s sacrificing.”
“You’d take her back?” Kate ventured.
“A part of me still feels married,” he said thoughtfully. “I admit, I’m angry, but it’s not as if she’s having an affair. I’ve always been proud of Esther’s drive, her wins in court, her honors and awards. And I’ve let the relationship part of our marriage drift as much as she has. Except for choosing to have a baby, we haven’t talked much in years about anything that matters.”
“You honestly think she’ll come back?” She ought to be pleased at the prospect. Instead, Kate felt torn. Could a woman who cast aside her commitments this way really become a good mother?
“If she’d been able to get pregnant, things might have been different. It’s possible that, in a way, she’s still reacting to the disappointment.” Tony glanced toward the teddy-bear photo as if seeing the underlying image of Esther, movie-star beautiful and radiating assurance. “At some level, I keep feeling that our marriage isn’t over.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Egotistical people sometimes doted on their kids, Kate supposed. At the salon, she had clients like that, insensitive to almost everyone except their adored children.
“Well, I’d better go.” Instead of moving, though, Tony let his gaze linger on the modest room. Kate became acutely aware of the old quilt tossed over the back of the sofa and a couple of toy trucks Brady had left on the carpet. “I like this place. Makes my house seem kind of cold.”
Cold but magazine-quality gorgeous. “Hold on. You might be suffering from cookie interruptus, and we’ve got plenty. Let me wrap some for you.”
He caught her elbow. “Save those for Brady. Besides, we’re both supposed to watch what we eat, right?”
Standing so close, she could hardly breathe. Better not tilt her face toward his. No sense tempting fate. “Right.” She eased back. “When do you suggest we start your daddy training? Or were you kidding about that?”
“I’m in deadly earnest.” He consulted his phone calendar. “How does Saturday afternoon sound? We could look at the nursery and baby proofing, that sort of thing.”
Brady would be attending a birthday party, she recalled. “Perfect. I’m free from two to four.”
He tapped in a note. Putting her on the schedule, along with his dry cleaning and housekeeping service, no doubt.
Well, fine. This certainly wasn’t a date. “We can practice breathing, too,” Kate blurted.
“Oh?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you having trouble with that?”
Yes, but she hoped he hadn’t noticed. “I mean, for childbirth!”
“Right.” He put away the phone. “See you Saturday, then.”
“See you.”
The funny thing was, she noted after she closed the door quietly behind him, her house didn’t feel cozy anymore. Without Tony, it felt kind of empty.
As Kate went to put away the cookies, she wondered if it was a mistake to spend more time with him. But since he had no close family, she seemed the logical person to help prepare him for his new role.
Neither of them was in any emotional state to begin a new relationship. As long as she kept that in mind, she should be fine.
Chapter Five
Like other members of the hospital staff, Tony had trained and prepared for disasters. Although Safe Harbor didn’t operate an emergency room, its personnel were ready to pick up the slack should the region be shaken by a major earthquake or hit by a terrorist attack.
The following Wednesday’s catastrophe, however, started with a simple Internet video featuring Dr. Samantha Forrest, the head of the hospital’s pediatrics department. When not busy with patients or departmental duties, Samantha was setting up a low-cost counseling clinic for needy women and families in a spare office just down the hall from the administration suite.
“Jennifer called to alert us,” Mark Rayburn explained around 4 p.m. after summoning Tony into his office. Jennifer Serra, the hospital’s public relations director, was honeymooning in Hawaii with her groom, online news reporter Ian Martin. “Neither of them expected Flash News/Global”—Ian’s employer—”to edit the interview in a sensationalistic way. She figured we’d better prepare for the public’s reaction.”
“To what, exactly?”
“I’ll show you in a moment.”
“I thought Ian was getting out of the news business. Isn’t he writing a book about pregnancy issues?” Tony had hoped never to see another of the man’s articles or videos about the hospital. They’d caused more than enough trouble already.
