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A Mommy in Mind
Arlene James
To: Pilar From: Ramon Re: A mommy for Lucia But which one?When I offered to help little Lucia's biological mother reclaim her baby, I never dreamed it would bring aspiring single mother Lori Sumner into my life. But from the moment we met, my heart went out to this hard-working reporter who's been Lucia's foster parent for nearly three months and now wants to officially adopt her.Personally, I think she'd make a great mom. Which is why this lawyer is eager to start negotiating his own family 'settlement' with Lori. Mum's the word, sis– until the day I pop the question!



A Mommy in Mind
Arlene James


Special thanks and acknowledgment are given
to Arlene James for her contribution to the
A TINY BLESSINGS TALE miniseries.

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue

Chapter One
“So,” Lori Sumner said, looking over her notes, “the official position of the agency is that marital status is secondary to placing the right child in the best home.”
Pilar Estes Fletcher smiled, her dark hair an inky froth of curls about her pretty face.
“Absolutely,” Pilar said, confirming Lori’s assessment. Lori made a note, adding this latest detail to the research she was compiling for a story assigned to her by her employer, The Richmond Gazette. Originally the series of new Tiny Blessings stories were to have been written by the newspaper’s star reporter, Jared Kierney. Unfortunately, a mining disaster in the far corner of the state had temporarily called Jared away. It seemed like a God-given opportunity to Lori, because, as a single woman with a strong desire for a family, she’d been thinking about the possibility of adopting a child herself, hence the focus of her story.
A sound at her back had Lori lifting her head. Pilar rose to her feet.
“Can I help you?”
Lori glanced over her shoulder. A girl stood behind her, a pink bundle clasped against her chest. Small in stature and dressed in jeans and an oversized T-shirt, the girl appeared to be little more than a child. Obviously of Hispanic extraction, she rocked nervously side to side before lurching forward.
“Her name is Lucia,” she announced in a thick, tear-clogged voice.
The next thing Lori knew, the girl bent and dropped the pink bundle into her arms! Notepad and ink pen scattered as Lori accepted the slight weight.
“I can’t keep her!” the girl exclaimed, before lapsing into Spanish.
Pilar came swiftly around the desk and the two conversed for several minutes, but Lori neither saw nor heard them, her entire attention centered on the bundle that now moved in her arms. A tiny fist appeared, poking out of a small, fluffy blanket. Gasping, Lori stared as that tiny fist waved, and the edge of the blanket fell away, revealing a perfect little face, reddened and scrunched. A baby. Brand-new from the looks of her.
Lori’s breath caught. She knew, knew, that God had brought her here today because of this infant, for this infant.
“Hello,” she crooned. “Hello, my darling. Hello.” Folding the delicate little body close, she closed her eyes and whispered, “Thank You, Lord. Oh, thank You.”
Lori rose to her feet as Ramon Estes strode into the understated luxury of the small waiting room, his long, purposeful strides lending an air of command to his demeanor.
Of Puerto Rican extraction and medium height and build, his face sculpted in aristocratic lines, the young attorney bore himself with grace, confidence and charm.
Confronted suddenly with the power of his presence, Lori wondered if it had been wise to come here on her own like this. From the instant that Yesenia Diaz had dropped her baby into Lori’s arms, Lori had been certain that God had brought little Lucia to her. She’d never dreamed that Yesenia might change her mind, and she could not accept the idea of fighting a custody challenge in court when this could so easily be resolved by simple logic. Why hire legal counsel when it was so obvious that she was the best mother for the baby she was trying to adopt? Determined to make Ramon Estes and his client see that, Lori sent up a silent prayer, unconsciously lifting her chin.
Ramon inclined his head as if accepting a challenge. Even the man’s thick, glossy black hair seemed tailored, from the meticulous side part to the neatly squared tips of his sideburns. Feeling unkempt and faded by comparison, Lori resisted the urge to smooth her plain brown hair and tug at the collar of the soft, mauve silk blouse that she wore with pleated gray slacks.
“Miss Sumner,” Estes said in greeting, his accent delicately flavored with Spanish. Lori smiled wanly in return as he swept a hand toward the door through which he had just entered. “This way, por favor.”
The Spanish, she felt sure, was a subtle but pointed reminder of the cultural divide between them, for she knew for a fact that Ramon was born in Virginia. He would soon learn that she had nothing but respect for the Latin culture with its strong work ethic, innate pride and emphasis on family. In fact, she counted several Hispanic friends among her most devout Christian brothers and sisters and even knew Ramon’s own family from church and the Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency.
Ramon himself was another matter entirely. Lori could not recall seeing him in church except for at his sister, Pilar’s, wedding last year. The two had formally met only days earlier, introduced by a mutual acquaintance at the Starlight Diner back in Chestnut Grove. Lori had learned then that her universe was threatening to come undone. While she had stood there thinking him the most attractive man in town, Ramon had baldly announced that baby Lucia’s birth mother, Yesenia Diaz, intended to stop the adoption and reclaim her child.
Ramon ushered Lori along a narrow hallway and past one closed door and another to a third. Slipping ahead of her, he thrust the door wide and stepped aside. Awareness shivered through Lori as she moved by him, her shoulder brushing lightly against his chest. He directed her to a seat, one of a pair of club chairs upholstered in soft tan leather and arranged in front of a neat, gleaming desk. As she sank into her chair, she placed her voluminous bag on the floor and glanced around.
Once a town house in an upper-class urban neighborhood of stately Richmond, Virginia, the gracious old building had been updated and divided into private offices. Opulent in the standard of a bygone era, with marble floors, dark, glossy woods and brass fittings, the place reminded Lori of her own apartment building in the suburban community of Chestnut Grove to the east.
The office was fairly small. All four walls, excepting the two bare windows, were lined with bookcases. A computer occupied a rectangular table abutting the desk, which held several small framed photos of Ramon’s parents, sister Pilar and brother-in-law, Zach, as well as his soon-to-be-adopted niece and nephew, who would shortly be joined by the child Pilar now carried. Ramon Estes was evidently a proud and caring son, brother and uncle. Lori took hope from that.
He walked around the desk and lowered himself into a comfortable brown leather chair. After adjusting his cuffs, he brought his hands together in the center of the desk and simply looked at her.
For a moment Lori could do nothing but look back, taking in the rugged contours of his face. Just short of rawboned with a high forehead, square jaw and chin, prominent cheekbones and a neat, slightly jutting brow over deeply set eyes, a nose neither too long nor short and lips neither too full nor spare, his was a compelling visage.
Lori fought the urge to smooth her hair again by tucking one side behind her ear. She was not here to impress anyone with her own bland looks; she was here to make Ramon Estes see reason, and through him, hopefully, his client. She opened her mouth and, without preamble, began to speak, laying out the first of her well-rehearsed arguments.
“I am twenty-seven years old.”
The black slashes of his eyebrows shot upward, telling her how very abrupt the statement had sounded. Grimacing inwardly, she watched him lean back into his chair and wave a languid hand, each movement controlled and calculated.
“And I am thirty-two. Now that we have established ages, I expect you will come to the point.”
Lori rolled her eyes. “The point is, I have a full decade on Yesenia Diaz. She is only a senior in high school, while I am a mature woman well established in my career as a reporter.”
Ramon fixed Lori with a gaze that, though intense, gave away nothing. “My abuela was but eighteen when she gave birth to my mother, and she turned out well. In fact, I know of no finer woman than my own mother.” He had made his point. Age would not be an issue in this; he would not allow it.
Words tumbled out of Lori’s mouth without forethought. “At least your grandmother was married to your abeulo,” she snapped, letting him know that she could claim a little Spanish, at least.
He tilted his head, retorting dryly, “Congratulations. I was unaware that you had married.”
“Of course I haven’t!”
“Then, I fail to see how Yesenia’s marital status applies. That was your implication, wasn’t it?”
Lori bit down on her tongue, determined to be more circumspect in her comments. “I—I only meant that at her young age your grandmother must have been especially grateful for the help of your grandfather.”
Ramon smiled that blinding white smile of his. “No doubt. As Yesenia is grateful for the help of her family.”
Lori caught her breath. “I—I thought they were unsupportive.”
“So did Yesenia. Otherwise she would not have acted so rashly in giving up her child. But such is not the case. The Reynaldas are most supportive.”
“I see.” Lori bit her lip.
He sat forward suddenly, brushing back the sides of his coat and bracing his elbows against the desktop. “How much do you know about Yesenia’s situation?”
“I—I know that she lives with her aunt and uncle.”
