Be My Baby (3 page)

The Ice Queen shook her head. “I haven’t any idea. Somewhere in Texas supposedly. Charles may have found out more as he’s been looking for her. I’ll get a copy of his report and send it to you.” Her mouth narrowed to a thin line. “Barrett met her in a bar, if that tells you anything.”

It didn’t tell him much. Given where Barrett Moreland spent most of his time, it wasn’t much of a surprise. “So you want me to see if I can track her down for you?”

The Ice Queen shook her head. “I don’t want anyone directly connected to Moreland Enterprises to look for her, other than Charles, of course. She’s covered her tracks quite well, apparently. I’m afraid she might run away again if she knows we’ve found her. And I’d prefer that we not be directly…involved in the search.”

The hairs on the back of Roy’s neck did a quick dance. Something was way off here, but it was in his best interests not to find out exactly what it was. He’d rather stick with the Ice Queen’s fabricated story than dig too far beneath the surface and find out something he’d be better off not knowing. He’d get paid either way, and someone else could do the dirty work. “You want me to have someone else do the looking?”

She nodded. “Yes. Someone not associated with us. But someone who can do a more thorough job than Charles.”

“A contractor, like you said.”

The Ice Queen smiled, slowly. “Yes, exactly. A contractor. Do you know someone who might be…appropriate?”

“I know a couple of people.” He shrugged. “I can get in touch with them and see if they’re available.”

“Excellent.” The Ice Queen reminded him vaguely of Mr. Burns on
The Simpsons
for a moment, particularly when she smiled again. “Have them get in touch with me directly. I’ll give you the number. That way you won’t have to concern yourself with the details. I’ll make sure your bonus reflects the help you’ve provided.”

Roy breathed a silent sigh of relief. This was one operation he definitely didn’t want to be in on directly. He’d be delighted to turn it over to somebody else, preferably somebody several steps removed from him. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll see what I can do for you.”

“Excellent,” the Ice Queen repeated. “I appreciate your help on this, Roy. We need to find this woman. More importantly, we need to find my grandson.”

Her smile chilled him to the bone. Roy decided to head to the nearest bar for a quick warm-up before he did anything else.

At one, Lars wandered over to Sweet Thing, Allie Maldonado’s bakery and café. He figured one or more of his brothers ought to be around, and if not them, Wonder Dentist since he was Allie’s Significant Other. Why his nickname was Wonder Dentist had always been a mystery to Lars, particularly since his real name was Steve Kleinschmidt. Wonder could be sort of annoying, but he definitely qualified as a distraction. And distraction was what he needed after deflecting another round of veiled passes from the hotel owner during the morning.

He wondered briefly if he’d have been interested in the woman if he hadn’t spent those years married to Sherice. Maybe. Before Sherice he’d been dumb enough to let his dick do his thinking on occasion.

Wonder was ensconced at a table on Allie’s patio in spite of the distinct nip in the air. Sitting outside in mid-November wouldn’t have been a possibility back in West Des Moines, but in Konigsburg, cool weather seemed to mean temperatures in the high fifties. Some Konigsburgers reacted by joyously pulling on sweaters, while others ignored it on the assumption that the hot weather would be back in a couple of weeks. Apparently, Wonder fell into the latter group.

Lars slid into an Adirondack chair opposite him. “What do you recommend for lunch?”

“Well, you can go with the Winter Wonderlanders and have cream of mushroom soup and a hot sandwich to top it off, or you can join the rest of us in Reality Land and have your usual.”

“I don’t have a usual.” Lars leaned back, spreading his napkin in his lap. “Just because I’m an accountant, that doesn’t mean I’m predictable.”

“Hi, Lars.” Allie stepped into the open doorway, brushing her hands against her chili-pepper-adorned chef’s pants. “Roast turkey on whole wheat, cole slaw on the side, right?”

“I rest my case,” Wonder muttered.

Lars narrowed his eyes. “How’s the ham?”

“Same as always.” Allie grinned. “Not that exciting, though. How about if I bring you the chicken salad? That’d be a change.”

