Blame it on Cupid (28 page)

Like the secret Coop had told Merry and failed to tell his own father, Jack wanted to say, but didn't. Some kids could be pushed to talk. Cooper wasn't one of them, but knowing that Coop had spilled a serious problem to Merry worried the hell out of him. He had to try something besides just waiting him out and giving him the opportunity to talk. So he said, “I was thinking…since your mom's going to be gone a while longer, and while I still have you guys at my place, maybe we could hit Best Buy. My laptop's almost three years old now, so I'm thinking I should know what's out there now. And I'd like your advice on a new TV.”

Cooper straightened up. “We could skip school and go right now.”

“No, not now.” But Jack had to grin. When the twins were first born, he'd bought every parenting book under the sun. Those had all gone in the trash. Bribery was the only thing that always worked. One of the toughest parenting problems since the divorce had been getting the boys one-on-one. He always had them together, but a circumstance like now, when he wanted personal time with just Cooper, it was hard to manipulate—even with bribery.

Worrying about Cooper only temporarily distracted him from fretting about Merry. Once his sons disappeared into the school, he drove to work with Merry zooming straight back into his mind and sticking there. It didn't help that he knew he had to talk to her as immediately as possible. Last night, she'd fallen into such a deep sleep that he hadn't wanted to waken her. There also seemed no point, since there was nothing she could do about Charlene in the middle of the night, anyway.

But it was morning now. And she needed to know about the woman who'd called Charlene. Jack had no idea if the woman was really Charlene's mother or not—how could anyone know? But the point was that Merry should know about that call before the stranger could try to contact Charlene again.

At the office, Jack key-coded in his privacy card, hit the elevator, then key-coded in the next set of security keys to the top floor. In his area, it was quiet as twilight. There were other bodies around, who could talk up a storm over lunch, but during the work hours, everyone shared a need for serious concentration and let each other alone.

He zoned straight into his office, closed the glass door, and dialed Merry.

His private space was done up in blues, the same blend of hues on the carpet, walls, chairs. Windows overlooked noisy traffic and bustling humanity below, but up here, it was soundless. His coworkers tended to dress like undertakers. Not Jack. He only put on a tie when threatened at knifepoint, but otherwise couldn't see a purpose in the formal dress bit when all he did all day was hang in the office and think.

Today, though, was hopelessly a tie day, because there was a big-deal meeting at nine, a team being assembled over a problematic new code. He kept glancing at his watch as he listened to Merry's phone ring and ring. Finally giving up, he left a message on her voice mail with his office number.

Still, he couldn't settle. He got coffee from the back room, shuffled through his mail, booted up his e-mail, and then dialed Merry again.

Still no answer. He left a second message, saying he wouldn't bug her again, knowing she was out, but that he'd be reachable at the office all day. He couldn't risk saying more than that. Who knew if Charlene would get the voice mail messages before Merry? But he couldn't get the problem off his mind. Not just the problem of Charlene's mystery phone call, but the problem of Merry.
His
problem.

Unfortunately, it was nine o'clock by then, and he had to join the team. They'd already started assembling in the old mahogany conference room. The group knew the drill. Laptops, paper, pencils, mugs in place. Shoes heeled off under the table. Everybody got their butts nestled in.

This was a door-locked kind of problem, extra-high security. The whole group of eleven were rarely put together for a single project, because that was too many in the know, but for this particular crisis, they needed all the mind power they could get. Even after all these years, Jack still fired up for the work, the chance to solve what others considered completely unsolvable problems. After all these years, Jack still loved it.

But at nine-forty-five, Mitch—the group's administrative assistant—signaled Jack from the doorway. “You've got a call. I wouldn't normally interrupt, but I got the feeling you might want to take it.”

Jack left the table, feeling pulled by sharp teeth. They were seriously right in the middle of a productive analysis.

He picked up the closest phone to the conference room and dialed his number code.

“Am I bothering you?”

