LITMIR.BIZ

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DECIDED TO WALK home for dinner. The ten blocks between the clinic and Maitland Drive, where she grew up, weren’t nearly enough to clear her mind, but the fresh October air invigorated her body. And the time alone was a balm.

      An unfamiliar car was parked just down from Maitland Mansion’s drive. Not that Ellie minded, but she had to veer around it. Only mildly curious, she continued through the black iron gates and slowly up the drive. She hoped Jessie, their cook, had made something light for dinner. Ellie didn’t feel much like eating, and Megan was sure to notice if she just picked at her food.

      Not for the first time, Ellie considered moving out, getting a place of her own.

      She never would have noticed the woman partially concealed by the bushes on the west side of the four-story mansion that was her home if it hadn’t been for the rays of the setting sun reflecting off the camera lens. Chelsea Markum.

      Unfortunately for the rabid reporter, Ellie was in the mood for a fight.

      Creeping slowly up behind her, Ellie ran through possible options for dealing with the determined woman. And froze when she caught a glimpse of Chelsea’s prey: baby Cody was lying on a quilt in the middle of the downstairs living room, his little legs dancing in the air. Chelsea’s video camera was pointed right at him.

      “No!” Ellie sprang forward without thinking—an action as unlike her as the karate chop she landed on Chelsea’s shoulder, causing the camera to slip from the startled woman’s grasp. As the camera hit the ground, the film compartment fell open, spilling the video tape onto the ground.

      Ellie stepped on it.

      Her “Leave him alone” came out in a whisper as she looked down at what she’d done.

      Chelsea, obviously as shocked as Ellie, stared from Ellie’s face to the ground and back again, speechless. “You…you…”

      “Just take the camera and go,” Ellie said, tired and disarmed by actions so completely out of character. “I’d tell you you were trespassing, but you already know that. It’s against the law,” she heard herself continue. “You know that, too. Don’t make me call the police.”

      “You can’t hide this thing forever,” the reporter said, picking up her camera. “Sooner or later we’re going to find out who abandoned that baby. And when we do, you’re going to wish you’d been a little more cooperative.”

      Watching the woman stride purposefully down the drive, Ellie figured she should be upset by the veiled threat. Maybe she was.

      At least she now knew who the unfamiliar car belonged to.

      “HERE’S HOPING we’re nobodies tonight,” Megan told her twin daughters as they followed her into her bedroom suite to watch the ten o’clock news that night. The practice had become almost a ritual over the past month as they’d seen their name smeared across the state.

      Baby Cody was asleep in his crib, his nurse in her room close by.

      “You don’t think she got anything today, do you?” Beth asked her mother, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the television. Newly engaged, Beth was admiring the diamond glittering on her finger.

      Megan, dressed in a silk dressing gown that only emphasized her tall, regal stature, settled on the couch and shrugged. “We have no idea how long she was out there before Ellie caught her. She may have had more than one tape.”

      “The bitch,” Beth murmured under her breath.

      Ellie smiled at her twin, enjoying, as always, Beth’s outspoken nature. Beth called it like she saw it. Ellie saw it, but hardly ever called anything.

      Having gone back to the clinic after dinner, Ellie had just arrived home moments before and was still in the blue suit she’d worn to work that morning. She joined her mother on the couch.

      “At least we weren’t headlines,” Megan said during the first commercial break.

      Beth, her PJ’s a pair of men’s flannel underwear and a T-shirt, nodded. “Yeah, if she got anything good, we’d have been headlines.”

      Ellie had to agree. She asked her mother about the presidential battle that had made the headlines, and while Beth went into the bathroom, the two of them discussed politics until the news was back on.

      They made it through the second commercial break, and Ellie breathed a sigh of relief. It was stupid, really, for her to be worrying about the effect all of this was going to have on the baby boy sleeping not too far away, especially after an entire month of ignoring his existence. Still, she couldn’t seem to help herself. She felt suddenly protective of the little man—and concerned about his future.

      Preparing to excuse herself, Ellie stood before the news was even over. It had been a long day; she was tired and had a load of homework to do to prepare for class the next week.

      “…And now, with more on the Maitland baby scandal, we turn you over to Tattle Today TV reporter Chelsea Markum…”

      Ellie froze.

      “…You can’t be an Austinite without being familiar with Maitland Drive, or with the maternity clinic for which the family has gained international recognition.” A picture of Maitland Mansion flashed up on the screen, followed by another of Maitland Maternity Clinic. “But how long has it been since anyone has taken a look behind the family’s public facade to find the flesh-and-blood people living within?

      “Interest in the family has been rampant ever since the appearance of an unnamed Maitland heir on the clinic’s doorstep last month. And though we’re no closer to finding out who the baby’s father is, we’ve discovered a few other secrets the Maitlands may prefer to hide. Why is it that twenty-five-year-old Ellie Maitland, toting only a bachelor’s degree, was appointed administrator of the world-renowned clinic? Nepotism you might ask?”

      “I guess I pissed her off.”

      Megan grasped Ellie’s hand, pulling her back down to the couch. Beth scooted over and leaned against Ellie’s legs. Ellie concentrated on keeping her dinner down.

      Chelsea continued, airing previously taped interviews with a couple of the clinic’s business associates. Both of them men; both of them over fifty. Neither of them bothered to hide their disdain at the thought of taking their business to Ellie.

      “I had occasion this week to discover a little bit more about this mysterious young woman who has single-handedly taken on the overwhelming responsibility of seeing to the safe running of a clinic whose clientele includes some of the world’s most famous mothers and babies.”

      “You are pretty awesome, El,” Beth said, smiling up at her.

      Megan squeezed the hand she still held.

      With a photo of Ellie as backdrop, Chelsea Markum continued. “What I found wasn’t all sunshine and roses. The Maitland Maternity administrator isn’t always as caring and concerned as she would have us believe. A childhood friend—a very handsome, single male childhood friend—approached Ms. Maitland earlier this week, desperately in need of help with his motherless twin babies…”

      Ellie’s hands and feet began to tingle as Chelsea described the scene in her office with a completely uncomplimentary slant. She could hardly hear the reporter for the roaring in her ears. She’d gone to bed, was having a really bad dream.

      “…while this may not be much in and of itself, when coupled with last month’s abandoned baby, one can’t help but wonder if, contrary to their PR, turning their backs on children in need is a family trait—”

      “No!”

      Ellie and Beth stared as their mother jumped up and, none too gently, turned off the television. “She’s gone too far.” Megan’s words were clipped, furious, and she began to pace her suite.

      Megan’s reaction scared Ellie more than anything the reporter had said.

      “Is it true?” Beth asked after a couple

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