Baby Love (49 page)

"Trey sweetie, I will call as soon as we land and cell phones are permitted again." I laughed, hugging him.

Preston was a good traveler.  She curled up and slept in my lap.  When we arrived in Baton Rouge there was a man holding a sign that said 'Tylar Sinclair.'

(Should I be put out that my father hadn't come personally to the airport?)

The man with the sign was his driver apparently.  His name was Darryl.  He got our luggage into the limo and we started out on the ride to my father's estate.

(Darryl's words - not mine.)

My dad's estate was about a half an hour from the airport in a rural area.  There was a long, winding drive up to the main house that was lined in magnolia trees currently not in bloom.  I spotted a barn with a riding arena just past the house.  Did my father have horses?

Darryl drove the car up the circular drive to the front of the house.  He got out of the limo and opened the door for Preston and me.  The large entrance door to my father's mansion was apparently opened by a couple of workers on his staff.

I carried Preston up the concrete steps to the large front porch of this antebellum mansion.  There were several house staff lined up on the porch to greet us.

A short black-haired woman with hawkish features stepped forward first. She had thick ankles and a hairdo that looked like it dated back to the 1960's. I could see the whisker chin hairs that she hadn't bothered to pluck. I guessed her to be in her mid-sixties. Her dress was black with a crisp white pinafore apron tied around the waist.

"Mrs. Sinclair,' she greeted me stiffly, "I am Karen Deeny, Judge Tylar's head of staff here.  I will see to your every need and comfort."

I actually had chills for some reason.  There was no warmth about her whatsoever.  She seemed distant and empty.  She instructed another servant by the name of Edie to take show us to our suite upstairs.  I clutched Preston all that much tighter to me.

Our suite was gorgeous.  My room had a lovely ornate canopy bed; the adjoining room was Preston's nursery outfitted with a dark cherry wood crib, changing table, play suite with all kinds of stuffed animals and Fischer Price toys.

I unpacked our suitcase while Preston crawled around on the thick carpet exploring the suite and pulling some of the stuffed animals off of the shelves in her nursery clutching them tightly.  There were boxes of disposable diapers in various sizes in her nursery.  I scooped her up and took her coat and hat off, pulling her tights down to change her diaper.

She sucked on her thumb looking all around the massive suite that was ours.  I needed to call Trey since it had slipped my mind once we had landed.  I diapered the baby and then put her in the fenced play suite in her room that had an array of stuffed toys and a princess castle that she could crawl in and out of at her leisure.

"Hi baby," he answered after the phone had only rang a couple of times.

"Is everything okay?"

"Oh Trey," I said already missing him.

"This place is awesome but I haven't even seen Dad yet.  Just a handful of servants. I so wish you were here with me."

"Tylar baby - I wanted to be there with you but you never said anything about wanting me there.  I didn't want to intrude on your time getting to know your father."

"Trey you have taken off work so much because of me.  I just didn't want you to feel obligated or that I couldn't handle this by myself.  You are a senior partner.  You don't need these kinds of distractions."

"Tylar," he said with a heavy sigh, "You are my first priority.  Do you want me there?"

"Only if your being here won't majorly disrupt one of your cases."

"Then I will be there first flight I can get out of Atlanta tomorrow okay?"

"Thank you Trey.  I love you."

"I love you too, baby.  Give our little 'Vampira' a kiss from daddy okay?"

"Okay Trey," I replied smiling. "I will see you soon."

There was a knock on the door to our suite shortly after I had gotten off the phone with Trey.  It was Karen announcing that Judge Tylar was home and that there was tea being served downstairs in his study.  Preston had crawled up to the prune-faced Karen and had placed her hands around the thick tree-trunk ankles of the 'no-nonsense' servant. 

"I've got her," I said, scooping Preston up in my arms. 

"Please tell my father that we will be down shortly.

"Of course Mrs. Sinclair," the servant responded taking her leave.

I quickly freshened up and then gathered my baby into my arms ready to face the father I had only seen once in a crowded court room when I had not been at my best.

I looked at Preston adorable in her royal blue velvet dress and tights.

"Showtime," I said to her, kissing her brow gently.

CHAPTER 43

              My father was in the drawing room as Preston and I were escorted there by the frigid midget. I clutched my baby girl close to me.

              "Tylar," my dad said coming to me and embracing me warmly.

              "Forgive me for not being able to come to the airport but I think you will be pleased with what I have found out.  Is this my grandbaby?"

              "Yes, dad.  This is Preston Michaela Sinclair.  She is actually seven months old today."

              "May I hold her?"

              "Of course," I smiled.

              He held his arms out and Preston immediately gave him her dimpled grin and reached for him.  He took her from me talking to her and telling her what a beautiful little girl she was just like her mother.

              "Actually Dad, she resembles Trey considerably."

              "Nonsense daughter," he replied, "I can see Marley and you in her just as plain as day."

              "By the way, Trey is joining us here tomorrow - I hope that's okay?"

              "Absolutely," he answered, "I was remiss in not including him in the invitation initially.  I presumed he had a busy schedule with his firm."

              "Being a senior partner has its perks I guess."

              Dad carried Preston over to a birdcage in the corner where a couple of parakeets were chirping and flapping around.