He thought wryly, just because she was interrupting a meeting involving national security? But to hell with that. Merry definitely didn't have to identify herself. That voice of hers wrapped around his senses like a velvet rubber band. And yeah, he heard her concern. In fact, she gushed on.

“I didn't want to call you at work and interrupt, Jack. But I had the impression that whatever Charlie told you was pretty serious. I thought that was why you must have called—”

It was. The problem with Charlie was serious enough for him to climb in her window last night.

Not in her bed, though. He'd climbed in her bed totally for him.

And because he realized how true that was, it especially bugged him—that Merry just assumed he'd call about the child. Not about
her.
Not about
them.

For a moment he felt a gut stab. He just wasn't used to Merry provoking any memories of his ex-wife—but everything had been more important to her than he was. He never seemed to register on her importance map except as a convenience.

Of course, from the beginning he'd been telling himself that was how he wanted it with Merry. They were so far from a natural pair that it made his head spin. He didn't mind being a convenience for her. He didn't want her thinking he cared too much.

So that annoying little sting could just go to hell and stay there.

“Yeah,” he said. “The only reason I called was about Charlene.”

T
HE MINUTE
M
ERRY HAD WALKED
in the kitchen, she saw the light on the answering machine and caught Jack's message. She was still pulling off her jacket when she dialed his office.

“Tell me what Charlene said,” she urged him now.

“Apparently she got a phone call—on your land line over there. I don't know exactly when—early last evening? You were home, but she happened to reach the phone first. She didn't recognize the voice—”

“Oh, God. I've been getting a number of hang-ups lately. I didn't think that much of it, but if this was some crank call or porn or something, I'll—”

“No, Mer. Not like that.” From the sound, Jack shifted the phone to his other ear. “Although it's interesting you've been getting other hang-up calls. Maybe this person was just waiting for Charlene to pick up the phone instead of you.”

“Okay. You're scaring me good now.” Merry sank against the kitchen counter and pressed a hand against her roiling stomach.

“That's why I wouldn't keep this a secret. Because I'm not sure if you should be scared or not—but the caller identified herself to Charlene as her mother.”

“What?”

“I can't remember Charlene's exact words. But the caller was a woman, claiming to be her mother. Claiming that ‘you'—or whatever woman was living in the house with Charlene—shouldn't be there.”

“Oh God. Oh God. I've been worried about this right from the start….” But abruptly Merry put aside her own feelings. She didn't matter in this equation. “How did Charlene react, Jack? She was upset enough to go tell you about this. But was she afraid, excited, happy, worried, what?”

“Well…hell, I don't know. I guess I'd say she was just shaken up. But to tell the truth, she seemed more shaken at the idea of your finding out about this woman than about her mother actually showing up. Because she talked about you. Not the woman.”

Merry frowned. “That doesn't make sense.”

“She's a girl. She's eleven. Personally, I think they all need to come with interpreters.”

She wanted to chuckle, and for a minute, did smile. He was at work; she didn't want to keep him on the line. But just hearing this from him—because it was him, Jack—made digesting any traumatic news easier. It was like knowing she had a bulldozer behind her if a shovel didn't work.

Still, she couldn't smile for long. “Thanks for telling me. This is too serious to sit on.”

“I thought it was, too. And I don't know what you want to do, Merry. If you talk directly to Charlene about this, she'll know I broke her confidence. Which is all right, for something this serious, of course, but—”

“I understand. I'll think about how to handle that. I wish she'd told me, but I'm relieved she
did
tell you, that the trust in you is there. I don't want to mess with that if I don't have to.” Her mind was whirling at a hundred miles an hour. “I think my first move should be to contact the lawyer.”

“Yeah. Completely agree.”

She heard voices in the background, someone calling for Jack. She said, “I know you have to go—and again, just sorry I had to interrupt your work day—”

“It's okay. And we'll talk later. Let me know if there's something I can do, love—”

That was it. The connection severed. She thought he'd slipped in that
love
word by accident, the same way a man slipped in an “I love you” under the sheets. It was the kind of context where a woman had to be either naïve or nuts to take it too seriously.

