LITMIR.BIZ

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sending her pen and a sheet of paper to the floor. “Oh!” She gathered the items and returned them to her desk. Waving at the only free seat in the room, she waited until Lydia was comfortable before returning to her own chair.

      “Kim, I want to thank you for last night.”

      “Oh, that was…anyone would have… I mean, are you okay?”

      “I’m fine, Kim. But what about you? Working so late last night, then in to the office early this morning. You have to make time for a social life, you know. Not to mention a decent night’s sleep.”

      Kim surveyed the stacks of paper, her expression bordering on the defensive. Lydia had often wondered at the total absence of anything personal in this office. No framed photos or cute magnets. Even Kim’s coffee mug was serviceable white ceramic.

      Something had to be done about this girl. And Lydia thought she had just the idea.

      “I’ve come to ask you a favor, Kim.”

      The accountant perked up, as if nothing could have pleased her more.

      “At the last board meeting the directors approved a fund-raising event. Parker wants to call it the Mother and Child Reunion, which is a wonderful name, I think. It will be a huge event. We’d like to invite as many of the women who delivered at our center—and their husbands, of course—as we can find. Also, any adult children who were born here will be welcome, too.”

      “Lydia. That will be a huge guest list.”

      “We won’t be able to track them all down. And many will have moved and be unable to attend. At any rate, the board wants us to cap the list at two hundred.”

      “Will you be inviting all the staff?”

      “Naturally. And board members, too.” Would her granddaughter come? Devon had attended all business meetings since her appointment. But she might consider this function more social in nature.

      “Well, we certainly could use some extra money around here.”

      “Yes, we could. Which leads me to that favor I told you I was going to ask. Parker already handles our annual SIDS fund-raiser, so I hate to put another event on his shoulders, too. Would you consider taking on the responsibility?”

      “Of course.” She seemed insulted that Lydia might have entertained any doubt. “I’d be pleased to do it.”

      “I don’t want you doing all the work. Just the organizing. All the staff will pitch in, including me.” This would force Kim to interact with her co-workers. Hopefully, over time, some of them would begin to appreciate the young woman’s more appealing characteristics—as Lydia did. “This project should be a team effort.”

      “Oh, don’t worry about giving me too much to do. I love to be busy. And I’m a very efficient time manager.”

      Yes. Maybe too efficient.

      “I promise you, this will be the birth center’s most successful fund-raising event, ever,” Kim continued.

      Mindful of her upcoming appointment, Lydia stood. “Let’s talk more about this later.” On her way out the door, Lydia glanced back at the accountant. Already her head was bent over her papers.

      Lydia hoped she hadn’t made a terrible mistake. If Kim took on this project without allowing anyone to help, she’d just isolate herself further. Still, even if handing Kim responsibility for the fund-raiser had been a mistake, it wouldn’t be the worst one Lydia had ever made.

      NOLAN STARED AT THE LAWYER, certain the woman had read incorrectly.

      “Executor of the will, I can understand. But Mary and Steve wouldn’t have named me guardian of their daughter. That would be Steve’s mom, Irene Davidson.”

      Only fifty-five, Irene was healthy and active. Judging from her home and the car she drove, she had plenty of money, too. Nolan knew she didn’t have to work.

      Irene had what was needed to raise her granddaughter—time and financial resources. Two things that were lacking in Nolan’s life right now.

      He’d stretched his credit to the max when he’d bought the Bulletin from Charley Graziano several years ago. Between that mortgage and the one for his condo, he had precious little spare cash.

      And even less time. Running a newspaper was rewarding but very time-consuming. Then there were all his volunteer commitments.

      Yeah, money and time were huge concerns. But the biggest problem of all was this: he and Sammy didn’t even know each other.

      “When was that will drawn up?”

      The lawyer stated a date about six months after Nolan and Mary’s mother’s funeral. Which made the whole setup even less logical.

      He and Mary had said some pretty unforgivable things to each other the day they’d laid their mother to rest. Why would she have turned around, only months later, and done something like this?

      “It doesn’t make sense.”

      “There’s no mistake, Nolan. You are Sammy’s legal guardian. She’s still staying with the Saramagos. I suggest you pick her up and get her settled before the funeral.”

      HALF AN HOUR LATER, Nolan was still in shock as he stopped his Explorer in front of the Saramagos’ pale pink adobe house. He thought back two days, to the night of Mary’s death and Steve’s accident. After leaving the hospital he’d driven straight to Irene’s. He’d woken her from a deep sleep, sat her on her floral-patterned living room sofa and told her about Mary, the baby, Steve.

      She’d reacted with total silence.

      He’d repeated the story, adding details this time, getting up to pace, then collapsing into a chair. He’d rubbed the stubble on his face, watching Irene’s face turn blanker and blanker.

      “I’ll make coffee.” He’d been in the kitchen, searching for a filter cone, when she’d started to scream.

      That had woken Sammy, asleep in the spare room. As he’d assumed, Mary and Steve had dropped her off on their way to The Birth Center.

      The little girl had wandered into the kitchen wearing something soft and pink. “Has Mommy had my baby sister yet?” she asked him.

      Irene wasn’t screaming anymore, but sobbing loudly. Nolan had been stunned by Sammy’s question.

      Explaining to Sammy what had happened was even harder than telling Irene. The little girl didn’t seem to believe him at first. He’d returned to the living room to try to deal with Irene. Unable to calm her down, he’d phoned her doctor.

      Teresa Saramago’s number had been listed by the phone as one of Irene’s emergency contacts, and he’d called her, too. Apparently she had a daughter the same age as Sammy and did some occasional baby-sitting. She agreed to take in the child while he drove Irene to the hospital.

      Hard to believe that had happened just two nights ago. Nolan turned off the ignition and sat for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts.

      There was a little girl inside that house for whom he was about to become solely responsible. Nolan wasn’t married, or engaged, he didn’t even have a steady girlfriend. Thirty might be a little old to be living a footloose kind of lifestyle, but it suited him and the demands of his profession.

      He wanted to restart his vehicle and drive the hell out of there. Instead, he got out slowly, his reporter’s eye ticking off details as he approached the home. A tricycle tipped over near the front step. A red plastic pail tucked into the shrubbery under the front window. Kids lived here, all right. Including, for the moment, his niece.

      If only he could leave her here. It was a cowardly thought, but expressed his feelings on the matter exactly.

      Nolan stopped in front of the freshly stained wooden door of the well-maintained home. A good mother lived here. She had kids of her own. She’d probably make a

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