The process reminded her of the makeovers she’d arranged on Thursday. Kate had been delighted to see the girls on the news that same night: first old footage of their protest, followed by a busy scene at the beauty shop. True to her word, Jennifer had made clear that this was a special event, courtesy of My Fair Lady salon.
“Did I tell you I used to be in foster care?” Eve’s comment snapped Kate back to the present.
“No. When?” She took a final snip at the bangs.
“I was fourteen.” Eve’s nose wrinkled beneath a shower of cut hairs.
“Where was your mom?”
“Doing six months in jail for drunk driving.” Just as Kate was wondering why she’d brought this up, Eve added, “My foster mom, Hilda Warden…I mean, Warren…wanted to keep in touch after I left, but Mom said no. Do you think I’m too old for foster care? Just until the baby’s born?”
“Once you turn eighteen, you’re considered an adult.” Still, the foster mother had offered continuing contact. “Couldn’t hurt to call her, though. She might know someone who helps young mothers like you.”
“I wish I could remember her phone number. It might be at the apartment.”
“We’ll have to arrange to collect your stuff.” Kate brushed the stray hairs off Eve’s face.
“Are you done?” the girl asked eagerly.
“You look great. See for yourself.” As Kate produced a small mirror, the doorbell rang.
Eve froze. “What if it’s Duane?”
“Stay out of sight. Get ready to dial 9-1-1.” Despite a squeeze of fear, Kate hurried into the living room, only to spot Brady with his hand on the knob. “Wait!” How many times had she warned him never to open the door without her present?
“It’s okay.” He pulled it wide.
On the porch stood Tony. Overcome with relief, Kate swayed and caught the edge of the sofa for support.
He strode across the room and grabbed her shoulders, his worried face close to hers. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“I thought it was Duane. Eve’s boyfriend.” Embarrassed by her show of weakness, Kate straightened.
Gently, Tony released her. “Leo stopped by this morning and told me about your crazy rush to the rescue. Kate, you should have let the police handle it. Or called me.”
“Eve needed my help.”
“Yes, but…” He shook his head in frustration.
“She’s fine, I’m fine and the baby’s fine,” she told him.
“You ran an unnecessary risk.”
“Are you my keeper now?” she challenged.
“Certainly not. However…”
Eve peered into the room. “Oh! Good morning, Mr. Franco. What’re you doing here?” Her gaze traveled between the two of them. “Whoa! Are you the surrogate dad?”
Tony ducked his head. “That’s right.”
“His wife went bye-bye,” Brady piped up, and lifted a framed photo from the table. “She was here but now there’s a teddy bear.”
“Cute.” Eve swung around as the timer rang. “Anyone for brownies?”
“Me!” Brady shrieked.
Grateful for the icebreaker, Kate said, “Me, too.”
“I’ll have a few.” Obviously realizing no one would listen to anything he had to say, Tony accompanied them to the feast.
But this was, Kate suspected, only a temporary break at best.
Chapter Ten
On the plus side: delicious brownies. The fun of watching Brady stuff his little face while Kate laughed at his messy cheeks. The chance to help Eve by accompanying her to the apartment.
On the not-so-fun side: watching for any sign of a lurking ex. Lugging out Eve’s TV set, computer and suitcases while she gabbed on her cell with her former foster mother, catching up on every detail of the past five years.
Most frustrating: letting Kate and Eve make all the arrangements instead of taking charge as he usually did. Not that their plans weren’t reasonable, but Tony had never been relegated to the role of bodyguard-cum-driver before.
When they arrived at the ranch-style home of the foster mom, Hilda Warren, she scarcely acknowledged Tony’s or Kate’s presence as she threw her arms around Eve. “I’m thrilled that you called. Like I said, my husband died last year, and my daughter and her husband moved to Boston, so I’m rattling around in this place. It’ll be wonderful to have you stay awhile,” she chatted as they traipsed inside.
“How long a while?” Tony asked from behind.