Yet the four letter word wrapped around her like a silk pashmina, not heavy, not hot, just protectively warm and heart-soothing. Maybe Jack did use the
L
word lightly. Or only under stress, unconsciously. But he'd still used it.

And she still felt the emotion of it when they were together. This was nothing like a child's love, or a crush, a teenager-love where every second of the day was smothered by thoughts for the other person. But something different. Something where…she was still living her own life, still struggling with her own problems and choices. But she felt stronger because of him. Her life felt wider. Richer. Safer. More interesting. More wonderful.

It was the kind of love that didn't choke. But freed instead.

Who even knew that was possible?

But this was no time to dwell. After hanging up from Jack, she immediately dialed Lee Oxford's number. The receptionist gave out her typical, “He's far too busy today, Ms. Olson. There's no chance he can fit anything else into his schedule.”

Merry said, “I need to talk to him. I don't have to come see him, but I need to speak with him.”

“I can't guarantee—”

Merry understood the woman didn't care for her, but today, she just had no time for petty nonsense. She said, “Get him.”

Naturally, she immediately suffered pounds of guilt for being so bitchy. But she did—get him. Lee clicked on the receiver within a few seconds, and maybe the receptionist hadn't been downright mean, he sounded delighted to hear from her.

“How's our gorgeous guardian doing?”

“I have a problem, Lee.”

“That's what I'm here for, sweetie. Let 'er rip.”

So Merry let it out. That Charlene's mother may have called. That there'd been other calls, hang-ups. That she needed to know, immediately, what her rights were. And Charlene's. If she could stop the woman from seeing Charlene. If she even should. If the caller really was Charlene's mother, could she just show up and legally claim her daughter….

“Let's catch a breath here, honey. No point in you having a heart attack. That's what you've got an expensive lawyer for. You pay me a lot of money so I have your heart attacks. That's how our relationship works.”

He was cute. Mercenary, but cute. Only right now, Merry couldn't seem to appreciate cuteness. “What do I do if she shows up? What do I do if she—”

First off, Lee informed her, the woman would have to prove she was Charlene's mother before there'd be any kind of visitation. Someone knocking on the door was hardly proof.

Second of all, if the caller turned out to be the mother, she'd lost custody rights years ago. Because her ex-husband died didn't give her those custody rights back—although she did have a right to ask for a hearing. “She could put her case in front of a judge. That she's a changed woman. Not into drugs or whatever. That she wants to see her daughter, all that.”

Without thinking, Merry sank to the floor like a whipped puppy. “So if she proves she's leading a decent life, she'll obviously get the right to see Charlene.”

“Yes. But I'd say that's a big
if.
Further, if she's only in it for the money, she's got a big surprise—because I don't care if Superman himself showed up to claim Charlene right now, there's still a trust controlling all funds for the kid. Nobody's just going to get their hands on that money and be able to take off.”

“I hear you, Lee. But darn it. I don't care about the money. And maybe she doesn't even know about it—”

“Merry, honey, trust me. She'd know about it. Again, that's why lawyers like me do so well, because there are Pollyannas in life who need us. That's you, if you didn't recognize yourself. A hard-core Pollyanna. And just for the record, even if she did go for a hearing, did win it, it wouldn't take away your guardianship even if she was initially given visitation rights.”

“Initially?”

“Hey…you've gotten totally into the kid, haven't you?”

Merry didn't need him to say it. “I love her to bits. I couldn't love her more if she were my own. I don't know how mutual that is, we're sure different as day and night. But I can't think of anything I wouldn't do for her. She's so special. So bright, so unique, so full of character and ideas and she has this funny, quirky sense of humor, and—”

“Okay. We don't have to get too sentimental here. I was just…surprised. I've watched this developing, in the beginning, well, I know how good the money is. I just didn't really think you'd fall so deep into the mom thing.”