“He is. This was supposed to be his last interview.” Mark clicked to a bookmarked Web site. “Actually, he did it as a favor to help raise funds for the Edward Serra Memorial Clinic.” That was Samantha’s counseling center, named for a baby Jennifer Serra had lost years earlier. “He squeezed in the interview right before the wedding. Damn! I clicked the wrong link.”
Tony reined in his impatience. No sense venting his short temper on his perpetually tech-challenged boss.
He’d felt grumpy since last Friday, when Esther had arrived unexpectedly to file paperwork for their divorce, pack belongings and nag him to get a loan against the house. She’d stayed until Sunday, forcing him to cancel his session with Kate.
He’d hated calling it off, especially since he was trying to show what a reliable dad he would be. Tony hoped this nonsense on the Internet wasn’t going to make him late for tonight’s childbirth class. He’d vowed to be one of the first to arrive.
Finally Mark got the video started. “Here we go.”
On screen, the suave Ian stood beside the tall blond pediatrician in an empty office. “I’m Ian Martin for Flash News/Global, reporting from Safe Harbor Medical Center. With me is Dr. Samantha Forrest.”
“I’m thrilled that we’re establishing a clinic to support families in crisis, especially young mothers who surrender their babies,” Samantha said. “But as you can see, all we’ve got so far is space. We need funds for furniture, staff, computers—you name it.”
“Was it really necessary to mention the babies?” Tony grumbled. “That’s practically inviting another influx of kids. Social Services barely found enough homes for the last group.”
“It’s a smart tactic—donors take out their wallets for babies,” Mark pointed out.
In the video, Ian regarded his subject encouragingly. “If Dr. Samantha Forrest had a magic wand—or perhaps a few very generous sponsors—what’s her dream for the Edward Serra Memorial Clinic?”
The pediatrician’s expression brightened. “Well…” An obvious editing cut skipped over what had probably been a list of services. The interview jumped ahead to “…those young ladies might come in feeling like Cinderella, but they’d leave feeling like princesses.”
Mark’s teeth made a grinding noise.
“Cinderella?” Tony said in disbelief.
“Princesses,” the administrator muttered as if it were a dirty word.
“You’d buy them ball gowns?” Ian suggested on-screen. “Send them forth in carriages with white horses?”
“We’d give these girls a fresh start,” Samantha enthused. “Career counseling, beauty makeovers, whatever they need. These young women who generously make the choice to give life should be featured on magazine covers instead of those overexposed TV stars.”
“You heard it here first.” Ian spoke directly to the camera. “Sexy Cinderellas, coming up!”
As the video ended, Tony felt a sudden urge to bang his head against the wall. “Don’t they realize some people will take her literally?”
“You know Sam. When she’s on a roll, there’s no stopping her.” Mark sounded pulled between admiration and annoyance.
“And Ian ought to know better!”
“Jennifer said h
e apologized. He got carried away—old habits.” The administrator shook his head. “As you may have heard, we had two relinquishments already today, and this was posted just yesterday.”
“Yes, but there was nothing unusual about them, was there?” Even before Ian’s previous reports created the wrong kind of publicity for the hospital, a few infants had arrived each month. Grateful that they weren’t abandoned in dangerous circumstances, Tony had always been glad to help the young mothers fill out paperwork to free the babies for adoption.
“One of the girls got upset when she found out we don’t offer makeovers,” the administrator explained. “I’m afraid someone might sue us for false advertising.”
Great. “We have to run damage control,” Tony agreed.
“My thought exactly.”
Naturally, disaster would strike while the PR director was out of town. Of course, since her husband had helped provoke it, her presence might have been a mixed blessing.
At Tony’s suggestion, Mark called a meeting with Samantha, assistant PR director Willa Lightner and Betsy Raditch, the director of nursing. Sitting around a conference table, the five of them debated strategies and decided against holding a press conference, which was likely to call even more attention to the matter.