Lars frowned. As a rule he didn’t like chicken salad. On the other hand, he hated falling into a stereotype. “Fine.”

Wonder slurped up a spoonful of whatever soup he was having. “Your problem, Toleffson, is that you’re resisting the whole accountant thing. Why not revel in your predictability?”

“Because I’m not sure how much I enjoy being one of your walking punchlines.” Lars leaned back in his chair as the sunlight warmed his face. If this constituted winter, he figured he could give his earmuffs to Goodwill.

“So how goes the search for the babysitter? Anything new on the ankle-biter front?” Wonder took a large bite of his sandwich, using his napkin to wipe off a stray bit of mayonnaise at the corner of his mouth.

“Do not refer to my niece as an ankle-biter. She’s way beyond that.” Cal slid into a chair beside Wonder. “As I recall, she nibbled on at least three of your fingers the last time you looked at her teeth.”

“Don’t remind me,” Wonder grumbled. “I don’t usually do kids under five. My fingers still tingle when I hear her name.”

Lars shrugged. “I’ll feed her before I bring her in next time. Still, if somebody sticks their fingers in your mouth, there’s always this temptation to bite them.”

Wonder gazed at him through narrowed eyes. “You bite my fingers, and you’ll be doing my books for free for the next decade, so help me.”

Allie stepped through the door carrying a plate with a sandwich. “Getting back to the more interesting topic, how’s the babysitter search coming?” She set the plate in front of Lars, along with a glass of tea. “Here you go. I didn’t have time to come up with something more interesting for you to drink. Maybe next time.”

“Maybe.” Lars studied the chicken salad, checking for pineapple or grapes. He didn’t see any—so far, so good. “I may have found somebody. She’s a single mom with a baby, so she can take care of Daisy while she takes care of her son.”

“What’s her name?” Pete dropped into the chair beside him.

Lars had to think for a moment. He really needed more sleep. “Jessamyn Carroll.”

Three faces stared at him blankly. Four, if you counted Allie.

Wonder shook his head. “Never heard of her.”

“Me neither.” Allie’s forehead was furrowed. “Where does she live?”

“She manages the Lone Oak B and B.”

His brothers and Wonder still looked blank.

Allie’s forehead smoothed marginally. “Okay, I think I’ve seen a woman out there. I just didn’t know her name.”

Pete narrowed his eyes. “You get her references?”

“Yes. It’s fine.” Lars set his glass down with a click. Pete was only a couple of years older but he sometimes behaved as if they were dog years. “We’re going to give it a try for a month, see how it works out.”

Allie was smiling again. “It sounds win-win to me, Lars. She gets to stay home with her son and you get someone who’s got the time to look after Daisy.”

Right
. Lars decided not to mention his own concerns about the amount of time Jessamyn Carroll would have to do that. For better or worse he was committed.

He took a bite of chicken salad. Not bad. Not bad at all. But he liked the turkey better.

Chapter Three

Daisy Toleffson didn’t strike Jess as a charming child. Nor, at this particular moment, was she a happy one. She stood in Jess’s living room, surveying the furniture with the look of an unimpressed customer. Her lower lip was pushed forward, and her arms were crossed over her chest. She glared up at her father.

He appeared not to notice. Or at least he pretended he didn’t. Jess could see a certain tension in Lars Toleffson’s jaw. His fine, squarish jaw.

“Daisy, this is Mrs. Carroll. You’ll be staying with her and her son Jack today.” Toleffson’s voice was firm, but not too cheery. He probably knew what was coming.

“No,” Daisy snapped. Her lower lip jutted forward even further.

Jess tried a smile in Daisy’s direction and was rewarded with a fierce scowl. “Have you had breakfast, Daisy? Want some oatmeal with Jack?”

“No! Want Mrs. M.!” Daisy looked up her father again, her eyes suddenly pooling with picturesque tears.

Jess had to hand it to her—being able to cry on cue was a very neat trick. Clearly the kid was an infant Meryl Streep.