Ramon nodded. “Her aunt, Maria Reynalda, is the sister of Yesenia’s mother. Both of Yesenia’s parents and her baby brother were killed when the bus they were riding in took a curb too sharply and tumbled down a ravine in central Mexico. Yesenia was eleven years old. She lived essentially on the streets of her small village for some months, spending a night here, a night there, catching a meal with whatever neighbor could afford to share with her, until word of the tragedy made its way here to the Reynalda household in the U.S.”
Lori closed her eyes, horrified by what she was hearing. She, too, had been orphaned and at an age even younger than Yesenia, but at least the state had stepped in to make provision for her, such as it had been.
“I didn’t know how Yesenia came to be here or why,” Lori admitted softly. “There was no reason why I should. One moment I was talking to your sister and the next Yesenia thrust this perfect little darling into my arms. It seemed meant to be, ordained.”
In fact, when her editor had assigned her to take over the series of stories about the Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency for the newspaper, Lori had been silently ambivalent. Tiny Blessings and the scandals revealed by the murder of its founder, Barnaby Harcourt, the previous year, were old news. Besides, the new series of personal stories was the brainchild of Jared Kierney, the unofficial star reporter at the Richmond Gazette, so he should have been the one sitting there interviewing Pilar when Yesenia had burst into the room. Instead, Jared had been called out of town to cover a major mining accident in the southwestern corner of the state, so it had been Lori there that day when Yesenia Diaz had interrupted her interview with Pilar to tearfully surrender her newborn infant.
Lori had been certain in that moment that God had put her in that place at that time for a reason. All of her life Lori had craved a family of her own, and after she’d impulsively blurted out her desire to adopt Lucia herself, Pilar had calmly laughed and turned the tables. Suddenly the reporter had been the one being interviewed!
Despite being single, within seventy-two hours Lori had been certified as a foster parent and taken her unofficial daughter home. In a twinkling, all the years that she’d spent in foster care had made sense. Adopting Lucia seemed fated by God, preordained—but apparently not to Ramon Estes.
He shrugged. “You were closest. It was that simple. Yesenia sought out Pilar because she felt she could trust her, and when she saw you there, she thought you must be a coworker.”
Lori shook her head. “I don’t believe it was nothing more than chance! Lucia belongs with me. I know it in my heart. And I can give her a good home.” She ticked off all the reasons this was so. “True, my apartment is small, but it’s more than comfortable for the two of us, and when she needs more room, I’m sure I’ll be able to afford it. My work hours are flexible. I have a wonderful sitter coming in.”
“She belongs with her mother,” Ramon stated flatly.
“But Lucia has been with me for three months! I am the only mother she’s ever known. I couldn’t love her more if I’d given birth to her myself!”
Ramon pressed his temples with the thumb and forefinger of one hand as if she’d tried his patience. “No one doubts that, I’m sure, but the fact remains that you did not give birth to her, and the young woman who did deserves a chance to raise her daughter herself.”
“Yesenia isn’t even out of high school!”
“She’s in her last year, and the Reynaldas will see to it that she graduates. Many young mothers begin with less.”
Lori snatched a deep breath and steeled herself to make what seemed to her to be her best argument.
Pilar had apologetically confessed to Lori that Ramon had taken the custody case primarily because Yesenia was an illegal alien. Surely, despite the tragic circumstances that had brought her to this country, Yesenia did not want her status known.
“And if Yesenia is deported?” Lori asked, fighting to keep the tremor out of her voice. “What then?”
Ramon stiffened. “Are you threatening to turn her in to Immigration?”
“I’m only asking who would support her and her child if she has to return to Mexico? If the Reynaldas are her only family, would she leave Lucia behind with them?”
Ramon relaxed back into his chair again, adopting an insouciance that put Lori’s teeth on edge. “I wouldn’t pin my hopes on Yesenia being deported, if I were you. It’s already being addressed. Immigration issues are my specialty, you know, and I’m quite confident that the circumstances of Yesenia’s entry into this country will carry enough weight to overcome any technical illegality.”
Lori gulped, dismay sweeping over her. She wanted to doubt him, to believe that this was more bluff than sound assessment, but in her heart of hearts, she knew that he was very likely correct. And yet, she could not believe that Lucia’s appearance in her life was mere chance. She firmly believed that God had plans for His children. Surely His plan for Lori was not to break her heart!
“I love her,” she whispered, picturing Lucia’s tiny face.
“I would ask you to consider one more thing,” Ramon said, his voice taking on a surprising gentleness. “Lucia should not be deprived of her cultural identity.”
Lori narrowed her eyes. “And you think I would deprive her of that?”
He seemed a little taken aback by her vehemence. “Not purposefully, no, but—”
“For your information, Señor Estes,” she said cuttingly, “I have already taken great pains to educate myself about my daughter’s cultural heritage, including the language. No child of mine will ever lack for—”
He raised his hand beseechingly. “I apologize. I did not mean to imply that you were in any way—” He paused and swallowed uncomfortably, tugging once more at his cuffs before saying carefully, “—insensitive. I only meant that Lucia would naturally be surrounded by her own culture in the Reynalda home.”
“But that’s the very home Yesenia felt was all wrong for her child!” Lori pointed out. “I heard her say it myself. In English.”
“No, no. It was only that she could not find another solution at the time,” Ramon insisted.
He went on to explain that Yesenia had always felt as if she were a burden to her aunt and uncle, who had a large family of their own. She couldn’t help being aware that they had spent a good deal of money to bring her here to this country. When she’d found herself pregnant and abandoned by the father of her child, she’d been ashamed and had hid her pregnancy until the very end. As a result the Reynaldas had been in shock when the baby had arrived. Yesenia had misinterpreted their shock. She’d felt that she was a disappointment to them and had made the rash decision not to ask them to financially support her and her baby, too.
“In her mind, there was nothing else to do except give up her child,” Ramon explained, spreading his hands.
“But why take her back now?” Lori countered. “Lucia is happy with me. I can give her the love and security that Yesenia cannot.”
“But she can,” Ramon argued. “The Reynaldas never wanted Yesenia to place her child for adoption. It goes against everything they believe. Unfortunately, by the time they found out, she had already done it.”
“Surely it’s for the best.”
“The Reynaldas don’t think so, and neither does Yesenia now that she knows her family will gladly stand beside her and help her raise her child.”
“Then why wait so long to file her claim?” Lori demanded, desperately grasping at straws. “If it took the Reynaldas three months to convince her that she’d made a mistake, maybe she doesn’t want Lucia as much as you say!”
Ramon fixed her with an implacable look. “She stalled from concern for you, Miss Sumner. That’s what has taken her so long, her concern for you.”
“Me?” Lori replied weakly, more moved than she wanted to be.
Ramon Estes nodded, his expression softening. “My client is not insensitive to your plight.” His eyes seemed to say that he felt concern for her, as well.
Lori didn’t buy it for a moment. It was just a lawyer’s trick designed to win a point. Wasn’t it? If so, it was terribly effective. She collapsed against her chair with a gusty sigh.
“I am not insensitive to her plight, either, Mr. Estes, but I believe I can best provide Lucia with everything she needs.”
“And I believe that Lucia is better off with her real mother,” he replied simply.
What he did not say, what he did not need to say, was that as the biological mother, Yesenia surely had more claim to the child than Lori herself. Bereft, Lori rose to her feet, clutching her enormous bag beneath her arm.
“I suppose we’ll have to leave it to a higher power then.”
He spread his hands, also rising. “I fully expect the courts to side with my client, ma’am.”
“I wasn’t speaking of the courts, sir,” Lori said softly.
“Ah.” He nodded. “Well, I shall make my arguments at the court bench. You may make yours at an altar if you wish, but I still believe my client will win.”
“We’ll see,” Lori whispered, turning toward the door. She kept her head high as she walked away from him, but she made her way downstairs to the first floor with eyes clouded by tears.
She’d never expected to identify so strongly with Yesenia’s situation. Yet, Lori believed wholeheartedly that God had brought Lucia to her for a reason. What could that reason be if not, at long last, to provide her with the family she had always wanted?
Upon reaching the foyer, she hurried out onto the sidewalk and then up the street to her car. With summer waning and September only three days away, the air felt soft with just a hint of the chill to come. Tossing her soft leather bag inside, she dropped down behind the wheel, aware that she had forgotten to lock the door earlier in her agitation.
Then again, who would want a basic, faded, eleven-year-old coupe except someone tied to the decrepit old thing with emotional bonds? Her foster parents, Mary and Fred Evans, had given her this car, already used and without a single luxury, when she’d graduated from high school. Lori had intended to trade it once she could afford better, but Mary died unexpectedly of a heart attack that summer, and Fred, who had been fighting cancer for months, had quickly followed. After their deaths, Lori had traded transportation for room and board with the family of a close friend, Joanna Tipps, now Allred, who’d attended the same junior college.
