Jennifer Greene - Millionaire M.D.

“Okay.”

“And there’s another family on the foster-care list…” She pushed her fork around fretfully. “On paper, they’re qualified. In reality, we’ve never put a child with them. He…smells. She dresses vintage Victorian to scrub her bathroom. I’m not saying anything’s that terrible, but there seem to be some raisins missing in their bran, you know? They claim to desperately want kids, that they can’t have their own, be happy to foster. But I’m telling you-”

“Angel isn’t going there.” Justin, God love him, didn’t waste time phrasing the comment as a question.

Again, her shoulders eased. He understood. “I realize that doesn’t mean that I’m the best choice to take care of the baby. Or that I’m entitled. In any way. But-”

“Oh, shut up, Win. You don’t have to justify anything to me.” He peeked at the snoozing baby as he started wolfing his burger. “So keep on talking. What’s happened so far with the parent search? I take it you haven’t found the baby’s mother?”

“God knows, I’m trying.”

“But…?”

She started filling him in. Leading her mom-suspect list were a couple of teenage girls. Both troubled. Both had histories of drinking and truancy. Both came from rich families where the parents had recently shipped them off to residential ranches. “You know the kind of place I’m talking about. They have a dry-out program, but it’s also a live-in school, all the academics. The idea is to remove the kids from the environment that was contributing to their trouble, see if professionals and positive peers can’t help turn the kids around.”

“Actually, I don’t know anything about those places, but it’s obvious you do.”

“Yeah. And some of them are excellent. Kids do take a wrong turn sometimes. Especially if they can’t get away from bad peer influences on their own. The only thing that ticks me off is how expensive they are, it’s not like everyone can take advantage. But, anyway, on those two specific girls-neither of them was pregnant, according to their parents.”

“Which means…?”

“Which means nothing. The parents could be lying, thinking that they’re protecting their daughters. So I can’t be sure until I’ve checked that out, and that’s going to take longer than overnight.” She lifted a forkful of cheddar cheese mashed potatoes, but then let it drop again. “In the meantime, I picked up news about another kid. Parents live in a trailer park, dad works in the oil fields, girl got pregnant at fourteen, supposedly had the baby in the family trailer and it died. Only maybe the baby didn’t die. Maybe that’s what the girl said to avoid trouble, and if so, and if her child was Angel, then it could well have fetal alcohol syndrome-at best. But right now, I have no grounds to haul in the girl and force her to take a medical exam.” She glared at Justin. “I’m almost positive that this girl isn’t Angel’s mother. But if she were…then either of those foster-care families would be the worst place to put a baby with those kinds of special problems.”

“I hear you. You’re saying you’d want to take in Angel even more if you thought she had special problems. Not less. But in the meantime, how come you’re so positive that that one girl isn’t Angel’s mom?”

“Well, I can’t be positive -but whoever is the mom of that baby knew me personally. She had to. I mean, she not only left the baby at my house, but left a personal note to me. And I didn’t know that kid in the trailer park from Adam-or anyone in her family.” Sheila stopped by the table, delivered the warmed bottle and two gigantic pieces of pie, but when she couldn’t get another conversation going, moved on again. “I spent hours in the schools today. And on the computer. Found three runaways. Six truant cases. I’m still trying to follow up on all of them. Then I hit the docs, the clinics, the obstetricians, Planned Parenthood. I swear I could smack ’em all upside the head. None of those people talk. They’d guard the confidentiality of a kid in trouble no matter what. It’s like trying to get blood out of a turnip. So then I tried calling ministers and priests and rabbi Rachel-”

He glanced over at her plate, and stole some of the chops she wasn’t eating.

“They’ve all got worry-lists of girls or kids they think are promiscuous. But whether any of those girls were for sure pregnant at the time Angel’s mom had to be-no one knows. One minister gave me a couple of names to check out. So did one of the vice principals at the high school.”

“But…?” He held out a tidbit of pork chop on a fork, until she bit into it and chewed.

“But it could be an adult woman. It’s not like the mother had to be a teenager.” She swallowed, only to have the exasperating man nudge another bite toward her mouth. “So I called the women’s shelter. Asked if anyone was pregnant at the time Angel’s mom had to be. Since this woman knew my name, I keep thinking that if I could just get some clues, some ideas, I might recognize her in some way. And I’m looking for a grown-up now, a woman with the means to hide a pregnancy, but for some reason feels she can’t keep her baby. Unfortunately, the people at the shelter were as bad as the doctors. Angel’s mom could have been right there, but no one was about to tell me. I understand confidentiality. I believe in it, for Pete’s sake. Only it’s been days now, and I can’t get a solid lead to save my life.”

“Win,” Justin stopped trying to coax her into more food. “Are you positive that you want a lead?”

The question startled her. “Are you asking me if I’d drag my feet because of wanting the baby for myself?” She shook her head, fast, fiercely. “I admit I’ve fallen in love with her. I know it’s only been three days, but I swear she already feels like she’s mine. But there’s only one way I can make this right, Justin. To find the mom. To know what the whole story is. Then to legally go after doing whatever’s right for Angel. I admit, I want her. But there’s still only one way to drive down this street, and that’s the right way. You know how it is. The truth’ll come back to bite you in the butt if you don’t face it down to start with.”

“Um, is that a Texas saying?”

She grinned. “No, but it should be, don’t you think?”

“What I think, Ms. Raye, is that you’ve got too much on your plate-and that’s a problem that you’d be really, really stupid not to let me help you with. What the hell good is it to have a friend with a ton of money unless you use him now and then? You know my house. You know Myrt, my housekeeper. And while you’re trying to work full-time-”

“No,” she interrupted firmly.

“No? No? This ‘no’ is in reference to what? I never asked you a question.”

Since Sheila was nowhere in sight, Winona got up herself and carted their plates to the old Formica counter, out of their way. The baby was still snoozing, but starting to stir. With a little more space, she could use a hand to keep the baby carrier in a gentle, rocking motion, but her gaze stayed glued on Justin’s. “Somehow you managed to get me talking all this time about Angel and my problems, Doc. But that isn’t why I wanted to see you today.”

She could see him brace, his eyes pick up a wary glint. “Yeah. I suspect you wanted to talk to me about weddings.”

She nodded. “You’re not going to bamboozle me into a marriage, Doc,” she said gently.

“Do you think you’re announcing something I didn’t know? Why on earth would I want to bamboozle you into anything?”

But she was all through being fooled by that easy, lazy teasing tone. “That’s exactly what confounded me for the last few days. Trying to understand. You’ve asked me to marry you a gazillion times, but I always knew you didn’t mean it. I mean, it’s one of our favorite private jokes together. But this time-you sounded serious. So then I started thinking. Maybe something was really bothering you.” She watched his eyes. “I know something happened to you in Bosnia.”