And clearly her father wasn’t immune, even though he had to know his daughter’s tears weren’t exactly genuine. He knelt down to eye level with her. “Daisy, we’ve talked about this. Mrs. Melendez is moving away from Konigsburg. You can’t stay with her anymore.”

“Want Mrs. M.!” Daisy’s voice rose a couple of decibels.

In his high chair, Jack stared at her, his forehead creasing.

“Want her
now
!” Daisy’s lower lip was trembling. She appeared to be on the verge of a spectacular meltdown.

Jack began to whimper, staring up at Jess in distress. She wasn’t sure if it was Daisy’s noise or her unhappiness that was getting to him. Given his tendency to sympathize with everybody in range, she’d guess the latter. She reached down quickly, moving his bowl of oatmeal to the dining room table and picking him up out of the chair before he could let loose with anything worse. The last thing they needed was two screaming children.

When she turned back, Daisy was staring at Jack, her mouth open in mid-wail.

Jack looked down and smiled, his own mouth spreading in one of his joyful grins as he reached toward Daisy’s hair. Like her father’s, Daisy’s curls spilled around her face in a corona. Jack’s fingers fastened on one dark spiral, and he giggled.

Daisy leaped back, her expression changing from misery to outrage. “He pulled!” she sputtered.

“Sorry. He likes hair.” Jess shifted Jack onto her other shoulder so that he was a little out of range. “I’m sure he likes yours a lot because it’s so pretty.”

Daisy stood transfixed, her hand on the curl that Jack had touched, her eyes wide. “Pretty?”

“Very.” Jess managed to keep her voice matter-of-fact. “It’s so curly and dark and soft. He’s probably never seen anything like it before.”

“Pretty.” Daisy stroked her hair again, thoughtfully. Jess had a feeling she was experiencing a paradigm shift.

Lars Toleffson cleared his throat. “Yes. Well, I’ll take off. See you this evening, Dais.” He stepped through the door quickly, closing it behind him. His daughter seemed barely aware of his absence. Smart man.

“Pretty,” Daisy repeated once more, and her lips spread in what would someday be a killer smile.

Jess sighed. “Welcome to the sisterhood, kid.”

All morning long Lars waited for the phone to ring with Jessamyn Carroll telling him to come get his daughter.

It wasn’t that Daisy was stubborn, exactly. He sighed. Who was he kidding? Daisy was the most stubborn kid he’d ever met. Daisy made Genghis Khan look reasonable.

It was a trait she’d inherited from her mother. Yet another thing for him to worry about. Considering that Sherice had only been around Daisy for her first year, Lars really hoped she hadn’t had a chance to imprint much of her character on their daughter, but every once in a while he saw Sherice in something Daisy did.

Like this morning when his daughter suddenly began to look like an infant femme fatale. Lars shuddered. He really didn’t want to think about what it would be like when Daisy hit high school and boys started coming around the house. He’d probably have to put up razor wire or something.

When his office phone finally rang, he picked it up without looking to see who was calling, figuring it was probably the Jessamyn Carroll call he’d been dreading all morning. “Lars Toleffson,” he barked.

“If you talk to all your customers like that, no wonder you aren’t making any money,” his ex-wife purred on the other end of the line.

Lars gritted his teeth. He’d been avoiding Sherice’s calls for a couple of days, figuring anything she wanted to talk about could be handled by his lawyer with a lot less pain. “What do you want, Sherice?”

“Did you see the final price on the house? It’s about fifty grand less than you said it would be.”

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Read the papers lately, Sherice? The market sucks all across the country right now. Your lawyer cleared the deal. It was the best offer we could get.”

“It still leaves me with a lot less money than I was supposed to have.”

Sherice’s voice had a slightly metallic edge. He wondered if she’d always sounded like that—had he just been too overcome with lust to notice until now? He had a sudden memory of Sherice in a bikini, shimmering blonde hair above improbable breasts. Lust had a way of making you brain dead. It sure as hell had with him.

With an effort, he kept his voice level. “By the terms of the settlement you got a percentage of the sale price, not a fixed amount. Nobody promised you a particular payoff.”