Joanna had not gone on to university. She’d married her high-school sweetheart instead, and now lived in Maryland with her husband and three children. Lori had stayed on with Joanna’s parents until she’d graduated. Joanna and the elder Tipps were the closest thing Lori had to family beside Lucia, but they’d drifted apart over the years, Joanna busy with her lot, Lori concentrating on her career.
It had comforted Lori, in some way, to go on driving the vehicle that Mary and Fred had sacrificed to provide for her, just as it comforted her to go to God with her problems as they had taught her. She knew that He had a plan, and she trusted Him, she truly did. It had to work out so that she could keep Lucia, because she simply couldn’t see her life without Lucia anymore.
On the other hand, it was so easy to picture the home that she could build around Lucia, an island of serenity in a turbulent world, a haven of acceptance and love. Lucia would never be the angry, sullen teenager that Lori had been.
Lori still marveled at the patience of Mary and Fred Evans. Working quietly, gently, steadily, they had won her over step-by-step, until one night Lori had finally whispered the words that they had so longed to hear. She whispered them again now, as she had so often over the years, in a kind of remembrance, a ritual act of praise.
“Thank You, Lord, for Mary and Fred, and making them care about me. Come into my heart and forgive me of my sins.”
The first time that she’d said it, a long laundry list of confessions had followed. Afterward, they’d all cried because they’d all been so happy.
Lori closed her eyes, wanting that for Lucia, wanting to be the one to patiently, tenderly guide her home to God. Never, never, did she want for Lucia or any child what she had experienced before the Evanses.
It was one thing to lose one’s only parent, another entirely to be the one to find the body. Not that she’d realized it at the time. At four, you just think that Mama is asleep on the sofa and won’t wake up. You don’t think—you can’t think—that Mama will never wake up again because such a thought is so far beyond anything you’ve yet learned.
It was only after the man and woman had stumbled into the living room and tried to wake her mama that Lori had realized this was not the same as all those times before. Funny, she couldn’t remember their names now, even though they’d been particular friends of Mama’s, friends who’d often spent the night after an evening of laughter and shrieking and other things Lori had tried very hard not to see.
She vividly recalled being asked their names after the police had come, but she didn’t know now if she’d been able to reveal them. Whoever they were, they had called the cops, gathered up all the drugs and beat it, leaving her there alone.
She’d remained alone until she’d been placed with Mary and Fred, alone in all the shelters and homes to which she was trundled over the years. It was as if she’d simply disappeared in some ways, and that was fine with her at first; so fine that for over two years she hadn’t said a word, until finally she’d realized that she would never again have a mama or anyone unless she somehow called attention to herself.
Some of the things that she’d done to make herself seen and known made her cringe now. They were all the wrong things, of course; the very things her mother had done. She’d been well on her way, in fact, to being the drug addict that her mother had been, until Mary and Fred had taken her in.
She wasn’t sure when she’d first realized that Mary was right, that God had a reason for it all, that there was a heavenly plan for her life that human willfulness could shape but not derail. Even now, she could not doubt that there was purpose and intention at work here.
“I know You have a plan, Lord,” she said, smiling. “And I trust You. Truly I do.”
After all she had been through, how could she not?
Feeling better, she headed back home to Chestnut Grove and her daughter, determined to fight for the child God had given her.

Chapter Two
“Goodbye, sweetheart.”
Lori bent and placed a kiss on Lucia’s tiny brow. Every leave-taking was bittersweet now, but then perhaps that was the way it should be. Perhaps that was what she was meant to learn from her current troubles, that every moment a mother spent away from her child was a moment lost. Realistically she knew that it was not possible, or even desirable, to spend every moment with her daughter, but that only increased the value of the time they did have.
Cradled in the crook of the plump elbow of Juanita Jackson, the middle-aged nanny whom Lori had hired, baby Lucia imitated Lori, pursing her mouth with concentration so intense that her little eyes crossed. The two women laughed with delight. Of Cuban ancestry, unfailingly pleasant, competent and a devout believer, Juanita had been a true blessing to both Lori and Lucia. Because she was married, she preferred not to live in, which suited Lori well since her apartment provided only two bedrooms.
The second-story apartment in a converted town house east of downtown Chestnut Grove was small, but Lori loved everything about it, from its polished wood floor to its high, plastered ceiling with their lazily circling fans. The kitchen certainly could have been bigger, but the windows were large enough to give the place an airy feel. Lori especially loved the nursery, which she’d done up in soft yellows and creams, with pale pink and spring green accents. She’d even handsewn the window curtains and a ruffled bed skirt for the antique crib that she’d stumbled onto in a little shop downtown.
As Lori hurried out of the building to her car, she made a mental note to take the baby out for a stroll that evening. They went out at least a couple times a week for long, lazy cruises around the neighborhood. It had become a habit with them, but with autumn on the doorstep, Lori felt a sense of urgency that she hadn’t before. At least she tried to tell herself that was the problem. In truth, she couldn’t help fearing that her time with Lucia would end even before the summer, which was exactly why she was heading out early today.
After yesterday’s meeting with Ramon Estes, Lori needed advice, and she couldn’t think where else to get it except at the Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency. Her hope was that Pilar would have a few minutes to speak with her. Lori didn’t want to put Ramon’s sister in the middle of the custody fight, but it seemed to her that Ramon had already done that. She only hoped that Pilar would have something helpful to offer.
Careful of the brick privacy fencing on either side of the drive, Lori guided the car out into the street and drove through Chestnut Grove at a sedate pace. Even here in the suburbs of Richmond they had their share of rush-hour traffic. It was nothing, of course, like that of the city itself, but folks were fond of complaining about the traffic, anyway, in a rather self-congratulatory fashion, to be sure. Lori was guilty of it herself. Traffic in Chestnut Grove might be trying at times, but that didn’t keep her from being happy to leave Richmond behind every day or stop her from appreciating the benefits of small-town life.
Real traffic congestion, however, was simply abnormal, which was why Lori knew as soon as she turned the corner onto the street where the adoption agency was located that something was wrong. This traffic had little to do with the workday rush into Richmond and everything to do with catastrophe. It looked as though a parade had stacked up, complete with fire engines, flashing lights and police cars parked at odd angles.
Whipping the coupe into the first available spot along the curb, Lori tossed back the flap of her shoulder bag and pulled out her press credentials, which she clipped to the collar of her white blouse before bailing out of the car. Despite the narrowness of her knee-length khaki skirt, she put her tan leather flats to good use, digging a pen and pad from her bag as she hurried toward the fire engine taking up a good portion of the street. She used a technique honed by years of experience and called out a question based purely on assumption to a firefighter locking down a coiled water hose.
“Any idea how it started?”
He looked up and shrugged, but then as she drew closer he not only confirmed her assumption that there had been a fire but also yielded vital info. “Considering the break-in, I think it’s safe to say the fire was intentional.”
Wow. Fire and break-in. Looked as though the adoption agency had not yet left its troubles behind. Too bad. Tiny Blessings did much good in the community.
Lori glanced over her shoulder at the policemen and firefighters going in and out of the building, commenting offhandedly, “Sounds like somebody’s still nursing a grudge. Any idea who it might be?”
The firefighter shook his head. Well, one thing was certain. It was not Lindsey Morrow, the wife of Chestnut Grove’s former mayor. Lindsey had not only murdered the agency’s founder, Barnaby Harcourt, she’d attempted to kill the agency’s current director, Kelly Young, now Kelly Van Zandt. Unfortunately the list of those who might have reason to bear a grudge against the agency could be lengthy because Harcourt had taken payoffs and bribes to falsify adoption records for decades before his death.
Kelly had done everything in her power to restore the agency’s reputation and fulfil its mission of bringing together God’s needy children and worthy parents. The series of positive personal stories that first Jared and now Lori were currently writing for the paper was intended to get that message out to the public. Lori could only hope that this latest catastrophe would not set things back, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to cover the story. Quite the contrary. It was her job to report the news, and better her than someone who had no personal knowledge of the workings and value of the agency.
Lori thanked the firefighter and hurried toward the building. She was rehearsing what she was going to say to get past the uniformed officer at the entrance when Kelly’s husband, Ross Van Zandt, stepped out onto the sidewalk.
Van Zandt was a man’s man, tall and solid, with dark hair and eyes and a beard so heavy that more often than not he appeared to be in need of a shave. Since his marriage, he’d been an active member of Chestnut Grove Community Church, along with his wife. Consequently, Lori knew him well enough to use his given name.
“Ross!”
Looking her way, he acknowledged her presence with a resigned nod. “That didn’t take long,” he said wryly as she hurried up.
