Operation: Normal (3 page)

Suddenly I could barely breathe.

What had I done?

With a huge groan, I flipped onto my back and stared at the ceiling. Mom would kill me
when she found out. And she would find out. She always did. As for Seth, he probably would
too, if given an opportunity.

Did I blame Mom for getting involved with him? Not really, I decided. How could I,
when I might've done the same thing, given a totally different set of circumstances? He had
every quality on my list of irresistible traits in a guy, after all, plus a few not on it. At least I
thought he did.

To be sure, I retrieved my diary, unlocked it, and found the list in question, "My Perfect
Guy": (1) blue eyes, (2) longish brown hair, (3) tall, (4) lean, (5) muscled, 6) funny, and (7)
nice.

Well, five out of seven wasn't bad, I thought. In fact, it was closer than any other male
I'd ever met. Not that I really had or even wanted a chance with Seth. It just seemed odd that he
was so right. On paper, anyway.

But how right could a guy be if he'd never have sex with me and sold his children?

The nanny selected by Care Au Pair, the agency Mom always used when she left town,
showed up early Monday morning, as expected. The minute I opened the door, Kayly on my hip,
I knew Mom had made a big mistake trusting the agency to send someone of their choosing.
Never mind that she'd had to leave the country earlier than expected. She should've made
time.

Because this girl was not someone my mother or even I would've hired. For one thing,
she looked a little young, as in late twenties, when Mom prefers someone more mature. For
another, she was a smoker. I could always tell. The leathery skin, the dry cough, the husky
voice? All clues.

She introduced herself as Sylvie Sorrenson and showed me her identification plus the
usual letter of introduction from the agency. I let her in, surreptitiously sniffing her short brown
hair as she swept by me. I couldn't smell smoke, exactly, but recognized the scent of Febreze.
That came off as deceitful and totally annoyed me. The agency knew how we felt about smokers.
Why had they sent us one?

"Please sit down," I said, indicating one of the bar stools.

She put her black leather purse on the counter, her suitcase on the floor and sat, her gaze
going all over the place. "Nice apartment."

"Thanks," I answered. Though Kayly clung to me, I freed myself and put her in the
playpen, handing over a bowl and a spoon to keep her amused while I interviewed the nanny.
Because that's what I intended to do. "Would you like something to drink, Sylvie?"

She nodded. I walked to the fridge, opened it and gave her choices. She picked bottled
water. While she twisted off the top, I ran to my room and retrieved my red diary, using the key
suspended from a long silver chain around my neck to open it.

Sylvie still sat at the bar when I got back to the kitchen, watching Kayly bang her
spoons on her bowl. If early signs could be trusted, my sister was going to be a drummer
someday. I figured in an all-girl heavy metal band. Half her genes were Mom's, after all.

Forcing a smile, I sat by Sylvie.

"I just have a few questions to ask," I said, turning pages until I came to my list of
characteristics of a perfect babysitter. If Sylvie thought it odd that I referred to a red leather
diary, she didn't let on. "How old are you?"

She hesitated. "Twenty-six."

"And you've been a nanny how long?"

Her gaze narrowed. "Five years."

"How many other children have you kept during that time?"

"I don't know. A lot. Um...are you interviewing me?"

"Yes," I said.

Her pale blue eyes widened. "But the agency told me I already had the job."

"Really?" I acted all surprised. "We always interview several nannies before we make a
decision."

Her cheeks grew a little pink at that point, and I could tell I'd upset her. "Janet Adams,
the manager, specifically told me that since your mom had to leave sooner than expected for
Europe, an interview would not be necessary."

"And it wouldn't have been," I answered in my most grown-up voice, "if you weren't a
smoker. Since you are, I'm now doubting that the agency even knows what we want."

"Is that what's bothering you? Don't worry. I quit smoking years ago."

"How many years?"

"Eight. It was a stupid habit I started in high school. Once I realized the risks, I stopped,
of course."

Of course. It was so easy to do. "Smoking is not allowed around Kayly or in this
apartment."

"Not a problem," said Sylvie through a tight smile, "Since I don't do that anymore."