              "Preston those are 'birdies'," he said annunciating the word, patiently pointing and repeating it several times to her. 

              She spoke some gibberish and then leaned over closer to the cage to get a good look.  She became excited as she watched the birds squawk and lift their tail feathers and flutter around the gilded cage.

              She looked over at me her eyes shining and pointed to the cage.

              "Berty, mamma," she said, smiling, "Berty."

              "She is quite intelligent," my father responded.

              "Again," I replied, "She gets that from Trey."

              He looked over at me quizzically; his expression was one of surprise.  He soon realized that he had been exposed to some of my dry humor.  He smiled.

              "Ah yes," he said, "I recall getting a glimpse of that sense of humor of yours the first time I saw you in court when Mr. Louderdick wouldn't shut up."

              I chuckled at my dad and the way that he seemed so normal without his judicial robes; not the stodgy judge with the intimidating expression that had glared at the windbag attorney that day.

              Just then Ms. Deeny came into the room carrying a silver tray with an ornate teapot and delicate china cups and saucers.  There was a platter in the center with tea biscuits, biscotti and graham crackers.

              My father motioned for me to sit down in a high back chair.  He was still holding Preston in his arms as he sat across from me.  Ms. Deeny set the tray on the coffee table between us.

              "Will there be anything else, Judge?"

              "Not at the moment.  Thank you Ms. Deeny."

              He turned from her dismissively.  It almost seemed as if he wasn't all that fond of the frigid midget either.

              "She's not very warm and fuzzy is she?" I commented as I poured our tea.

              I handed him his cup on the saucer.

              "That's an understatement," my father replied, stirring a sugar cube into his tea.

              "She was very committed to my wife.  She doesn’t like the fact that you represent my infidelity to Olivia while we were engaged.  I believe that my wife likely took her into her confidence early on when the 'negotiations were being conducted behind my back between your

Uncle Matthew and Olivia."

              My father set his teacup down as Preston squirmed against him spotting the graham crackers on the tray.  That was yet another word she had learned in the last few weeks.

              She leaned over toward the tray, her little hand clasping and unclasping as she repeated, "Cacker, cacker."

              "Of course darling, Grandpa will get you a cracker."

              Dad reached for a graham cracker handing it to her; she immediately started chewing on it.

              "Dad - she will have that cracker a soggy mess all over you within a few minutes."

              "That's not a problem Tylar," he laughed.

              "I want to enjoy all the things that I missed with you."

              I sipped my tea as my father filled me in on what we were going to do the following day.  My dad's P.I. had located Trinity LaFleur.  We would be going to Vidalia to visit her at a pre-arranged time. It was less than a two hour drive.

              I told him about the key and the note from my mother instructing Trinity to give Maggie an envelope that had been in the other blue velvet jewelry box's false bottom.

              "How strange it is," he said, "When I gave those to your mother I had no clue that the boxes would prove to be more valuable than the jewelry itself."

              "That brings a question to my mind about your gift," I said.

              He looked over at me waiting for me to continue.

              "Why give those to my mother?  They had belonged to your grandmother.  Wouldn't you have wanted Olivia to have them?"

              "Tylar for the brief period of time that I had the privilege of knowing Marley I knew immediately that she was an 'old soul'."

              "The jewelry was old and charming; it doesn't have significant monetary value but it was something treasured by me because it was my grandmother's.  She had raised us after our parents were killed in a boating accident. I was just five years old.  The jewelry reminded me of the person that had raised and protected me until I reached adult age.  I wanted that for Marley."

              "Dad - that brings me to another question.  In Mom's diary notebook it mentions the day that you stopped by her house to give her the jewelry boxes and tell her good-bye.  She mentioned that you had words with Matthew; she mentioned that he stopped threatening her after that."

              "Oh that," he replied.  "I put the fear in him.  I told him that I knew he was running prostitutes including his own sister.  I told him that I had given Marley my protection.  That she had a means of notifying me should he ever decide to try and put her to work like he had attempted to do the night of my bachelor's party.  I also told him that I had hired someone to watch her and that I would know if he reverted back to his old behavior with respect to her."

              "That was kind of brilliant," I conceded.

              His face looked pained.

              "If only I had really done it rather than simply alluding to it.  She may be alive today."

              My dad was clearly anguished by the thought that he could have or should have done more.  But frankly, who would have thought that Matthew was the sociopath it appeared he had been.  How had he managed to stay underneath the radar for all of these years?  Did he still make his living as a pimp?  It appeared that Matthew had graduated to much more lucrative schemes.

              Just then our quiet reverie was broken by Preston.  Her face was smeared with soggy graham cracker crumbs.  She was looking over at me saying, "Num-num, num-num."

              She was squirming in dad's arms reaching for me.

              "I'm not sure what it is she requires," my father said, handing her off to me.

              I blushed taking her from him and feeling her fingers tugging at my shirt.

              "She wants to be fed," I said.  "I still nurse a couple of times each day."

              "Of course darling," he said.  "Let me give you your privacy unless you would be more comfortable upstairs in your suite."

              I thought about Ms. Deeny, his nosey housekeeper.  I truly hoped she was not one in the same with the 'nanny' he had told Trey would be at my disposal.