“We have to talk straight with the mothers,” Tony insisted. “This is a hospital, not a reality show. Honesty is the best policy, and the more up-front we are, the less room for misunderstanding.”
“I hate sending them off with nothing but a boot in the butt!” Dr. Forrest responded. Despite Tony’s respect for the hardworking pediatrician, he wondered if she’d ever learn to guard her tongue. “I wish we had the staff to start counseling them right now. Some of our nurses have told me how much they sympathize. Maybe they’d be willing to pitch in.”
“Their first obligation is to their patients,” Betsy pointed out. “If they want to volunteer, that’s fine, but most of them have family responsibilities on top of working their shifts.”
“What about peer counseling?” Willa asked. “You don’t have to be a psychologist or a nurse to listen and give advice.”
“Peer counseling would be cost-effective,” Mark agreed.
“Yes, but counselors have to be screened. Still, I’ll keep that in mind.” Samantha jotted a note.
“Now let’s draft a simple, clear statement for our staff in case any more moms come in asking for makeovers,” Tony said.
It was after six when they finished. That left him under an hour to grab dinner and change into the jeans he had brought.
Still plenty of time to get ready and arrive at class a few minutes early. Cheerfully, he headed for the cafeteria.
ON A BLANK WALL in the auditorium, Tina Torres’s laptop projected the words Labor, Contractions, Relaxation and Pain Management.
How about anger management? Kate wondered. It was five past seven, the hum of conversation was dying down, and Tony still hadn’t arrived.
She understood why he’d canceled their Saturday meeting, and besides, she wouldn’t have enjoyed visiting his house with Esther around. Still, he’d been awfully cavalier about suggesting they reschedule for next weekend. He didn’t seem to realize that meant finding a sitter for Brady.
Now Tony was late again. How embarrassing to be the only woman sitting alone two weeks in a row.
Kate’s sister had been skeptical about the prospects for daddy training. “Men have no idea how hard it is to manage a household and supervise kids,” she’d griped this morning when Kate visited. “Even now that the boys are school age, there’s PTA meetings and homework and running around buying supplies for special projects. Does the great attorney plan to leave all that to the nanny?”
“I don’t get a say in how he raises Tara,” Kate had responded as she helped fold laundry. Considering how often her sister helped her, it seemed only fair to assist with chores occasionally while Brady was in school.
“You have a moral obligation to your daughter!” Mary Beth had insisted.
“That isn’t how our contract sees it. Besides, he’ll come through. I’m sure he will.”
As Tina went to close the auditorium door, Kate wished she were more certain of that. She supposed she could call Tony’s cell number, but he shouldn’t need reminding of his appointments.
Was that all fatherhood meant to him? Just another item on his calendar?
“Goodness.” Tina hesitated in the doorway. “There seems to be a lot of commotion in the lobby. Wait!” She held up a hand as several attendees started to rise. “Whatever’s going on, I’m sure it’ll blow over by the time we’re done here.”
What kind of commotion? Regardless of whether it concerned Tony, Kate couldn’t bear to sit here another minute. She’d been through childbirth, for heaven’s sake. It wasn’t as if she needed someone to tell her about contractions.
Kate grabbed her oversize purse. “Sorry,” she said to the instructor, and hurried out.
What a relief. It wasn’t as if she had to attend childbirth class, anyway. If she flunked, what were they going to do, refuse to let her give birth?
In the hallway, she heard what sounded like a surge of voices from the direction of the lobby. Curious, Kate headed down the corridor and rounded a corner.
So many people milled around the lobby that, being a mere five foot three, she could only see the ones closest to her. Cameras flashed, and above the din a couple of girlish voices were arguing vehemently, although she couldn’t tell with whom.
Nearby, she spotted Dr. Rayburn’s nurse. “What’s going on?” Kate asked.
“We’ve been overrun by Cinderella wannabes.” Lori waved her arm warningly as a young man with a video-cam eyed Kate’s baby bulge. “Leave her alone!” she commanded. “She’s one of our regular patients.”