"Can you please excuse me for a second?" I asked, slipping off the bar stool, scooping
up my cell phone, and heading to Mom's room for privacy. Since I didn't have the yellow pages
with me and didn't want Sylvie to know what I was doing, I had to resort to digging in Mom's
file cabinet, tucked in the corner of her walk-in closet, to find a piece of paper with the Care Au
Pair number on it. As expected, I found one in the folder labeled "Nannies."

I punched in the agency's number. When the secretary answered, I explained the
situation. She quickly assured me that Sylvie did not smoke anymore and then listed the woman's
references, all of which had been checked out. To her credit, she treated me like an adult, never
questioning my right to call. That, as much as anything, resulted in my agreeing to accept Sylvie
on a trial basis.

Guessing that Kayly's temporary nanny must be missing me by now, I hurried back to
the den, where I found Sylvie on her knees next to the playpen, talking to my little sis.

Kayly laughed and babbled, sweet sounds that always made me smile. That decided me,
I guess. If Kayly liked Sylvie, then I'd give the girl a chance. Kids and dogs were usually pretty
perceptive, or so I'd always heard.

"Sorry about that," I said. Sylvie got up and joined me. She looked a little anxious, and
who could blame her? "Thanks for coming out today. I apologize if I came on a little strong. I
just want the best for my sister."

"Of course you do," Sylvie said, obviously relieved.

"You'll be sleeping in my mom's room with the baby. She emptied the coat closet in the
hall for you. I hope that will be okay."

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Oh, and thanks."

"No problem," I said, hoping I spoke the truth.

I admit I stuck around the apartment all day and watched her closely. But she was great
with my sister and even made lunch for me, which was not really a requirement of the job. Of
course, it was only tomato soup, but I appreciated the gesture and started to feel a little better
about her. We even talked for a while about Mom's current assignment and Sylvie's current
boyfriend.

By the time Minka and Heath got to the house around six that night, I felt pretty
comfortable with the whole situation. I didn't mention the phone call from my dad for some
reason, and I didn't talk about Seth. I did fix hamburgers for everyone over nine months old and
tried out the baby meat I'd bought for Kayly, who seemed to like it okay, even though it smelled
a little funky.

Since we had about fifteen minutes before Buffy started, I channel surfed, pausing when
I got to MTV and saw the music news was on. Not sixty seconds into the broadcast, they
switched to a scene of total chaos involving angry mobs, policemen, and, you guessed it, Blak
Magyk, as they arrived at their scheduled venue in London earlier today.

"Holy shit!" Heath exclaimed, an oath that earned him a slap on the back of the head
from Minka. "Ow!" He glared at her. "It's not like Ally can't see this for herself."

"Have you spotted Mom?" I ignored their bickering and reached for the remote to turn
up the volume.

"No."

"There she is!" Heath exclaimed even as I zoned in on her, myself. Horrified, I watched
the surging crowd jostle my parent, who was trying to film the whole thing.

The news commentator said, "This was the scene earlier today in London when Blak
Magyk arrived for their first show. I was able to speak with Rosanna Dawson, lead singer, who
assured me this was no worse than expected, the reason they've hired extra bodyguards for this
particular tour."

Oh, yeah? Where are they?

"Ms. Dawson also said that band members receive frequent death threats and consider
them proof of a job well done. The controversial group will be touring in the UK for three
weeks."

I'd heard enough, so I switched to the Sci Fi channel, even though Buffy wouldn't be on
for another ten minutes. Looking up, I found Heath, Minka, and Sylvie all watching me
intently.

"What?" I demanded irritably.

"I-- It's just...er, nothing," Heath said, flushing.

"I'm sure she'll be okay," said Minka scooting closer and putting an arm around me.
"They've got extra security, after all."

I wouldn't even look at her.

"That's right," Heath belatedly blurted. "And the London police are super. Best in the
world, probably."

Was that supposed to make me feel better? It didn't. If anything, I felt worse. But it
wasn't my friends' fault. "It sounds like the band knew this would happen, doesn't it?"

"Yes, and they're obviously prepared," Minka said.