“This one’s a God-do,” she told him. “I was coming in to confer with someone about my own situation and blundered into the middle of this. They’re saying someone broke in and set a fire. How bad is it?”
Ross sighed and parked his hands at his waist, obviously considering the wisdom of speaking to any member of the press, even Lori. She couldn’t blame him for his wariness. As a private investigator and former cop, not much got past Ross; he knew well that attention could help as much as hurt, but his wife was the director of the adoption agency, and anyone who knew them understood that Ross would walk through fire before he allowed anything to harm Kelly or her precious agency. On the other hand, if anyone knew what was going on and whether or not to comment, it would be Ross.
After a moment he turned back inside and waved her along with him, apparently having weighed the options and decided that a fair report was his best choice. Lori wrinkled her nose at the smell of smoke, picking her way around puddles and emergency personnel in the outer offices. As soon as they were assured of a modicum of privacy, Ross began to speak in a confidential tone.
“It looks bad, but the damage is mostly cosmetic.” Lori heaved a silent sigh of relief and made a note on her pad. Ross went on. “The safety sprinklers caused the most damage, frankly, so the fire was the least of it.”
“Any idea where it started?”
“The blaze was contained in the file room.”
“Sounds like someone wanted to destroy records.”
“Yeah. I’d say that was pretty much the idea.”
“In other words,” Lori surmised, “Tiny Blessings still has an enemy out there, and with the files destroyed, it’s going to be tough to figure out who it is.”
Ross leaned in close, murmuring, “Off the record?”
Lori nodded and for emphasis clicked her pen to retract the writing point. “Sure.”
“We didn’t lose much. Months ago I began systematically scanning all the files and backing up the entire computer system on a daily basis.”
“But that’s good, isn’t it? Why keep it off the record?” Lori asked.
“It’s good for us,” Ross pointed out. “Maybe not so good for the perpetrator. No point letting him or her know that this little exercise wasn’t successful.”
“Maybe that way there won’t be a repeat performance,” Lori said. “I understand, and thank you for trusting me with this information.”
“I didn’t want you to worry that Lucia’s records had been destroyed,” he told her, his dark eyes full of compassion.
She knew her smile was wan, but it was the best she could do at the moment. “Thanks, I appreciate that. I’m just not sure it’ll make any difference.”
“We’ve heard about the custody suit,” he said. “I’m sorry, and I know Kelly is, too.”
Lori tried to smile. “Thanks again. I was hoping to speak to Pilar about it, but obviously that’s not going to happen, so I guess there’s no point in me hanging around here. At least I got the story first. If you’ll just give me a few more particulars, I’ll be on my way.” She tapped the notebook with her ink pen.
“No problem,” Ross said, leading her back into the inner offices. “I’ll let you take a look around, too, if you like, but don’t go running off until you’ve spoken to Kelly. I know she wants to tell you something.”
Taking heart from that, Lori did her job and followed him through the dripping rooms right to the scene of the crime.
“I’m afraid there isn’t much we can do,” Kelly said, perched on the edge of her painfully neat desk. She wore a short-sleeved, straight sheath dress that did not quite disguise the slight bulge of her pregnancy. Her warm brown eyes telegraphed sympathy, while the neat twist of her artfully streaked blond hair provided a poised, professional appearance, a welcome counterpoint to the chaotic noises coming from behind the closed door to her office.
Thankfully, the private offices of the adoption agency had escaped the deluge since the fire hadn’t gotten hot enough to set off the sprinklers in this portion of the building, which not only meant that the agency wouldn’t have to shut down operations completely but that Lori and Kelly could meet in relative comfort and privacy.
Sitting in a wing-backed chair, Lori nodded glumly. “I understand.”
“We’re still convinced that you are a wonderful mother for any child,” Kelly went on, “and we’ll back up that judgment in court. That is, if you’ve decided to fight for Lucia.”
“I don’t think I can do anything else,” Lori said softly.
“In that case…” Kelly picked up a business card from the blotter on her desk and leaned forward, pressing it into Lori’s hand. “On a strictly personal level, I heartily recommend this woman. She’s a fine attorney. Family law is her specialty, and she works on a sliding-fee scale. I think you’ll find her compassionate and knowledgeable, and I’ve told her that you might be calling.”
Lori looked down at the card and then back up at Kelly, forcing a smile. “Thank you.”
“I wish we could do more,” Kelly said, spreading her hands in a gesture of helplessness, “but we’re officially neutral in cases like this. Thankfully, they’re rare. I’m so very sorry that your situation is proving the exception.”
“I really wish I understood why,” Lori whispered.
Kelly leaned forward again and slipped an arm around Lori’s shoulders. “Just keep trusting God, and know that we’re praying for you.”
Lori nodded and slid the business card into her shoulder bag. “It’s good to know I have Christian friends to support me.”
Kelly patted her shoulder. “I think you have more friends than you know, and however this turns out, we’ll be here for you.”
Lori got up, trying to smile, and took her leave with the comment that she had to hurry to work and write her story about the break-in and fire. It was to Kelly’s credit that she didn’t ask Lori to downplay the event, but then surely Kelly knew that Lori would be fair.
As she was leaving the building, Lori noticed that the competition had arrived in the form of a television van and reporters from two other local papers. One of them, Alton Kessler, had penned some of the most lurid accounts of the agency’s past troubles.
Also on the scene was Florence Villi. The plump, saturnine cleaning lady at Tiny Blessings brushed past Lori on her way inside, her mousy brown hair caught up at the back of her head in a short, thin ponytail. No doubt she had been called in to help with the cleanup. She’d have a big job ahead of her, even with the fire contained to a single room.
Glancing back at the eighteenth-century stone front of the graceful old former bank building, Lori thought of all the photos that lined the walls of the adoption agency. What a tragedy it would be if Tiny Blessings lost pieces of its heritage to this dastardly act. Tragedy, it seemed, hung like a pall over everything lately.
Suddenly the words of the 44th Psalm came to mind.
For our soul has sunk down into the dust;
Our body cleaves to the earth.
Rise up, be our help, and redeem us for the sake of
Thy loving kindness.
Hurrying toward her car, Lori prayed that the attorney Kelly had recommended would be her salvation. She called from her cell phone for an appointment even before she pulled away from the curb.
Ramon laid aside the newspaper and looked up at the television mounted high in the corner behind the counter in the Starlight Diner. He reached for the coffee cup that the waitress had just refilled. The news this morning was all about the break-in and fire at the Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency.
“Pity, isn’t it?”
Turning his head, he encountered none other than Lori Sumner herself. Considering that he’d just finished her account of the crime, he might have conjured her out of thin air. Her simple black slacks and matching turtleneck should have lent her a masculine air. Instead they seemed to heighten her femininity. With her sleek, golden-brown hair caught at the nape of her neck, her light green eyes took on breathtaking brilliance. Clearing his throat, he hastily set aside his cup and got to his feet.
“It certainly is.”
“I hope Pilar isn’t too upset by it all.”
“So do I. It’s the last thing she needs right now.”
His sister’s pregnancy was beginning to take a toll on her energy. She wouldn’t complain, of course, having feared that she might never conceive, which was one reason she and her husband, Zach, had decided to adopt right after they’d married. Now, with two preschoolers and a baby on the way, Pilar had her hands full. But her dedication to her work at the adoption agency would never waver, hence Ramon’s concern.
Lori glanced at the newspaper he had just laid aside. “I see you’ve read my piece.”
Smiling to himself, he smoothed his tie with one hand. He had to hand it to her. Of all the accounts of the break-in and fire that he had heard or read, hers was the most incisive.
“You write a fair, detailed, unbiased story. Especially compared to the character assassination that jerk Kessler at the other paper makes his speciality.”
Kessler’s reporting relied heavily on innuendo and speculation, much of it seemingly designed to trash Kelly Van Zandt. Ramon couldn’t help wondering what the man had against the director of the adoption agency. Lori seemed to concur with Ramon’s assessment of Kessler’s reportage.
“Faint praise, indeed.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
“In that case, thanks.”
Ramon inclined his head. “You’re welcome.” Reaching down he pulled out a chair. The act was completely unplanned and took even him by surprise. Nevertheless, he issued the invitation formally. “Care to take a seat?”
She shook her head. “No time. I’m just picking up a cup of coffee on my way to work.”
“Ah.” Unaccountably disappointed, he wondered what had gotten into him. “Have a good day then.”
“You, too.”
With that she walked away. He folded himself down into his chair, his gaze falling on the newspaper again. Lori obviously enjoyed her work, judging by its quality, and had the determination to ferret out a good story. But then he already knew that she had her share of spunk. Few people would have pled their own case to the opposition the way that she had. Apparently she’d had lots of practice standing up for herself. How else could she have survived all that she’d endured in her lifetime?
