Baby Of Convenience. Diana Whitney
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“Very amusing.” That same traitorous muscle twitched along his jaw. “I’m familiar with the biological process of feline reproduction. What bewilders me is the process by which this particular feline chose to complete the process—” his voice rose, startling Jamie “—in my basement.”
“Wine cellar,” Laura corrected him, then turned her attention to comforting her son, whose lip was quivering. “There, there, sweetie, it’s okay.” Tears gleamed in the baby’s wide brown eyes. He hiccuped, gulped and emitted a thin wail of distress. Laura hugged him, coaxed a damp strand of sable hair from his moist baby forehead. “Shh, Mama is here, everything is all right.”
Royce frowned. “Is the child ill?”
“No. Loud voices frighten him.”
Clearly stunned, Royce rocked back a step, regarding the trembling toddler with unabashed shock. “I caused the child’s distress?”
“Not deliberately, of course. Jamie just…” She allowed the words to dissipate, unwilling to divulge details of the experiences that had led her beloved child to quake with fear at the sound of a booming male voice.
“I’m so sorry.”
Genuine remorse cracked his dispassionate demeanor, a tiny flaw of humanity that surprised her.
Before she could study it more intently, he rearranged his features, focused on the baby and spoke with exaggerated gentleness. “Please forgive me, young man. It was not my intention to upset you.”
A moist streak stained the child’s pink cheek. Jamie eyed the impeccably groomed stranger who had paused several feet away as if fearing to step any closer. “Me firsty,” the toddler whined.
“Are you now? That is something we can certainly rectify.” With that tantalizing hint of a smile, Royce strode to a wall by the curving wrought-iron staircase and flipped an intercom switch.
A moment later, a taut, familiar female voice replied. “Yes, Mr. Burton?”
“Marta, please bring a pitcher of orange juice to the cellar.”
“Orange juice?” came the bewildered reply.
“Hold on a moment.” He glanced at Laura. “Would you or the child prefer something else? I can offer an assortment of fruit juices. Also, coffee, iced tea, your choice of carbonated beverage or wine, if you’d like.”
“No, thank you. Orange juice would be lovely.”
“Something to eat, perhaps? Is the child hungry?”
“That’s kind of you, but it’s nearly his lunchtime. A snack would spoil his appetite.”
“Very well.” He turned back toward the intercom. “That will be all, Marta. Thank you.”
After clicking off the speaker switch, Royce pursed his lips thoughtfully, casting first a quick look at Laura and Jamie, then glancing over his shoulder to the cozy nest where a purring, contented Maggie was in the process of bathing a mewing ball of orange-and-white fluff.
Laura followed his gaze. “My best guess is that the kittens are about one week old. Maggie disappeared for several days, and when she finally returned, it was obvious that she was no longer pregnant. I’ve been following her for days to find her birthing nest.”
“I see.” He studied the mother cat’s methodical grooming of her brood for a moment. “I’m certainly no expert on feline behavior, but I was under the impression that most animals chose a location in which they feel safe and comfortable for such an, er, auspicious event.”
“Yes, well, I’m afraid poor Maggie feels neither safe nor comfortable in our temporary living quarters. You see, we had to…I mean, we chose to move from an apartment in the downtown district to share a mobile home with a friend.”
Chose to move. A clever euphemism for eviction, which didn’t escape the astute Royce Burton’s notice if the knowing gleam in his eye was any clue.
“At any rate, the accommodations are rather cramped, and my friend has two older children who didn’t mean to torment Maggie, although she understandably had little tolerance for them, given her delicate condition.”
He nodded politely. “These temporary living quarters, might they be included in the mobile home park to the south of the grounds?”
Presuming he was referring to his own expansive property when he used the word grounds, Laura nodded. “It’s just temporary,” she repeated lamely. “Until we can find something that suits our needs.”
Something that was basically free, since she was currently unemployed. She’d had the audacity to slap the roving hand of her supervisor, and had been summarily dismissed from her job as a discount store clerk. At the time she’d worn her termination as a badge of honor. Now she saw it only as having sawed off her own breathing appendage. It wasn’t as if she had the luxury of pride now. She had a child to consider, a child whose mother was unemployed and teetering on the brink of bankruptcy.
Royce regarded her. “Sharing such modest living accommodations with another family must be difficult for you and your husband.”
“I’m divorced.” Laura’s reply was issued with more firmness than intended.
Instantly Royce’s eyes cooled in disapproval. “I see. And your friend, is he also divorced?”
“As a matter of fact, she—” Laura stressed the gender-specific pronoun and was satisfied by his guilty cringe “—is happily married, although her husband is on a temporary work assignment out of town.”
He issued a curt, apologetic nod. “Forgive the errant presumption.”
“As I said, the living arrangements are purely temporary. Unfortunately, there is hardly enough room for the people, let alone six animals.”
“May I presume that you are financially unable to secure alternative living quarters?”
That was an understatement. “The truth is that even if I found a job tomorrow it would be months before I could save up enough money to make a deposit on a larger place.”
Laura couldn’t fathom why she was telling him this, but the words nonetheless streamed out as if this powerful and put-upon individual was actually interested in the life story of a virtual stranger.
A thin laugh slipped from her lips, high-pitched and embarrassingly desperate. “I know this isn’t your problem. You can’t possibly care about my little trials and tribulations. It’s just that I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do about Maggie and her babies.”
“Aren’t there shelters for this kind of occurrence?”
Laura was horrified. “I could never put Maggie’s babies in an animal shelter.”
“Why not? That’s what they are there for.”
“They are there to take pets that nobody wants, and if they can’t find homes for them, to put them humanely out of their misery.”
From the corner of her eye she saw Royce stiffen, and was relieved to note that he didn’t detest cats enough to be immune to the horror of euthanizing healthy animals because nobody wants them.
Laura pressed her advantage. “There’s no way to find good homes for the kittens until they’re old enough to leave their mother. I mean, their little eyes aren’t even open yet.” She paused, swallowed hard. “Meanwhile, I clearly have a bit of a problem.”
“Clearly,” Royce agreed.
As Laura was mentally formulating what to say next, Marta descended the stairs carrying a frosty crystal pitcher of orange juice.
Obviously unhappy, the woman thumped the pitcher on the table, then glanced toward the corner and spotted the feline family. “Oh, Mother of God!” she shrieked. “What are those creatures doing here?”