Barbara Dunlop - One Baby, Two Secrets

“I’m serious,” Will said, setting down the controller. “You can’t mess with those guys.”

“They already messed with me.”

Will uttered an exclamation of disgust. “You’re going to get all macho about it?”

“I’m not getting macho. What I’m getting is smart. If we can’t infiltrate the company, then we’ll come at it from another angle, through Quentin. The man drinks and parties to excess. He’s not as sharp as he should be, and I’ve succeeded in becoming his new pal.”

“That’s because you’re pretending to be exciting and likable.”

“I like to think I’m generally both,” Brody said with a straight face.

Will flashed a grin. “Right. Sure. Let’s call you that. But you can’t expect to meet Quentin Roo’s standards.”

“I’m definitely not the life of some parties,” Brody said. He had absolutely no desire to be the life of Quentin’s parties.

His phone buzzed on the low table in front of him.

Will stayed silent while he picked it up.

“Blane,” he answered warmly. He didn’t have any good news for his brother, but he was still glad to hear from him.

Blane coughed into the phone. “Hi, Brody.”

Brody was immediately concerned. “What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

Blane coughed again. “It’s nothing. Mother has me steaming in the bathroom.”

Brody relaxed a little, since he knew that at the first sign of a problem their mother would hover over Blane. He glanced at his watch. “It’s late there.”

“Have you signed up to be my nanny?”

“If you’re sick—”

“A tickle in my chest is not sick. I’m humoring her. I don’t need to humor you.”

“Okay.”

“Oliver Masterson came by today.”

The information gave Brody pause. Oliver Masterson was the head architect on the family’s hotel development project. Oliver shouldn’t have much to do at the moment, because it was a long-term plan, with nothing substantive happening for years down the road. Brody thought they were all clear on the timing.

He spoke to his brother in a cautious tone. “We’re only looking for preliminary drawings right now.”

“We were. We are,” said Blane. “He only wanted to see the site. He likes the view of the lake.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

The east meadow was one of Brody’s favorite spots on the entire three-hundred-acre estate. If he’d had his way, they’d have built a house there and turned the castle into a hotel. But his mother wouldn’t hear of moving from the family’s traditional home.

“He wants the building to go higher,” said Blane.

“Higher than three stories?”

“I know that puts us into a whole new category of construction. But we need to think of the long term, our children’s children and beyond. The high-end market provides the best return on investment.”

“You’ve been talking to the town council again.” A large, five-star hotel on the Calder lands would have spin-off effects to any number of local businesses.

Blane coughed again. “You know they’re right.”

“I understand where you’re coming from, Blane.”

“And you agree with me.”

Brody did agree. Like their ancestors before them, they had an obligation to support the surrounding community. He agreed there was growth potential in luxury tourism. The only problem he had was cash flow. They needed significant cash to flow in order to underwrite his brother’s dream. Right now, they didn’t have it.

“Don’t sign anything today,” he said.

“I won’t. Are you close?” Blane knew only the broad strokes of the problem with Beast Blue Designs. He didn’t know how precarious their financial situation had become.

“Getting closer,” said Brody, knowing he was going to have to make something happen soon or confess to his family the full extent of their problems.

“Let me know how it goes.” Blane’s coughing started again.

“I will. Get better.”

Blane wheezed out a laugh. “I’m in good hands.”

Brody couldn’t help but smile as he set down the phone. Their mother the countess was a force of nature.

“Problem?” asked Will.

“They want to make the hotel bigger.”

“Let me guess. They accomplish that by spending more money.”

“I knew you weren’t just a pretty face.” Brody suddenly felt tired and momentarily defeated. “It’s always about more money. We need to win this thing, Will. And we need to do it soon.”

“Okay,” said Will, squaring his shoulders. “Let’s hope Quentin is the kind of guy who brings his work home with him. If you can get in front of his home computer, I can tell you what to look for. But don’t get caught, and whatever you do don’t get shot by the Russian bodyguards.”

Brody frowned. “I have no intention of getting shot.”

“Nobody plans to get shot,” said Will. “It happens all of a sudden and usually at the most inconvenient time.”

Three

Kate had wrangled an invitation back to Quentin’s Sunday night. She had been hoping to talk to him alone and maybe even meet Annabelle. But she’d been disappointed on both fronts.

Annabelle had been put to bed by the nanny before Kate arrived, and Quentin didn’t even show his face. His friends didn’t seem to care, though, guzzling liquor, dancing on the furniture and frolicking in the pool to music from a live band in the gazebo.

She’d had no desire to party, but she was more determined than ever to meet Annabelle. So when she saw a woman passed out on a sofa, she’d come up with an idea. As the party wore down, she found a quiet corner and pretended to do the same.

There was no way she was dozing off amidst intoxicated strangers. So she lay there awake until 4:00 a.m. when the last guests had stumbled away.

Chilled and exhausted, she’d finally closed her eyes.

At five, the cleaners showed up and began straightening the furniture and clearing up the debris—empty bottles, broken glass, garbage and cigarette butts discarded everywhere. At six, they turned on vacuum cleaners and began to filter the pool water.

Giving up on the idea of sleeping, Kate found a bathroom. She gazed at her smudged makeup, mussed hair and the dark circles under her eyes. Lack of sleep made her look exactly like a woman who’d partied too hard two nights in a row. It was depressing, but there was no denying it would help her disguise. She ran a comb through her hair and wiped away the worst of the mascara smudges, then her thoughts turned to coffee.

As she moved down the hallway, she heard a woman’s voice chirping happily about it being a beautiful day and how she was warming a bottle that would be delicious. Kate guessed it had to be the nanny talking to Annabelle. Her chest swelled with anticipation, and she picked up her pace, following the voice.

“You look so pretty this morning,” the nanny singsonged. “Such a smiley girl.”

Kate moved through the archway into a bright, airy kitchen, to see a young woman in blue jeans and an orange T-shirt, holding a baby against one shoulder and a bottle in the opposite hand.

“Are you hungry?” the young woman asked Annabelle in a gentle voice, and then she spotted Kate.

“Oh,” she said, her expression sobering. “Hello. I didn’t realize anyone was here.”

“Leftover from last night,” Kate offered in an apologetic tone, smoothing a hand over her messy hair.

“Can I help you with something?” the woman asked, her voice and manner becoming reserved.

Kate couldn’t keep her gaze from Annabelle. The baby girl had blond hair and big blue eyes in a sweet, delicate-looking face. Her pink mouth was perfect, and she was dressed in a white romper dotted with colored hearts.