Ramon shuffled aside the newspapers and picked up the file that he’d received by special delivery only that morning. He’d hired a private investigator to check out Lori even before he’d met her, and the resulting report was surprisingly thick. Lori Sumner was an open book; being a ward of the state until age eighteen had guaranteed it. The report gave Ramon plenty of ammunition to use against her in court and also made him loath to do it.
A movement at his side had Ramon looking up again. His brother-in-law, Zach Fletcher, grinned as he dropped down into the chair that Ramon had pulled out for Lori.
“How you doing?”
Ramon chuckled. He’d been determined to dislike Zachary Fletcher, but it just wasn’t possible. For one thing, he’d made Ramon’s sister, Pilar, ridiculously happy, and he was turning out to be a very fine father to the children they were in the process of adopting, Adrianna and Eduardo. For another, Zach was exactly what a good cop should be, a first-rate detective who went after the truth.
“Fine. You?”
“Never better.” After signaling the waitress for coffee, Zach smoothed his wavy brown hair and folded his arms against the tabletop. “So what’s up with you these days?”
Ramon folded his napkin just so across his thigh. “I’m sure Pilar’s told you about the custody case.”
Zach made a face. “Yeah. She feels pretty bad about it since she’s the one who recommended Lori as an adoptive parent.”
“I guess that should’ve been my first clue.” Ramon sighed.
“Meaning?”
“When I first took on this case I expected to be dealing with a spoiled rich girl, a do-gooder with little real-world experience and no appreciation for Latino culture. Instead, I find that Lori Sumner is not only open-minded but a survivor of some of life’s most devastating blows.”
Zach nodded. “Pilar’s told me some of her story. Guess her father was never a part of her life, then her mother died when she was young.” He shook his head. “You’d think she’d have been adopted, but instead she grew up in foster care.”
Lori had languished in foster care because she’d been diagnosed as learning disabled as a result of her mother’s drug use. Traumatized by her mother’s death, she hadn’t spoken for a couple years, and during that time she’d suffered from horrible night terrors. Her intelligence was not, however, by anyone’s standard, deficient. Ramon could attest to that fact himself. Not surprisingly, though, by the time she’d reached her early teens, she’d been rebellious and belligerent, acting out in frightening ways.
“Like I said, she took some tough blows.”
“Yeah,” Zach agreed softly. “I told Pilar that a couple brushes with the law shouldn’t be held against her. I mean, she’s made a real success of herself, right?”
The waitress arrived with fresh coffee just then, and Ramon took advantage of her presence to delay replying. He shifted in his chair, crossed his legs, pinched the crease in his slacks, anything not to look Zach in the eye, because the truth was that in a court of civil law, Lori’s past could very much be held against her—and he would have to be the one to see that it was. The idea left a sour taste in his mouth.
She’d been only fifteen when she was arrested for marijuana possession. Because she’d pled guilty and performed community service, the record would have been expunged had she not gotten caught again only months later. There were other scrapes, too, such as skipping school and petty shoplifting. She’d wound up on probation and at one point it had seemed that she was destined for detention, but then she’d been placed with an older couple by the name of Evans, both now deceased, and everything had changed.
It pained Ramon to think of her having been in trouble with the police. He remembered only too well his own early experience with the heavy hand of the law. It was part of the reason he’d been so ready to dislike Zach. Even now, the memory rankled.
He and a couple of friends had been lounging against their cars at a popular strip mall on the outskirts of Richmond, cutting up and talking as teenagers will do, music throbbing from someone’s CD player, when a fight had broken out across the parking lot behind them. It had nothing to do with them and was far enough away that they hadn’t felt threatened at all. They’d scoffed among themselves at the stupidity of scraping up knuckles and faces in some silly macho exercise, when suddenly they were surrounded by cop cars.
Before Ramon had known what was happening, he’d found himself thrown to the ground, arms wrenched behind him and pinned back with steel cuffs. No one would listen to a word he had to say. Instead, they’d hauled in everyone in the lot. It turned out that the fight had been called in as a gang action, which meant that the police were taking no chances, but the unfairness of the whole experience still smarted for Ramon.
He’d been a good kid, raised in church by strict, loving parents, destined for college and the fulfillment of the American Dream; yet he’d been thrown in the clink, identified as a possible gang member, questioned for hours and finally turned loose without so much as an apology. As a result of that single arrest, his college choices had been limited, and even though the charges had been dropped, the taint of possible gang involvement had followed him for years.
Ramon was proud of what he’d accomplished with his life. He felt that, fired by the indignity of injustice, he’d turned a negative experience into a worthwhile vocation. Yet he couldn’t quite forget or forgive what had been done to him. Just the shock and embarrassment that his parents had suffered because of his arrest could still cause his face to heat and his temper to rise.
Things had gotten a little better since his sister had married Zach. Ramon had to admit that Zach was definitely one of the good guys, and he’d helped Ramon see things from a different perspective. But not even Zach could change reality. The world, so far as Ramon was concerned, remained a biased, unfair place. It was not, in Ramon’s estimation, the sort of place that a wise, just, loving God would tolerate. If anything, Lori Sumner’s personal story reinforced that conviction for Ramon.
Groaning, he pinched the bridge of his nose and baldly admitted, “I wish I’d never gotten involved in this child-custody case.”
Zach made a sympathetic sound, sipping from the cup that the waitress had filled moments before. “It’s your calling to wield power for the powerless.”
Ramon had to smile. His brother-in-law had come to know him well. “My sympathies definitely lay with Yesenia, but…”
“You can’t help feeling sorry for Lori Sumner,” Zach surmised correctly.
Ramon swallowed. He owed Yesenia the very best legal representation that he could provide, and he had little doubt that he could win the case, but he couldn’t help regretting the pain that his actions were bound to cause Lori.
“I never thought I’d have to argue to take a child away from a woman whose only fault is in loving that child and wanting to give her a home,” he said softly.
“I hear you,” Zach remarked. “On one hand, the Diaz girl is the baby’s mother, and on the other, Lori just wants to give that baby a home. I’m glad it’s not up to me to decide who wins this one. Frankly, I’m not sure I could do it.”
Privately, Ramon wasn’t sure he could, either.
The waitress stopped by again to ask if Zach wanted to order something to eat.
“I had breakfast with my family this morning.”
His smile turned introspective, almost secretive, and all at once Ramon found himself strangely envious, which wasn’t like him at all. Ramon relished his solitude. Yes, he loved his extended family, and he had a very healthy appreciation for the opposite gender, but his single life was full and satisfying and easy, which was just what his demanding career required.
He asked for the check and dug out his wallet, tossing bills onto the table. The tip was overly generous, but he’d been coming into the Starlight Diner several times a week for years now. When he wasn’t dining out with some client or eating at his mami’s table, he generally took his meals here. It was convenient, comfortable and familiar. Plus, the food was uniformly good. It did, however, on occasion, get kind of old. Maybe that was what lay behind the recurring feeling of…emptiness. As if something was missing from his life. He shook his head.
“What?” Zach asked.
“Just too much work.”
“Well, we’ve got a long weekend coming up.”
Ramon had forgotten about the upcoming holiday weekend. His family always participated in the annual community Labor Day picnic in Winchester Park. This year it would be particularly good to get his mind off work. And Lori Sumner’s beautiful green eyes. Getting quickly to his feet, he prepared to take his leave.
“Guess I’ll see you Monday.”
Zach nodded and hooked an arm over the back of his chair. “Glad to hear it. Now if you’d just promise to turn up at church on Sunday, I could go home and tell my very pregnant and equally emotional wife that I have completed my assignment.”
Ramon arched an eyebrow. “So that’s what this is about. No chance meeting at all.”
Zach lifted a hand. “She’s worried that you might think the two of you are on opposite sides of this custody thing. It would do her a world of good just now if you’d—”
Ramon clapped a hand onto his brother-in-law’s shoulder, squeezing just a bit harder than was absolutely necessary. “You may tell my sister that I will see her on Monday,” he said, “and that if she had a lick of sense in her beautiful head she would stay home on Sunday and put her feet up.”
Zach snorted. “Kindly recall of whom you are speaking.”
Ramon grinned. “You are a good husband. For a gringo.”
“I don’t know about being a good husband. I do know that your sister loves you.”
“And I know that you love her,” Ramon told him softly.
Zach said nothing to that, but he didn’t have to. It was all there in his blue eyes, a serene wealth of emotion that permeated the very air around him with satisfaction and joy. Ramon began to understand just how cold and lonely a mate even a good cause could be.

