LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

lifetime rift between his father, the imperious Harrington Mercer, and his I’ll-do-what-I-want-it’s-my-life younger brother over the weekly family dinner tonight at the Mercer ranch.

      Just another Friday. Well, except for the haircut. That was new. Liam loved firsts when it came to Alexander and noted them all in the leather-bound baby book his cousin Clara had given him, along with a seven-foot-tall stuffed giraffe, the day after Alexander was born. The first notation of the first first: at barely a half hour old, Alexander West Mercer wrapped his tiny fist around Liam’s pinky. Every worry and fear that a single, twenty-eight-year-old corporate president who’d had no idea he was even going to be a father could actually raise a helpless living creature on his own, fell away. Of course, every one of those worries returned two seconds later, but his heart had been swiped by the little guy. A love he’d never felt before had come bursting out of Liam’s chest. And that was that.

      He shifted Alexander in his arm, nudged the heavy baby bag higher up on his other shoulder and pulled open the door to Mercer Industries. Despite the fleece jacket with its bear-ears hood covering his son’s dark hair, the silky wisps were getting so unruly they were peeking out. The plan was to knock off the acquisition, deal with two of the meetings, then slip away at lunchtime to Kidz Kutz and be ready with his camera.

      “There’s Wyoming’s luckiest baby!”

      Liam turned around in the reception area. Clara, his favorite cousin and right-hand woman, VP of Mercer Industries, bent forward to coo at Alexander. As it was just before nine o’clock, employees began streaming through the doors, smiling at Alexander as they passed through to the elevator bank.

      Clara gave the baby a little tap on the nose. “Yup, luckiest. Millionaire at birth, gorgeous gray-blue eyes and the Mercer dimple and a doting extended family, including myself. Oh, and let’s not forget a daddy who refuses to hire a nanny and instead keeps him close by at the cushy company day care and visits twice a day.”

      “Three times, actually,” Liam said. He couldn’t spend enough time with his son.

      And at least it was Friday. Even though Liam always had work crowding his weekend, he was looking forward to his plans to take Alexander on a hike up Wedlock Creek Mountain to see the huge Cottonwoods. Alexander would watch the scenery from his perch in the backpack carrier, one of the zillion baby gifts he’d received from family and friends and coworkers in total shock that Liam Mercer, who wasn’t exactly a playboy but lived for work, had become a father.

      After the hike it would be library time, where he’d sack out on the huge bean bags dotting the children’s room and read Alexander’s favorite book three times, the one with the talking pear named Joe. On Sunday they’d head to his family’s ranch, a huge spread with a small petting zoo that his father had created just for Alexander. He was a good eight months away from feeding a goat pellets from his hand, but his dad wanted the zoo in place “because clearly Alexander is advanced.” His father was way over-the-top when it came to Alexander, but Liam had to admit the grandfatherly pride was touching. Especially from Harrington Mercer.

      Liam’s phone buzzed in his pocket, as it had been doing for the past half hour, par for the course for the president of Mercer Industries. But he couldn’t reach his phone with Alexander in one arm and his baby bag in the other. “Hold him for a sec, will you, Clara?”

      She wrinkled her nose. “And risk baby spit-up on my dress for the big meeting with Kenyon Corp? No way.” She did a few rounds of peekaboo, covering her face and opening her hands to reveal a big smile to a rapt Alexander. “Peekaboo, I see you! And I swear I love you even if I won’t risk what happened last month at your grandmother’s birthday dinner. Oh, yeah. I know you remember, drool-boy.” She blew a kiss at Alexander, then headed through the frosted-glass double doors on her very high heels.

      Liam rolled his eyes with a smile. Six months and a day ago, he’d been the same way. He’d no sooner go near a sticky baby than pet an animal who’d get white hairs on his Hugo Boss suit. But six months and a day ago, Liam hadn’t even known he was about to become a father.

      Life could change just like that. And had.

      And now Liam knew how wrong he and Clara were about their expensive clothes and perfect hair. Spit-up didn’t bother him at all. Changing diapers—no problem. Alexander’s new favorite solid food—Toasty Os cereal—thrown at his hair with a giggle? Good arm, kid. It was amazing how Liam had changed in six months because of one tiny baby. His baby.

      And Clara was wrong about something else. Alexander wasn’t the luckiest baby in Wyoming. He didn’t have everything.

      He didn’t have a mother.

      After the shock had worn off, when Liam had stepped into his new role as someone’s father, when he’d sit with Alexander in the middle of the night in the rocking chair in the nursery, feeding him a bottle, holding him, rocking him, breathing in the baby-shampoo scent of him, staring at every beautiful bit of him, all Liam could really focus on was the fact that his baby’s mother had died during childbirth, that this innocent child in his arms was motherless.

      Liam was doing okay as a father, maybe even better than okay. It had been some learning curve. He’d forced himself to take two weeks off from the office, hired a baby nurse to teach him the ropes, which had involved waking up every few hours, warming baby bottles, changing diapers, acquainting himself with ointments and lotions and baby bathtubs, and figuring out which cry meant hungry or diaper rash or gas or pick me up. Now, six months later, he basically knew what he was doing. But no matter that Liam was there, really there, he was no substitute for a mother.

      The problem with finding a mother for his son was that Liam wasn’t looking for a wife.

      “There’s our little heir,” came the voice of Harrington Mercer. The fifty-eight-year-old CEO took Alexander and held him high in the air, his own expensive suit be damned. “Good, Alexander, you’re all ready for a day of soaking up the corporate culture. You’ll intern here through college, then get your MBA, and you’ll be in line to take over Mercer Industries, just like your father and your grandfather did from great-granddad Wilton Mercer.”

      Liam mentally shook his head. “Dad, he’s six months old. Let’s get him sleeping through the night before he starts as a junior analyst at MI.”

      His father waved his hand in the air. “Never too soon to immerse the heir in the learning process. Anyone knows that, it’s you, Liam. Heck, you grew up in this building.” His dad smiled and kissed Alexander on the cheek. “Oh, I have a little present for you, Alexander.” He set his briefcase on the reception desk and opened it, and pulled out a tiny brown Stetson. “There. We may be businessmen, but we’re Wyoming men and cowboys at heart.”

      Harrington Mercer took off Alexander’s hood and settled the little hat, lined with fleece, on his head, nodded approvingly, then handed him back to Liam and headed through the double doors.

      “One minute I don’t understand your grandfather at all,” he whispered to Alexander. “And the next, I want to hug him. People are complicated. Life lesson one thousand five.”

      Alexander smiled and reached out to squeeze Liam’s chin.

      “You know what’s not complicated?” Liam whispered as he shifted his son to push open the door. “How much I love you.”

      Liam took the elevator to the fourth floor, which held the company’s health club, cafeteria and the day care, using his key card to open the door to the day care center. The main room, separated from the door with a white picket fence-gate decorated with grass and trees and flowers, was for the toddlers and preschool-age kids. Liam waved at one of the teachers, then headed into the nursery for babies under fourteen months. The room, with its pale blue walls bordered with smiling cartoon animals, was cozy with its decor and baby gear, the play mats and bouncers and bassinets with little spinning mobiles playing lullabies. Two babies were already there, having tummy time on the thickly padded mats. There were seven babies currently, ranging in age from three to twelve months.

      “Morning, Liam,” the nursery director said with a smile. “And good

Скачать книгу