“Whatever happened to ‘Just take it all and give me Daisy’, Lars? Our deal was that I got the assets and you got the kid.” Sherice didn’t bother with sounding amused anymore. Her voice could freeze boiling oil.

“You did get the assets,” he snapped. “Most of them. I got enough to set up a business so that I could support Daisy. I’m not renegotiating, Sherice. I need everything I’ve got to keep us going down here.”

“I could always go back to court,” she mused. “Judges like for kids to be with their mothers. Are you ready to give up custody, Lars?”

He eased the phone into his other hand, flexing the fingers that had been holding it in a death grip. “Yeah, and I could request you pay child support. Before you start figuring out how big your pay-out would be, consider what you might lose too.”

“I won’t lose, Lars.” Her voice dropped an octave. “I don’t lose. You keep that in mind.”

He sat staring at the receiver in his hand, hearing the click of Sherice’s disconnect. His shoulders were clenched so tightly his neck felt stiff. His stomach was roiling with acid. This was what happened when you let your brain fog over with testosterone. When you let your dick rule your life. The ex-wife from South Hell.

And Daisy. Lars blew out a breath.
Never forget Daisy
. No matter what else Sherice had done, she’d managed to produce his daughter. And now he had to protect her from her mother.

So be it. If he had to go to South Hell to hang onto Daisy, he’d do it. With bells on.

The first crisis came at mid-morning. Daisy didn’t like animal crackers. She wanted Cheerios, like Jack. Jack wanted animal crackers, like Daisy. Jess gave them a selection of each, then watched as Daisy surreptitiously relieved Jack of his Cheerios, while pushing a load of animal crackers his way. Well, at least she wasn’t exactly taking candy from a baby—cereal probably didn’t count.

The second crisis came when Jess wanted to get some work done on the computer. Daisy didn’t want to color. She didn’t want to play with blocks. On the other hand, she had a major interest in Jack’s collection of stuffed animals, particularly Mr. Wiggles. Jess held her breath, but Jack, hopelessly in love with Daisy, let her arrange the animals in a heap in front of him. Daisy proceeded to make up an elaborate narrative that featured a series of highly improbable adventures for Mr. Wiggles and his close personal friend the lavender bear, a.k.a. Spiderman.

Jess found three bugs in the Web app she was putting together for Synchronicity. Fortunately, it wasn’t due for another week. She wondered idly what would happen if she turned Daisy loose on the video games front. Maybe they could convert Mr. Wiggles into an action hero. Lord knew, Daisy was active enough for both of them.

At lunch, Daisy studied the chicken with rice soup suspiciously. “Is this fish?”

“Nope.” Jess shoveled a quick spoonful of minced turkey into Jack’s mouth. “It’s chicken. So help me.”

“I don’t like fish.” Daisy’s lower lip jutted out again.

“You objection is noted. But that’s not fish, it’s chicken.”

“Mrs. M. gives me tuna.” Daisy looked doleful. “I don’t like tuna.”

“No tuna here. It’s chicken.” Jess was beginning to feel slightly desperate. “Maybe you can’t handle that spoon by yourself. Would you like me to help you?”

“I can do it myself!” Daisy gave her an outraged look, then jammed a spoonful of soup in her mouth. After a moment’s pause to evaluate it, she swallowed and dipped her spoon again.

Jess grabbed a bite of her own soup, then gave Jack another spoonful of his turkey.

“I’m gonna marry Jack,” Daisy announced.

Jess raised an eyebrow at her as she managed another bite of soup. “Are you?”

Daisy nodded. “When I’m five. He’s too little now.”

“Yes.” Jess wiped Jack’s mouth quickly. “Very high maintenance.”

Daisy’s brow furrowed. “What’s high main’nance?”

“A lot of work,” Jess explained. “He can’t take care of himself very well yet.”

“I take care of myself.”

“Yes,” Jess agreed quickly. “You’re a big girl. He’s a baby.”

Daisy shrugged. “He’ll be old when I’m five.”

Jess felt a sudden twinge.
Don’t grow up Jack, not yet, not yet.
“He’ll be older, anyway.”