Chapter Three
Sybil Williams proved to be a thin, well-dressed bundle of nervous energy who seemed younger than she actually was. Shrewd, forthright and honest, she weighed Lori’s chances of retaining custody of Lucia at no more than fifty percent, and only that because Yesenia Diaz was an illegal resident. She expressed surprise that Ramon Estes would involve himself in a custody case, required a modest retainer and encouraged Lori as best she could.
“Estes is a fine attorney,” she said, “but family law is not his specialty. Let me do a little research and get back to you in a few days. I’ll have a better idea then just what we’re dealing with.” She stood and reached across the desk to offer her hand, a clear dismissal. “Until then, try not to worry.”
Lori rose from her chair and took those slender, manicured fingers in her own, painfully aware that fighting Yesenia could cost thousands and thousands of dollars. She would worry about that later, though, trusting God to provide what she would need. It was all up to Him, anyway.
Ten minutes later she stepped out onto the Richmond sidewalk. Heat rose up to meet her from the concrete underfoot and bounced off the glass wall of the high-rise building behind her. She longed suddenly for home, Lucia and the shady streets of Chestnut Grove, but she knew that any respite to be found there was only temporary.
She could hardly believe that she’d just engaged an attorney and was about to join in a legal brawl. And for what? Why? That was the question that continually bedeviled her. For what reason would God put her through this?
Lord, she thought, heading back to work, help me to understand what is happening. I know You have a plan. You must have a plan. When You sent me to Mary and Fred, You had a plan. When You directed me to Chestnut Grove, You had a plan. When You brought Lucia to me, You must have had a plan. There has to be a reason, a purpose, for all this worry and fear. Help me to find it. Please.
Surely that plan could not be for her to lose Lucia. It couldn’t. It simply couldn’t.
Despite the heat, she felt a deep and numbing chill.
Pushing Lucia’s stroller along the walkway beneath the trees, Lori took a deep breath and sighed with pleasure. She loved the summertime with the aromas of freshly mowed grass and burgers grilling over hot coals.
Smiling, she thought of Mary and Fred and cook-outs in the backyard. Along with the burgers and the occasional steak, they’d given her laughter and lazy afternoons and the confidence to be herself, things she knew that she could give to Lucia—if allowed the opportunity.
But she wasn’t going to think of that today. For the next several hours she would take a holiday from worry. And what a glorious day to do it! Of all the holidays, Labor Day must surely offer the most spectacular weather, warm enough for outdoor activities, cool enough to simply bask in the sun.
Sunshine dappled the people and picnic tables scattered across the broad, tree-shaded greensward of Winchester Park. Some people were tossing a Frisbee in an open spot across the way, and two teams played softball on the field on the other side of the little lake at the center of the park. A few booths, decorated with bunting, surrounded one of the larger pavilions near the parking area.
As Lori watched, a large, yellow dog chased a duck into the pond and reemerged to shake water all over a queue of people waiting to rent rowboats. Lori laughed, feeling renewed and at peace. For now.
Movement in the corner of her eye had her turning her head. Kelly Van Zandt, looking cool in slender cropped pants and a fitted, sleeveless top that buttoned up the front over her pregnancy bulge, her multitoned hair caught up in a color-coordinated clip, waved to Lori from the gazebo. She was with a group of people that included her husband, Sandra Lange, Tony Conlon, Ben Cavanaugh and his nine-year-old daughter, Olivia.
Lori waved back and aimed the stroller in that direction. As she drew near, Kelly got up and came to meet her.
“Lori, how are you? I needn’t ask how Lucia is. She’s sleeping the sleep of the blameless, God love her.”
Lori peeked beneath the bonnet of the stroller and smiled to see the baby relaxed in that soft, boneless fashion that denoted deep, blissful slumber, her tiny mouth working an invisible nipple on an imaginary bottle.
“Must be all this fresh air,” Lori said. “That or I rushed her morning nap so we could get out here.”
“She looks so contented,” Kelly commented wistfully, her hands roaming over her distended belly. Then she seemed to recall what Lori was trying so hard to forget. Dropping her hand, she fixed Lori with a sympathetic gaze and lowered her voice. “I’ve wondered if you’d called Sybil Williams.”
“Yes. We met on Friday.”
Kelly breathed a relieved sigh. “Thank goodness. She really does know what she’s doing.”
“I’m sure of it, and you were right. I like her a lot.”
“Good, good. Well, I’ll rest a little easier on that score. Come and say hello to the others.”
She led Lori to the gazebo, Lori pushing the stroller. Sandra beamed a welcome at Lori from a lawn chair placed dead center of the gazebo’s plank floor, her sparkling brown eyes so like her daughter’s. The resemblance ended there, though.
In many ways, mother and daughter were exact opposites. Kelly was slim and neat, even a tad uptight, while at fifty-seven, Sandra was on the plump side and more than a bit flamboyant. She’d undoubtedly spent a small fortune on hair spray over the years. Today she wore a little triangular scarf over her normal puffy, teased-up style. The checked scarf matched perfectly the large S on the shoulder of the bright blue blouse that she wore over a long denim skirt.
Kelly had been one of the first children placed for adoption at Tiny Blessings. She and Sandra had realized their connection only last year during Ross’s investigation into Barnaby Harcourt’s misdeeds. As different as they were, the reunited mother and daughter had grown close, proof positive, to Lori’s mind, of how God worked in the lives of His children. A survivor of breast cancer, Sandra still wore a pink rubber bracelet in honor of her recovery.
Tony Conlon, Sandra’s “particular friend,” occupied the chair at her side. He wore jeans, a T-shirt and suspenders—though why he would need suspenders, given the size of his belly, Kelly couldn’t imagine. She chalked it up to his penchant toward small eccentricities. Lori found Tony to be a delight with his quick smile, quick wit and white hair and beard. She often stopped in his shop, Conlon’s Gift Emporium, just to exchange repartee with him.
“My favorite girl reporter!” Tony exclaimed, showing a lot of white enamel and winking broadly.
Lori laughed, partly because of the old joke, partly because she knew it pleased Tony. A widower whose only daughter lived in Florida, he was a likable, charming fellow and simply wild about Sandra Lange.
Lucky Sandra, Lori thought, envying the older woman such devotion. Inspiring such devotion seemed to be a family trait.
Ross Van Zandt stepped up next to his wife and slipped an arm around her shoulders. Lori sighed inwardly. She wanted that kind of love, but she accepted that it might not be God’s will for her. Lucia, however, clearly was, and that, she told herself sternly, was enough. If she could just keep Lucia with her, she wouldn’t ask for romance or anything else.
Olivia Cavanaugh skipped over to peek at the baby. “Awww, she’s so cute.” Lucia sighed and squirmed, rubbing her nose with one tiny fist, and Olivia giggled. “Joseph does that sometimes. Mama says a baby’s dreams are delivered on the flutter of angel wings, and that’s why they jerk and stuff, because the angel’s wings brush them.”
Lori smiled. Joseph, Ben and Leah Cavanaugh’s son, was only a couple months older than Lucia. “What a lovely thought.”
Ben stepped up and laid his big, capable hands atop his daughter’s narrow shoulders. “Now, don’t wake her, Livy.”
“Oh, Lucia is a champion sleeper,” Lori told him. “I sometimes think maybe she naps a little too much.”
Ben smiled. “I wish I could say that about Joseph. He kept us up all hours for months, and even now sometimes that boy just seems to vibrate with energy. I think he’s going to walk before he’s six months old.”
“Speaking of Joseph, where are he and Leah?” Lori asked.
Grinning, Ben jerked a thumb over one shoulder. “Leah’s putting out our lunch, with Joseph on her hip, no doubt, grabbing everything that comes within reach.” He shifted his gaze to the Van Zandts. “I just came by to let Kelly and Zach know that I’m making arrangements to meet my birth mother’s family.”
As a child Ben had been placed for adoption by Barnaby Harcourt, but until recently no one had known who his biological parents were. Records had recently been discovered during renovations hidden in a wall at the Harcourt Mansion, and Ben’s had been among them.
“Ben, that’s wonderful!” Lori blurted, thinking how blessed he was to have discovered family.
Of course he already had Olivia, his adopted parents and his adopted brother, Eli, who happened to be Lucia’s pediatrician, and now Leah and baby Joseph, not to mention his sister-in-law, Rachel, and brand-new niece, Madeleine. But Ben had suffered much loss in his life, too. Not only was Ben’s birth mother deceased, his first wife had died long ago—cancer, if Lori wasn’t mistaken. He must be thrilled to have found his biological siblings.