“We’ll figure that out as we go,” Mrs. Warren assured him. “That’s always worked for me.”
He didn’t relish seeing Eve out in the street again, which might very well happen if she and her new hostess crossed swords. “You should agree on the house rules in advance,” Tony warned. “Writing them down will prevent misunderstandings.”
The graying woman regarded him with a twinkle. “I’ve helped raise more than a dozen foster kids, along with my daughter. Believe me, I’ll have no trouble setting house rules.”
He subsided. In court, once you’d raised your objection, you accepted the judge’s decision with good grace.
“Where’s my bedroom?” Eve rushed into the interior of the house, which to Tony smelled like laundry soap and cedar chips. “Oh, what adorable mice! I don’t remember you having those.”
“They’re hamsters. When my great-aunt died last year, no one else in the family would take them, so I did.”
“Can I see?” Brady begged.
“You bet.” Hilda caught his hand and they hurried off together. The woman limped a little. Arthritis, Tony assumed.
Left alone with him in the living room, Kate said, “You’ve been a great help today, but you can lighten up. Hilda seems quite competent.”
“Matters go more smoothly when people make their expectations clear,” he explained.
Kate’s teasing expression vanished. “I see.”
She thought he was referring to the surrogacy agreement, Tony realized. Damn. He’d driven to her house today out of concern for her well-being, not a desire to revive their quarrel. “I’m speaking in general terms.”
“Don’t you ever forget you’re a lawyer?” she challenged.
“I wasn’t born an attorney,” he said in surprise. “I guess I do tend to view the world through the filter of my experience. Don’t you?”
“I notice people’s hairstyles, but I refrain from critiquing them,” she replied.
“Mom!” came Brady’s voice. “Come look!”
With an apologetic shrug, Kate obeyed, and Tony followed. He wasn’t particularly interested in seeing the cage of small golden rodents with dark eyes and stumpy tails, though. He was too absorbed in trying to puzzle out how a man who’d won trophies in debate could keep losing arguments he hadn’t knowingly entered.
Mostly, he wanted to mend fences without compromising his intention to raise his daughter alone. It made no sense for Kate and him to be at odds for the next five or six weeks until the birth. He wished she trusted him more, whether in the matter of midnight rescues or anything else. People had always relied on Tony, from his mother and sister to his friends and his coworkers. Even Esther used to value him as her sounding board during most of their marriage.
“Don’t stick your finger between the bars,” Kate warned Brady. The little boy was reaching toward a hamster, which eyed Brady’s finger as if it were a carrot.
“He likes me!” her son protested.
“For lunch, maybe,” Tony said. Brady giggled.
“You should get your little boy a pet, Kate,” Eve said. “Animals give you unconditional love.”
“Maybe someday. Right now, I’ve got my hands full.”
“That’s not the only thing that’s full. Congratulations,” Hilda said brightly. To Tony, she added, “You can bring in Eve’s belongings. I’ll show you her bedroom.”
Obviously, these women were in no condition to cart Eve’s stuff in, so Tony ignored the ache in his shoulders from hauling everything out of her
apartment earlier. Besides, to his amusement, Brady insisted on helping.
First the boy carried in a cosmetics bag, followed on the next trip by a pile of towels. “You’re quite a helper,” Tony said.
“We men have to stick together,” the little guy responded.
Suddenly Tony didn’t mind being ordered about by Mrs. Warren. “Darn right, bucko,” he said.
“What’s a bucko?”
“A tough guy.”
“Yeah!” The kid high-fived him and dropped the towels.
Tony scooped them up and brushed off the dirt. “We don’t have to tell anyone about this. A little dust never hurt anyone.”
“Okay.”
A long-forgotten memory came back, of being thirteen and unloading his parents’ car at the beach house they’d rented on Balboa Island, a dozen miles from here. While their parents were inside, he’d told his ten-year-old brother which bags to take and how to avoid spilling the contents. Bossy, that’s what Leo had called him.
