Millionaire's Instant Baby

“I know.” Emma folded her arms over the edge of the bassinet and gently smoothed Chandler’s hair.
“How did you meet him? I thought you were totally off men after what Jeremy St. James did.” Taylor tried to sit forward to reach the cookies, but couldn’t. Emma leaned over and handed her two.
“I am not off men,” Emma defended. “I just don’t need or want one, that’s all.”
“Famous last words,” Megan quipped.
“Besides,” Emma continued, ignoring Megan’s comment, “he’s not interested in me. Well, not that way.”
“Oh, now this is sounding really interesting,” Taylor said lightly. “Come on, Emma, tell me. Then I can live vicariously on the excitement in your life.”
“I wouldn’t call it exciting to have yet another man try to buy me off.”
Both her friends’ faces sobered.
“Oh, that’s not exactly right,” Emma admitted, feeling frustration well up all over again. “He visited me yesterday morning with the most outrageous proposition.” She told them the bare bones of Kyle’s suggestion. “I told him no, of course.”
“No!” Megan stared at her, dismayed. “But Emma, think of what a man like Kyle Montgomery can offer in return for your help.”
Taylor was nodding, too.
“It doesn’t matter,” Emma insisted. “I’ll manage just fine with Chandler.”
“How?” Taylor asked bluntly. “By selling your television set next? By taking on a third job? Emma, you’re barely scraping by, and only a week ago you told me your latest fantasy was buying health insurance.”
She’d expected her friends’ support. She stood up and began pacing. Among the flowers, she fancied that the memory of Kyle’s aftershave still lingered. “He’s just another rich man thinking he can buy his way through life. I don’t want any part of it. It’s dishonest.”
Megan rose too, cradling her baby in one arm and catching Emma’s hand with her other. “Emma, I know how hard this must be for you. But Chandler is here. You have to think about him. What’s best for him. Maybe taking this offer is something you should seriously consider.”
Emma looked away from her friend’s warm hazel eyes. “You agree with her, don’t you, Taylor?”
The younger woman nodded. “That’s what a good mother does,” she murmured. “Thinks of her child first.”
Emma felt her eyes burn. Taylor had already decided to give up her child for adoption to a family who could provide for her baby in a way she herself couldn’t. She was younger than both Megan and Emma, yet Emma felt that Taylor was quite possibly the bravest woman she’d ever met.
She dashed her hands across her eyes, then propped them on her hips, sniffing hugely. “Shoot-fire,” she said in her best Southern drawl. “This afternoon wasn’t supposed to be a weepy wallow. I’ve told the man no, so that’s all there is to it. He’s probably findin’ himself another young bride as we speak.” Then she focused on Megan. “And speaking of brides, how is married life treating you, Mrs. Macgregor?”
Megan smiled and said that married life was terrific, but her gaze met Emma’s meaningfully. Fortunately, however, she didn’t return to the subject of Kyle, and soon Taylor asked Emma if the labor and delivery was really just a matter of “discomfort” as the leaders of the childbirth class kept telling them.
Emma snorted and Megan laughed. Taylor blew out a huge breath and moaned. “That’s what I was afraid of.” She struggled to her feet to go to the bathroom.
“You’re still planning to return to work next week?” Megan asked Emma.
“To Benderhoff,” Emma said. “Their summer session begins and I’ll be teaching two afternoon classes there.” She’d always enjoyed the classes she taught part-time at the private school. But she was willing to teach this session specifically for the money it would bring. Money that would eventually pay the hospital bill. “Millie says that if I set foot in the diner before two weeks are up, she’ll shoot me with that shotgun she keeps in the back. If she had her way, I’d take off three times that long.”
“What about your fall semester?” Megan asked quietly. “How can you fit in your own classes?”
Emma swallowed, then managed a bright smile she knew didn’t fool her friend. “I’m going to take off next semester. It’ll be a nice break.” She just hoped the one semester didn’t stretch into two. Or three. She’d already spent so long working toward her degree that every delay was frustrating. Even this one.
Taylor came out then, pressing her hands to her back. Emma hugged her friends, thanked them for the baby outfits they’d brought for Chandler and watched them carefully descend the steps before climbing into Megan’s vehicle.
She stood on the landing for a few minutes, breathing in the crisp clear air. Someone was barbecuing nearby. She could smell the distinctive delectable scent of sizzling steak. A dog barked, and someone was mowing a lawn.
It was a beautiful summer evening. She had her health and a perfect child. There was no reason to feel the panic welling in her chest. No reason at all.
She went inside and picked up Chandler, rocking him in her arms as she paced her small living room. She didn’t look at Kyle’s card, which she’d left on the dining table. But she was painfully aware of it sitting there between a bouquet of bright orange day-lilies and a yellow balloon that had lost some of its helium and was hovering an inch over the table.
“I love you, pumpkin. I’ll never let you down,” she pledged, pressing her lips to Chandler’s head. He wriggled and Emma chuckled. “Always hungry. Well, food is something I seem to have lots of for you.”
Kyle called at precisely seven that evening. Emma’s answer hadn’t changed, but she was grateful he hadn’t shown up in person this time. It was difficult enough reiterating her “no” over an impersonal telephone line.
He didn’t sound unduly disturbed by their brief exchange, which made Emma think even more strongly that he probably had several other women waiting as backups. Kyle Montgomery was the kind of man who had best-case scenarios and worst-case scenarios planned to the nth detail.
While Chandler slept, Emma wrote thank-you notes for the various gifts and cards she’d received, then set about looking through the pile of mail she’d been receiving and ignoring for the past week.
There was a long chatty letter from her mother. All about Emma’s sisters—married sisters, that was—Emma’s nieces and nephews, and Hattie’s job at the grocery store in Dooley. There were cards from two of her regular customers at Millie’s and a letter from Benderhoff. Emma slit it open, expecting a note about the baby or about the upcoming session.
What she wasn’t expecting was the polite missive saying that her services wouldn’t be required, after all. She didn’t even rate a thank-you for the past two years.
She read it through twice, sure she’d misunderstood. She’d been teaching at Benderhoff steadily. Her work had always been more than satisfactory, or so she’d been told at each review period. Telling herself not to panic, she went into the kitchen and yanked out her telephone directory. She found the home number of Emil Craddock, the headmaster of Benderhoff and dialed it with a shaking finger. They wouldn’t do this to her. They couldn’t.
But five minutes later she hung up again, knowing that they had. She paced. She added numbers in her head. She thought of ways she could get by without the money—the rather good money—she’d earned at Benderhoff.
She finally pulled out her sofa bed, lay down with Chandler beside her and tried to make herself sleep while he slept. But sleep didn’t come. All she could remember was growing up in Dooley, getting her clothing secondhand from the rummage sales at church, doing the grocery shopping with her two older sisters, following their mama’s list to the letter because they had to pay with food stamps and only certain things were eligible.
At four o’clock in the morning Emma finally climbed out of bed and retrieved the business card from the table. She turned on the light in the kitchen and, heedless of the hour, reached for the phone, dialing hurriedly, before she lost her nerve. It rang only twice. Then Kyle’s voice, husky and deep, answered.