So why hadn't my mother said something? I couldn't believe she hadn't understood the
risks. Mom made it her business to stay in the know. So was she trying to protect me? I suddenly
realized her motives didn't matter. She'd as good as lied, and I felt betrayed.

Sylvie took Kayly to Mom's room so they could play while my friends and I watched
our show in peace. Even seeing Buffy kick vampire butt didn't lift my mood, and by the time
Heath and Minka left around nine, I was way upset with my mother.

I went straight to my room, shut the door and retrieved the file I'd always known existed,
but only found the day before in Mom's cabinet. The one with mine and Kayly's birth stuff in it.
The one she'd labeled
Insurance Policies
.

Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I pulled out the papers and began to go through them
again. I barely glanced at Kayly's birth certificate with Z. Seth Thomas typed in the father blank.
That piece of the puzzle had been solved. I didn't linger on mine, either, since I already knew
there wasn't any helpful information on it.

I did pick up the contract I'd shown Seth last night and reread it for the zillionth time
from beginning to end, no easy feat, thanks to the legal jargon. I cringed as I always did when I
got to the part about Mom paying him twenty-thousand dollars. Once again, I tried to come up
with a scenario in which Mom would pay out that kind of money to Kayly's father. Because
twenty-thousand dollars was a lot, even though she had a knack for investing well, and we had
some CDs and stuff.

It wasn't like Seth had medical expenses or anything. She had those, right? So why
would Mom pay Kayly's dad one cent? I'd thought about it long and hard all day yesterday and
still couldn't guess unless she'd...oh my God...purchased his paternal rights.

I wanted to hurl.

Was that even legal?

But of course it was. It had to be. Lawyers had obviously drawn up that stupid contract
that had to be Mom's idea and should've, in my opinion, spelled out exactly what services were
rendered--as in a list--or at least used words normal people could understand. Shaken, I began
rifling haphazardly through the papers I hadn't looked at yet, hoping for something to let my
mom off the hook.

The first thing I picked up was a receipt that proved Seth Thomas had actually received
the money. The second was a handwritten note dated after the receipt that said:
Kat--Got the
money, but you know it's not what I really want. Call me. We could make it work.
It was
signed Seth.

I gasped. So at one time he'd actually wanted a relationship with his daughter. I could've
kicked myself for not reading that earlier.

But wait... If he'd really wanted to know Kayly, then why had he acted so surprised last
night when I showed him the contract?

Thoroughly confused, I got out of bed and began to pace the room. Why had Seth
agreed to give up his daughter? Had Mom's bribe done the trick? Was he that desperate for
cash?

I wondered how Mom had met him and tried to remember if she'd done any work at the
university. I couldn't recall any, but then, I didn't always know all the details of her projects.
Maybe Seth modeled for her. He could, I thought. He had the looks.

Yeah, that had to be it. He was a model on one of her shoots. She knew he needed cash
for college tuition. She bribed him into donating sperm.

Likely? Um...no. First of all, if a donation was all she needed, there were impersonal
sperm banks to take care of that. Second, would she really pass up a chance to have sex with the
likes of Seth Thomas? I thought not. I mean, she was liberated, not dead. And hooking up with a
younger man sounded like something a rebel like Mom might do.

But the thought of my mother and Seth in bed together was just too disturbing. Not that I
was a prude. I mean, I knew that my mother had sex at least twice, right? With a shake of my
head to clear it, I thought about someone else--my dad.

How had she gotten rid of him, I now wondered. There weren't any other contracts in the
file, and I didn't think my dad needed money, anyway. The monthly cash transfers into my bank
account told me he had plenty. No. He'd obviously given me up for some other reason.

Deliberately refusing to go there--I'd survived without him for seventeen years, after
all--I focused on Seth, the more urgently needed dad. I tried to devise scenarios in which Kayly's
father would have no choice but to accept Mom's heartless bribe. I finally settled on the college
tuition theory. I mean, that had to be it, right?

I thought back to Mom's thirty-seventh birthday, when she first told me she'd decided to
have another child. Though I'd asked a million who, how, and when questions, she'd given me
exactly nothing. Kayly was born six months later, leaving me to wonder if Mom decided she
wanted a baby before or after she got pregnant.