When had they drifted so far apart? He hadn’t even told Leo about the pending divorce, his brother had pointed out this morning. Over a cup of coffee, Tony had apologized and explained the circumstances.
“A baby on the way and all that witch can think about is the care and feeding of her ego,” Leo had summed up with an edge of anger.
“What did Esther ever do to you?” She certainly hadn’t objected to Leo’s role as best man at their wedding. Yet, come to think of it, they’d rarely seen him after that.
“Oh, nothing,” Leo had said. “Let me know when my niece arrives. I might spring for a present.”
It had been on the tip of Tony’s tongue to mention that he’d chosen the name Tara. For some reason, he hadn’t. Their sister’s death was still a painful subject for both of them.
Now, as he glanced down at Brady’s earnest face, it struck him that having children gave you a second chance. You couldn’t go back and recapture what you’d lost with a sibling or a parent, but you could do things right with your kid. And maybe, by giving that youngster the attention and approval you’d craved when you were small, you could parent yourself a bit in the process.
They finished stowing Eve’s possessions in the house. “See you Thursday!” she called as the threesome departed.
“See you!” Kate replied.
As they drove away, Tony reflected on what a rarity this was, to have a whole Saturday free. And he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather spend it with than this pair. Also, they’d left matters between them far too unsettled. “Listen, can we talk?”
“You’re already talking,” Brady pointed out from behind them.
And there are big ears listening, too.
“This might not be the best time,” said Kate, apparently thinking the same thing.
“I could use some daddy training, if Brady’s willing,” Tony improvised. “There’s a park about a block from the hospital. Maybe you and I can find a few minutes to chat, as well. Then I’ll treat you both to lunch.”
“Yeah!” The boy pumped a fist. “Hot dogs, okay?”
Tony glanced at Kate. “With coleslaw, not fries,” she conceded.
He took that as a yes.
Lots of other families had the same idea, Tony discovered when they arrived. The place bustled with little groups picnicking and enjoying the sunny autumn weather.
As soon as they got out of the car, Brady grabbed Tony’s hand and tugged him toward the busy swings. “Push me.”
“Is it all right with you?” he asked Kate.
“Sure. I haven’t been able to do that since I became pregnant.” She indicated a vacant bench. “I’ll wait here.”
At the swing set, the only free seat hung between two older boys around ten or eleven who kept veering their swings into the air at dangerous angles. “Let’s try the slide instead,” Tony proposed.
“I want to swing! You promised.”
Since Tony’s arrival, the older boys had settled into a steady glide. “Okay. Let’s give it a whirl.”
Brady scrambled into place. Keeping the seat aligned, Tony began pushing, providing more and more lift until the boy squealed with delight.
Abruptly, their neighbors pushed off hard. He had no idea whether they’d exchanged glances, caught a second wind or simply decided to test him, but higher and higher they went, as if determined to fling themselves into orbit.
One boy leaped off in mid-arc, leaving his empty seat to careen wildly. Irked, Tony caught the chain and brought it to a safe landing. The kid trotted back and reclaimed his seat without a hint of apology.
The other fellow torqued his body until Tony feared a midair collision. Why did the city allow this sort of behavior? Any fool could see the liability.
Don’t you ever forget you’re a lawyer?
Okay, fine. But how else was he supposed to think?
Maybe like a dad.
As one of the swings twisted dangerously close, his patience snapped. “Stop, right now!” His sharp tone made the guilty rider flinch. “Slow that thing down and straighten it out, or you’re off the swings.” He turned to the boy’s friend. “That goes double for you.”
He half expected a smart-aleck demand to know who’d appointed him playground sheriff. Instead, the boys stopped. “It’s baby stuff anyway,” one sniffed, and off they rambled.
Two moms with preschoolers hurried to take their places. “Thanks,” one of them said.
“I was afraid to put my little girl on here,” added the other.