Lori would have fallen on her knees and cried out thanks to God if she had been so blessed. She was shocked to see the tall, muscular carpenter duck his dark head and look uncertain. He probably wished he hadn’t spoken up in front of her.
The trouble with being a reporter was that everyone always feared that they would see themselves in print if they weren’t careful. But surely they all knew this wasn’t news to her. Kelly and Ross had given her coworker Jared Kierney the story themselves, and Jared had passed the info on to her when she’d taken over the Tiny Blessings series from him. Both she and Jared had been very careful about what they’d used.
“Well, we better get back,” Ben said, nudging Olivia and backing away.
Tony made the observation, “Good man, that Ben Cavanaugh. Done a heap of work for me around the shop. Excellent carpenter.”
Murmurs of assent went around the small space as the Cavanaughs moved away.
Ross glanced at his wife, putting on a friendly face. “Can we have a private word, Lori?”
“Sure.” She looked down at the still sleeping baby, her hair sliding forward. Even held back from her face by a narrow elastic band, her hair constantly fell over one eye.
Sandra insisted that she and Tony be allowed to watch over Lucia while Lori and the Van Zandts spoke a few feet away.
“You don’t have to worry,” she told them. “I won’t be printing Ben’s plans on the front page of the Richmond Gazette.”
“Well, of course you won’t,” Kelly said dismissively. “We never thought you would.”
“That’s not your style,” Ross confirmed.
“Then what’s this about?” Lori asked, puzzled.
Ross lowered his voice to say, “We have a favor to ask, but first we want you to know that we’ll both understand if you don’t want to do it.”
“We would never ask you to compromise your integrity,” Kelly added.
“If only your competition had some,” Ross muttered darkly.
“You must be talking about yesterday’s Alton Kessler piece,” Lori surmised.
She’d read the story and knew for a fact that it wasn’t just unfair, it was at least partly false, and it attacked Kelly personally. Unfortunately it was just the latest in a steady stream of criticism and implied wrongdoing at the agency. No wonder the Van Zandts were upset. She would have been, too.
“We have to get at the root of these leaks and lies,” Kelly whispered.
“Do you think you could ask around, find out who Kessler’s source is?” Ross asked, coming to the point.
Lori parked her hands at her hips, striking a determined pose. “You leave it to me. I’ll go to Alton himself. I can’t promise that he’ll cooperate, but I do have a little leverage.”
Ross smiled wolfishly. “I knew we could count on you. I’m so pleased I won’t even ask what you’ve got on Kessler.”
Lori grinned. “Let’s just say that Alton would make a better novelist than journalist and I can prove it.”
Ross chuckled. “I don’t know why you haven’t already busted him, but I’m glad that it works in our favor.”
She shrugged. “I’m not the news police, and it’s a minor issue so far as the public goes. Besides, my paper isn’t in the business of outing their competition, although I doubt Alton even understands why the Gazette would hesitate to publish dirt on a fellow reporter. He certainly doesn’t care whether or not what he does reflects unfavorably on the rest of our profession, and I doubt his publisher does, either.”
Ross nodded. “I understand, and I thank you for using whatever leverage you have. Can you give me a call as soon as you talk to him?”
“No problem.”
They returned to the gazebo. Lucia was waking and making the sorts of noises guaranteed to embarrass any parent, much to the amusement of Sandra and Tony. Lori excused herself to go and change the baby. Afterward she gave Lucia a bottle and a good burping, then tucked her back into the stroller, content and smelling sweet, before setting off in search of Alton Kessler.
She pushed the stroller toward the parking area, intending to see if she could spot Alton’s luxury sedan. She was halfway there when she spied the Estes family arrayed around a picnic table draped with a cheery, vibrantly striped cloth.
Pilar, her pregnant stomach swollen, rested on a folding chaise longue, her bare feet peeking out from beneath the skirt of her bright, heavily embroidered dress, while her husband, Zach, helped their little almost-adopted-daughter, Adrianna, toss a blue plastic ball at her big brother, Eduardo, who brandished a fat, yellow plastic bat. Eduardo missed, but his grandparents applauded, nevertheless, from a blanket spread on the grass. Pilar laughed, caught sight of Lori and sat up straight, calling out to her.
“Hello, Lori! Come. Come, join us!”
Lori glanced at Ramon, who sat alone at the picnic table, which was spread with all manner of food. His head had jerked up at the sound of her name and he seemed to be drilling her with his black stare through his mirrored shades. Lori caught her breath, stunned by the muscular torso delineated by the close fit of a simple dark blue T-shirt. No wonder he looked so good in a suit, with those broad shoulders and that ripped chest.
Lori smiled, lifted a hand to Pilar in recognition and intended to pretend to have urgent business elsewhere, which she did, in a way. To her surprise, Ramon rose, stepped over the bench seat of the picnic table and calmly strode toward her with an easy, loose-hipped stride that made her gulp.
She thought of the mustard stain hidden beneath her red tank top from an earlier attempt at lunch and cringed inwardly. The man always made her feel grungy and unkempt. Her heartbeat sped up as he drew near. Then, just before he reached her, he removed his sunglasses. Glancing back at his sister, he finally spoke.
“Won’t you join us? Pilar will worry that you’re avoiding her, if you don’t.” His gaze met hers and the next instant he devastated her with a genuine smile. “Please. Otherwise, I might think you’re avoiding me,” he added, black eyes twinkling.
A bark of stunned laughter escaped Lori. His eyes crinkled at the outer corners with shared mirth, and she found herself utterly charmed. Mutely, she nodded and felt the warm glow of his pleasure sweep over her. She was already walking at his side, pushing the stroller, before she even asked herself what it could hurt to join the Estes family for a while. Surely it could only help her cause to show him what a devoted mommy she was. Provided, of course, that she didn’t sit drooling over his good looks like some besotted schoolgirl. Swallowing, she resolved to be unmoved.
“No, no, no,” Rita Estes admonished kindly, dishing another helping of black beans and rice onto Lori’s plate. “Eat! Eat! It is fiesta time.”
Sitting beside Lori on the bench at the table, Ramon chuckled. “For Mami, fiesta means food.”
Since Lori was already forking rice and shredded pork into her mouth, he assumed that she wasn’t too put out by his mother’s habitual need to feed everyone who came into her orbit.
“Mmm, this is so good, Mrs. Estes, and I was so hungry. Thank you.”
Over on the chaise, Pilar had Lucia in her lap, cooing happily while the kids and Zach looked on. Ramon had the strong sense that the Fletcher family was practicing for their own new arrival. Lori kept a watchful eye on the byplay, doing her best to appear unconcerned, though Ramon sensed that she could barely allow Lucia out of her grasp. Did she fear that he might snatch the baby and run with her to Yesenia?
The thought irked him. Clearly, he made her nervous; yet he could not deny that she seemed at ease with his family, chatting with his mother and sister, patiently answering the incessant questions of his niece and nephew, trading quips with his father and observations with his brother-in-law. Earlier she’d helped Adrianna toss the ball to Eduardo, who’d finally made contact with his bat, much to the delight of the adults. With Lucia tucked up against her side, Lori had then walked Pilar to the ladies’ room, one of several trips his pregnant sister had made in the past couple of hours, and upon her return had succumbed graciously to his mother’s attempts to feed her.
Mami refilled Lori’s glass of lemonade, wiped her hands on the dish towel tied around her trim waist and smoothed the lay of her salt-and-pepper bob, the thick bangles at her wrists tinkling merrily. “Salvador,” she called to her husband, who immediately began hauling himself up from the blanket on which he reclined, “chop some ice, eh, from the block in the little cooler.”
“I’ll do it,” Ramon said, waving his father down and reaching for the ice pick.
Rita snatched it up before he could get his hand on it. “Ah, ah, ah.” In Spanish she told him to entertain his “bonita amiga.”
From the widening of her eyes, he concluded that Lori understood at least those two words, but he did not correct his mother by telling her that Lori Sumner was definitely not his “pretty friend.” His mother nattered on, in English, thankfully, about how Ramon worked too hard and his father was used to a certain amount of physical labor at the hardware shop that they owned and operated on Main Street.
Dutifully, Salvador rose to do as his wife requested, and Ramon just as dutifully subsided. Behind him, Lucia suddenly let out a wail. Lori shot to her feet, had the baby in hand and returned to her seat before he even managed to pivot around.
“There, there, sweetheart.” She quieted the child with an expert pat and jiggle.
“Was it something I did?” Pilar inquired worriedly.
“No, of course not. She’s been a little fussy lately, that’s all. Eli says she’s too young to be teething, so we’ve switched her formula, but since she hasn’t run a temperature or exhibited any other symptoms of illness, we’re assuming it’s just a phase she’s going through.” She lifted the baby and brought her nose-to-little-nose. “You’re a growing girl, aren’t you, precious? Before I know it you’ll be running circles around me.”