The next crisis came after lunch, but Jess was ready for this one.

“I don’t take naps,” Daisy snapped, pushing her lower lip forward again. “I’m too big.”

Jess shook her head. “That’s too bad. I was going to give you the bower. I guess I’ll have to give it to Jack instead.”

Daisy narrowed her eyes. “What’s a bow-wow?”

Jess pointed toward the window alcove she’d equipped with a stack of lace-covered pillows and a woven throw from the guest cabin. “Over there. It even has a drawbridge you can pull up.” The baby fence she used to keep Jack away from the window leaned against the wall next to the pillows.

Daisy stared at the alcove, blinking, then turned back to Jess. “I’ll try. Can I take those?” She pointed at the stack of Jack’s picture books.

Jess nodded. “Sure. But I need to get Jack ready for his nap. It would go faster if I had some help. Do you think you’d be able to do that?”

Daisy’s eyes narrowed in disdain. “Course I can. He’s a baby.”

“Yes, he is,” Jess agreed, settling into the rocking chair in Jack’s room. “Why don’t you pick out a book for us to read while I give him the rest of his lunch?” She pushed her T-shirt up and began unfastening the nursing bra.

Daisy stared at her wide-eyed.

Well, crap.
“I’m going to nurse Jack, Daisy. Do you know what that means?”

Daisy shook her head, totally silent for the first time all day.

“It means he’s still getting part of his food from me. That’s what mothers do for babies until they’re older.” She angled Jack’s head into the crook of her elbow as he fastened enthusiastically onto her nipple.

Daisy was still staring. “Did my mama do that for me?”

“Probably,” Jess hedged. “It’s good for babies. Did you find a book?”

Daisy nodded, handing Jess a large picture book she’d pulled from the stack.

“Okay.” Jess extended the arm not holding Jack and helped Daisy clamber into her lap. “You’ll need to turn the pages, but you can do that, can’t you?”

“I can do that.” Daisy nodded. “I’m a big girl. And Jack’s a baby.”

“I know.” Jess sighed. “Believe me, I know.”

The call came in late afternoon. Lydia was unsurprised. Roy Westerman was a weasel, but he was
her
weasel. She knew he’d find someone, particularly since he’d have a commission on whatever his contractor was paid.

She clicked the connect button on the cell phone she’d purchased just for this particular caller, then flicked the lock on her office door. It wouldn’t do to have someone wander in during this call. Particularly Preston. “Yes?”

“Mrs. Moreland?”

The voice sounded oddly distorted. It took her a moment to realize the contractor was using some voice-disguising device. She was momentarily annoyed but decided to ignore it. “This is Lydia Moreland. To whom am I speaking?”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. The thin, metallic voice sounded faintly amused. “If you need a name, you can call me Smith. Or Jones. Or anything else you choose. Any name I gave you would be a convenience, nothing more, Mrs. Moreland.”

Lydia’s jaw tightened. “Very well,
Smythe
. I assume you’ve spoken with Roy Westerman.”

“I have. I’ve also studied the documents he sent me—the results of your lawyer’s ‘search’.” Smythe’s tone was definitely contemptuous.

“Inadequate, I know.” Lydia settled into the leather chair behind her desk. “That’s why I asked Westerman to find someone like you.”

“Yes,” Smythe murmured. “Keeping things legal does tend to slow a search down. Particularly when the searchee doesn’t want to be found.”

Once again there was a touch of amusement in the odd electronic voice that Lydia found annoying. “Then I assume you can find her more quickly.”

“Certainly,” he purred. “Provided I’m adequately paid for it. The question is, what do you want me to do once I’ve found her?”

“Do?” She frowned. Was he really that dense? “Notify me, of course.”

“Really? And what will you do after that?” Again the note of amusement, mixed this time with a hint of sarcasm.

“That is none of your concern,” she snapped.

“Perhaps not. On the other hand, you might want to think about what you want to do once you’ve located your daughter-in-law. I’d hate to see my efforts go for nothing.” He sounded bored now.