“Glad I could help.” Tony’s best reward, though, was the proud grin on Brady’s face.
He kept the swing going for a few more minutes. Then, to his relief, the boy spotted a couple of buddies from kindergarten and demanded to hop down. His feet had barely touched earth before he shot off to join them.
Tony sat beside Kate, who’d ditched her shoes and stretched her legs along the bench. He slid beneath them and plopped her knees over his lap. What a lovely, casually intimate way to sit, with her legs draped over him.
“I’m envious,” she said.
“You mean because I got to push Brady?” he hazarded.
“Because dads have such booming voices. I’d have had to shout myself hoarse at those boys.”
“I never thought about it that way.” He’d heard of women attorneys who trained their voices into a lower register to ring with more authority. “We tend to take our own advantages for granted.”
“When I figure out my advantages, I’ll let you know.”
“You’re lousy with advantages,” he said.
“Name three.”
“Beauty, brains and chutzpah.” The words came easily.
“Chutzpah, anyway.” Kate’s head turned as she checked on Brady. She did that every few minutes, he noticed.
He hoped he’d develop the same constant awareness of Tara’s actions when he was talking to people. Multitasking. Now there was an advantage women had that he’d forgotten to mention.
The park was filled mostly with couples and moms and grandparents, but he spotted a few fathers who appeared to be flying solo. Divorced, perhaps, with weekend visitation. One young father ran about with his son, who must have been at least nine and grew increasingly squirmy as his dad insisted on throwing a ball with a group of kids. The boy’s body language shouted, “Back off!”
By contrast, a paunchy fellow sat on a blanket on the grass, fervently punching buttons on a handheld device while his toddler waddled full speed toward a passing dog. Tony was debating whether to run interference when the dog’s owner tightened his grip on the leash, squatted and showed the child how to approach an animal gently.
The men weren’t all clueless. A fellow about Tony’s age tussled playfully with a toddler while keeping watch over a school-age girl jumping rope with friends. Obviously, he multitasked just fine.
The girl stopped jumping. “Dad!” she called. “Aren’t we supposed to pick up lunch for Mom? We’ll be late.”
The guy checked his wat
ch. “That’s right! Thanks for reminding me.”
Okay, so he didn’t have it down perfect. If that were Tony, he’d have set his cell-phone alarm. Problem solved.
Kate shifted, and he saw her bulge rippling. Tara must be on the move. How fascinating to think of her inside Kate’s body, nourished and protected, yet independent too.
As if in response, Kate hoisted herself to a sitting position and swung her legs around. “Everything okay?” Tony asked.
“My muscles are cramping. Besides, you wanted to talk, right?” She nodded toward Brady, who, with a borrowed toy shovel, was avidly digging in a sandy area alongside another boy. Halfway to China by now, no doubt. “This may be the only chance we get.”
Tony had almost forgotten that request. Now he sorted out his thoughts quickly. “First, I have to make sure we agree about what happens after Tara’s born.”
Her jaw tightened. “We already discussed that.”
“And?”
“I understand what I signed.” With strained patience, she added, “I’m not trying to challenge you, Tony.”
“Good. Because until the baby’s born, I’d like us to get along. That’s point number two, in case you’re counting.”
“We are getting along,” she growled.
He decided against citing her unfriendly tone. “I plan to continue as your birth partner, if that’s all right.”
“It might help if you showed up for lessons.” She winced. “Sorry for the sarcasm. Yes, I’d like you to continue.”
“I must have a rare gift,” Tony said ruefully.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re the sweetest-tempered person I’ve ever met, and I make even you cranky.”
“Me? Sweet-tempered?” She shot him a wry smile.
“Admit it. I try your temper.”
“You can be frustrating at times, but what guy isn’t?” she replied. “I don’t expect perfection, and I sure hope nobody expects it from me.”
On the walkway, a young couple pushed a stroller past them. Across a swath of grass, an elderly man and woman walked hand in hand.
His Hired Baby Page 10