The baby cooed and got both of her little hands into Lori’s hair. Pilar laughed delightedly, obviously looking forward to just such a scene with her own infant. Lori tucked the baby into the crook of her arm and tickled her belly through the thin cotton of her pink-and-white polka-dotted dress. Lucia squirmed and kicked out with both feet, dislodging a soft white shoe piped with pink ribbon. Ramon bent and quickly swiped it up from the dirt. Rising, he handed it to Lori.
“Thanks.”
Somehow, while the rest of them watched and with only one hand, she managed to get that tiny shoe back onto that constantly moving little foot. Lucia waved her arms and cooed as if in congratulations. Ramon looked away, struck to the heart by the domestic picture.
Lori seemed to be a natural mother, her love for children, Lucia, in particular, painfully obvious. Crouching beside her, he thought of Yesenia, wondering if she was truly capable of giving Lucia the same level of care as Lori. Perhaps Lucia should stay with Lori, after all. It would certainly be best for Lori. But what then of Yesenia? Ramon no longer felt certain that he knew the right answers in this case.
Of course, his opinion didn’t really matter. A judge would be the one to decide. Ramon’s job was merely to present the case, but, watching Lori now, he had to wonder if he was the right lawyer for the job.
He felt sorry for Yesenia. He truly did, but he did not want to be party to removing a child, any child, from Lori’s care. He didn’t want to have to use Lori’s past against her. He didn’t want to be responsible for causing her more pain. Most of all, he did not want to be considered her adversary. Just the opposite, in fact.
It all meant that he could not adequately represent Yesenia.
He had to resign the case.
Relief swept through him. A weight he hadn’t known he carried lifted from his shoulders. Both reinforced his conclusion. He must resign. He no longer had any business representing Yesenia in this.
Ethically he should tell Yesenia of his decision first, but Ramon wanted Lori to know right away. Perhaps it was selfish on his part, he mused, watching the way she flipped her glossy, full-bodied hair out of Lucia’s reach. No, it was definitely selfish on his part. His resignation wouldn’t really change anything for anyone but him.
Yesenia had a strong case and she would undoubtedly hire another attorney; he was duty-bound to recommend one. In fact, he already had a name in mind—proof, he supposed, that he’d been considering this move on some level before he’d dared even acknowledge it to himself.
He looked at Lori, so fit and trim in her modest shorts and double tank, her bare feet shod in sensible running shoes, her thick, sleek hair held back by a thin, stretchy red band and her smile lighting her pretty face. She wore not a dab of cosmetics today, her lashes glinting dark gold around her light green eyes, her full, lush lips a natural, dusky rose.
Suddenly it seemed imperative that he make her understand that they were no longer to be considered adversaries. Wondering where they might find a moment of privacy, he stood and reached down, pulling her up bedside him, one hand fixed firmly beneath her upper arm.
She gaped at him, but then she blinked and, maddeningly, her gaze slid right past him. The next thing he knew she’d disengaged herself and was carrying Lucia toward the stroller.
“I have to go,” she said. “Thank you so much for a lovely lunch, Rita. Have a good day, everyone!”
While his family called out farewells, Ramon went after her. He reached her side and barely stopped himself from grasping the handle of the stroller to keep her in place. She glanced up, surprise and something very like alarm flashing across her face, but then she turned her attention back to settling Lucia in the stroller, and he knew that he had to do—say—something.
“I’ll, um, walk with you.”
She opened her mouth as if she might actually object, but then she glanced once more over her shoulder, shrugged and took off. “Suit yourself.”
He barely had time to flip a wave at his family before following. Wherever they were off to, they were getting there quickly, as quickly as a baby and stroller would allow. Ramon shrugged inwardly and picked up his pace, as curious as determined now.

Chapter Four
“I take it we’re not out for a casual stroll,” Ramon observed dryly, catching up to Lori as she paused to look around.
She startled as if she’d forgotten he even existed. Ramon set his teeth, torn between irritation and pure chagrin. Baby Lucia made a mewling sound and Lori instantly—and conveniently—responded. “It’s okay, sweetie.”
After adjusting the baby’s safety harness, Lori set off at a slower pace, her gaze sweeping the area once more. Ramon considered just letting her go, but for some reason he found himself falling into step beside her. Suddenly she veered the stroller to the right, picking up speed again.
Ramon followed her line of gaze and caught sight of a jostling group of people. At its center stood a tall, slender, raven-haired man wearing a gray sport jacket over a paler polo shirt and matching slacks. The man flashed a practiced, brilliant white smile at a petite woman who thrust a scrap of paper at him. That’s when Ramon recognized him as the host of a popular local television talk show, Douglas Matthews.
Ramon had forgotten that Matthews would be filming his show from the park today. He’d read about it in the newspaper, but he rarely had time for watching television himself, especially daytime television, so the notice hadn’t made much impression on him. That apparently was not the case with the press, however.
Scuttlebutt had it that the show, Afternoons with Douglas Matthews, would soon go national. With his blue-eyed good looks and suave manner, Matthews drew attention like honey drew flies; naturally, that garnered interest from the press corps. Add in talk of national syndication, and it became a veritable circus.
Obviously, Lori intended to join the throng following the TV personality. Ramon felt a pang of disappointment. Somehow he’d thought Lori was above that kind of thing. She just didn’t seem the sort who’d idealize celebrities. Yet her attention had definitely fixed on Matthews, because as the TV host moved along the gently winding path toward a cordoned-off set in the distance, Lori went after him at a near run, jogging along behind the stroller.
Matthews stopped to work the crowd again, hastily signing autographs while reporters peppered him with questions and he tossed off answers. Ramon let his feet carry him to Lori’s side once more, not that she seemed to notice. She’d gone up on tiptoe to get a better look.
“Is the show going national?” someone asked.
“Let’s just say the chances are looking better and better.”
“When is the show going national?”
“Soon, I hope.”
“Care to tell us which network?”
“I’d love to tell you which network, but I’m not allowed.”
“How do your wife and son feel about you stepping up into the big time?”
That question, for some reason, elicited a visceral response. Ramon could actually feel the shift in Matthews. His head came up sharply and for a moment that high-wattage smile dimmed. The talk-show host quickly reverted to type, but the smile looked a tad strained now.
“They’re just fine with it. In fact, they’re excited about it. Why wouldn’t they be?”
“I see they’re absent today. That’s getting to be a habit, isn’t it?”
The reporter who’d asked the telltale questions slouched casually over his pad and pen, but the pose did nothing to diminish the sense of poisonous innuendo. Though balding and slight, with narrow, sloping shoulders, the fellow put Ramon in mind of a shark. Having scented blood in the water often enough himself, Ramon recognized the species.
The TV star lost his smile, his eyes narrowing, but the next instant Matthews was “on” again, all affable charm. His voice smoothed, resonating parental concern.
“My son’s got a little sunburn. You know how it is. Four-year-olds are sensitive. We were tossing a ball around in the backyard and lost track of time. Nothing serious, but we didn’t want him out in the sun again today. Like I told my wife, we don’t want to set the boy up for skin cancer twenty years down the road, now do we?”
Ramon had to hand it to the guy. He’d wielded the brush adroitly, taking the teeth out of the innuendo and painting himself as a conscientious family man in the same stroke. Yet, the picture struck Ramon as fatuous. Matthews reinforced that impression by turning abruptly, announcing that he was needed elsewhere and quickly striding away.
A dozen or so die-hard admirers followed him. The reporter who’d brought him to heel stayed behind, however, scribbling madly on his pad. Lori turned to Ramon.
“Stay here.”
He cocked his head, surprised that she was even aware of his presence. Besides, it had been, well, years since anyone, in or out of a judge’s robe, had given him such a blunt, direct order. Feeling rather like an obedient pet, Ramon stayed put and watched Lori push the stroller toward, not the attractive local celebrity, but the thin-haired, slope-shouldered reporter. Coming to a halt, Lori reached out and plucked a small tape recorder from the fellow’s shirt pocket. He made a grab for it, but Lori appeared to switch it off before handing it back.
What followed became an increasingly animated conversation carried out in harsh whispers, with much tense head-shaking on the man’s part and a lot of arm-folded insistence on Lori’s. The way the fellow kept looking around told Ramon that he did not want their argument overheard.
When the man shook a threatening finger in Lori’s face, Ramon actually stepped forward, but she gave back just as good as she got, poking the fellow in the chest until suddenly he threw up his hands in obvious capitulation. After a moment Lori inclined her head in a gracious, satisfied manner and then she turned around and strolled toward Ramon, smiling.

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