“Lee—” She pulled an ear. The same ear she always pulled when she was nervous and frustrated.

“Look. This broad doesn't sound like good news, if she's calling the kid out of the blue, no preparation, no going through channels, no thinking how the kid is going to respond. So I wouldn't waste time worrying you're going to lose her.”

She was. Going to waste time.

“I won't lie. If she looks reasonable on paper, in person, the judge'll allow visitation.”

“And that would only be right,” Merry said hollowly. “Charlene needs to see her mother. Needs to know her. I would never stand in her way. It's just…”

“Yeah. I know all about those ‘it's justs.' But for right now, this is the deal. If she calls again, you give her my telephone number. If she's serious about seeing Charlene, she'll have to work through me—or through her own lawyer, to get to court. But if she shows up at the house, just close the door and call me.”

“I can do that? Even if she shows me proof she's Charlene's mother?”

“Absolutely. Until we know this woman's on the up-and-up—which sure sounds doubtful to me—I'd protect the child. Keep them separate. The law would back you up, so don't worry about that. The law would see this as a matter of protecting the child.”

“That's how I felt. But I wasn't sure if the law would see it that way.” Merry felt a ton of relief. “I should probably tell the school authorities that this happened. So if this woman tried to get to Charlene through a call at the school, they'd have a reason to be extra watchful.”

“Good. In fact, hell. I should have thought to tell you that first. In the meantime, you need any money?”

Cripes, he was always trying to give away Charlie's money, Merry thought wryly. Truthfully, she still hadn't figured out all the finances yet. It was still a steep learning curve for her, figuring out what it took to live in the house, expense and maintenance wise. But she had a ton of money coming in from the trust every month, she knew that.

Right now, she couldn't care less. To a point, talking to Lee this time had been reassuring. But the real crisis wasn't just about legal rights if the mother returned.

It was handling Charlene.

Charlene—who thought she knew nothing about the mother's call. Charlene, who hadn't felt she could confide in her. Charlene, who couldn't very well be protected or counseled or loved about this, if they couldn't openly talk about it.

The problem took major heart-searching. All the projects she'd planned for the day went by the wayside, but she had her head back together by the time she picked Charlene up from school. When they got back in the house, she asked casually, “Do you have a ton of homework?”

Charlene's response was as predictable as snow in Minnesota. “Huge. And the English assignment is straight torture. Two whole pages I have to write. She had a real edge on in class. And even besides that, she likes to make us suffer.”

Thankfully Merry had heard some of this before—if not the exact lyrics, then the same basic refrain, so she didn't immediately fly into a frenzy of help the way she had that first week. Besides, she knew the English teacher now. So she just asked the rest of the relevant questions. “Any math homework? Science?”

“Well, yeah. A little math. But that's not really work. He gave us a problem to see if we could figure it out. It's more like fun than work.” After that came more rants on the torture-loving English teacher, who'd never had a fair bone in her body, who probably sat up nights thinking of new ways to torture her students, who was only happy when kids were suffering, etc etc.

When Merry could sneak in a word, she said, “Well, if you can get the work done by dinner, I thought we'd go shopping afterward.”

“Weren't you
listening
to me? I'll never get it all done before midnight. It's impossible.”

“Oh, darn. Because I wasn't thinking mall shopping.” A lie if ever there was one. She was so hungry for a mall hit she could hardly think. But parenting sometimes required lies, Merry was discovering. “I was just wondering if maybe you'd like to go to Best Buy.”

“Best Buy? I'll be done with my homework in an hour.” Charlie added swiftly, “Of course, I'll have to practically kill myself. But I'm starting right now.”

She was done with her homework an hour before dinner, but then Merry couldn't leave that fast. Her dad called. Then her oldest sister. Then a woman from school who was trying to corral field-trip chaperones. Then the newspaper, wanting to know if she wanted to rerun the ad to sell Charlie's car. Then some lawn-care company, who wanted to know if the Rosses wanted to renew their contract for lawn-care service for the coming summer.