“Sorry.” The reporter, or perhaps simply a gawker, ducked away.
“This is because of Dr. Forrest’s remarks?” Alerted by a friend of Mary Beth’s who’d called while they were folding laundry, Kate had seen the video. “But most of these girls are still pregnant. They can’t be relinquishing their babies yet.”
Lori shrugged. “I don’t understand it, either. I popped over here to meet my fiancé for dinner, but he’s busy trying to help sort out this mess.”
When she pointed, Kate made out Dr. Jared Sellers, his head and shoulders visible above the throng. Oh! Nearby stood Tony, holding up a hand for quiet.
Glimpsing his expression of strained patience, she instantly forgave him for missing the class. And tried to ignore the inner voice whispering, What about Tara? How many times will she have to forgive her only parent for missing her life?
It wasn’t as if he had a choice.
“Ladies!” he said. “Our administrator, Dr. Rayburn, and Dr. Forrest are on their way. They’ll be happy to talk to you. However, there seems to be a misunderstanding about…”
“We understand just fine!” yelled a girl Kate couldn’t see. “We’re in the Moms-to-Be Club and we deserve makeovers just as much as those girls who give up their babies.”
“Yeah!”
“You tell ’em!”
“That’s right!”
More cameras flashed and whirred.
“Our assistant public-relations director, Mrs. Lightner, will take your names and contact information.” Tony indicated a middle-aged woman with a pleasant face. “We’ll do our best to help each of you with your particular situation.”
“Here’s my situation!” cried a girl, and with both hands, she extended her overgrown mane of frizzy hair.
“Shame on them,” Lori said close to Kate’s ear. “Don’t they care about anything but their looks?”
“Who are they, anyway?” Kate could barely make herself heard over the hubbub.
“A group of unmarried teens that Dr. Forrest advises at a community center,” Lori replied. “They showed up about fifteen minutes ago with the press in tow, demanding their so-called rights.”
The noise around them eased as Dr. F
orrest marched through the front door, parting the crowd as if she were a biblical figure. “Get a grip!” the pediatrician roared into the relative calm.
“Those of you who haven’t lined up, please get in the queue so we can assess your needs,” Tony added.
“I need to be beautiful and famous!” declared the frizzy-haired girl.
“What you need is a reality check,” Dr. Forrest shot back. “You’re about to become mothers, all of you. Are these your values—gimme gimme gimme? Now line up in front of Mrs. Lightner. You’ll be contacted for an appointment.”
“What kind of appointment?” called a man with a camera. “Beauty or counseling?”
“We’ll figure that out when we get there.” As the babble increased again, Samantha bellowed, “This is a hospital! There are people here waiting for loved ones in surgery! You girls show some common decency or I’ll pitch every one of you out on your ears!”
In the shocked stillness, Kate noticed Tony’s grim exchange of glances with Dr. Rayburn, who’d just arrived. They might not like the circus atmosphere, but the pediatrician’s thundering apparently didn’t go over so well, either.
In any case, the threat had the desired effect, because the girls lined up as requested. Surrounded by reporters, Dr. Rayburn patiently answered questions, somehow keeping calm despite the microphones thrust rudely in his face.
Kate slipped through the crowd until she reached Tony. “Hi.”
Guilt flashed in his green eyes. “I’m late, aren’t I?”
“Don’t worry. I know more than I want to about contractions,” Kate assured him.
“I hate disappointing you again,” he said.
“I’m not disappointed. This is quite a situation—” Kate broke off as Dr. Forrest joined them. A longtime client at Kate’s salon, Samantha was the doctor who’d introduced her to the Francos in the first place.
While the pediatrician was conferring with Tony, Kate noticed a young blonde woman about five or six months along. Unlike the other girls, she stood alone, peering anxiously toward Tony and Samantha.
Kate made her way through the crowd, which was beginning to thin out. “Can I help you?” she asked.
His Hired Baby Page 5
