The Baby Inheritance

Spring was his half sister on his father’s side and five years younger than Reed. She’d always been so bright, so happy, so damn trusting. And now she was gone.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it so abruptly.”

Shaking his head, he stared into those eyes of hers. So blue, they were nearly violet. They shone with sympathy he didn’t want and didn’t need. His pain was private. Not something he would share with anyone, let alone a stranger.

To cover the turmoil raging within, he said simply, “There is no way to soften news like that.”

“You’re right. Of course, you’re right.” Those eyes shifted, changed with her emotions, and now he read grief of her own mingling with a simmering anger in their depths.

He was no more interested in that than he was in her sympathy.

“What happened to my sister?”

“There was a car accident,” she said simply. “Someone ran a red light...”

His eyes narrowed. “Drunk driver?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head and patting the baby’s back all at once. “An elderly man had a heart attack. He was killed in the accident, as well.”

So there was no one to hold responsible. No one to be furious with. To blame. Reed was left with an impotent feeling that he didn’t care for.

“You said this happened two months ago,” he said quietly, thoughtfully. “Why are you only coming to me now?”

“Because I didn’t know about you,” she said, then looked around the office. “Look, the baby needs a change. Do you mind if we take this conversation over to the couch?”

“What?”

She was already headed for his black leather sofa. Before he could say anything, she’d set the infant down and reached into what had to be a diaper bag slung over her shoulder for supplies.

Struck dumb by the action, he only watched as she expertly changed the baby’s diaper, then handed the folded-up used one to him. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Reluctantly, it seemed, her mouth curved and damned if he didn’t like the look of it.

“Um,” she said wryly, “I’d go for throwing it away.”

Stupid. Of course. He glanced at his small office trash can, then shook his head, crossed to the door and opened it. Signaling to his assistant, he held out the diaper and ordered, “Dispose of this.”

“Yes, sir.” Karen accepted the diaper as she would have an explosive device, then turned away.

Once the door was closed again, Reed looked at the baby, now standing alongside the glossy black coffee table, smacking both hands on the surface and laughing to herself. Shaking his head, he thought of Spring and felt another quick twinge of pain. Still watching the baby, he asked Lilah, “What did you mean you didn’t know about me until now?”

She tossed that thick mass of wavy red-gold hair behind her shoulder and looked up at him as she repacked the baby’s supplies. “I mean, that until last week, I didn’t know Spring had a family. She never talked about you. About any relatives at all. I thought she was alone.”

That stung more than he would have thought possible. His sister had wiped him from her life? So much so that her best friend didn’t even know of his existence? He scrubbed one hand across his face and regretted that last conversation with his sister. Maybe he could have been kinder. More understanding. But he’d assumed, as he supposed everyone did, that there would be more time. That he would, once again, be called on to dig Spring out of trouble, and so he’d been impatient and now she was gone and the chance to make things right had vanished with her.

“She left two letters,” Lilah said and held out an envelope toward him. “I read mine. This one is yours.”

Reed took it, checked that it was still sealed, then noted Spring’s familiar scrawl across the front. He glanced at the baby, still entertaining herself, then he opened the envelope and pulled out the single sheet of paper.

Reed. If you’re reading this, I’m dead. God, that’s a weird thought. But if Lilah brought you this letter, she’s also brought you my daughter. I’m asking you to take care of her. Love her. Raise her. Yes, I know I could ask Mom or one of my sisters, but honestly, you’re the only one in our family I can really count on.

Well, that hit him hard, considering that in their last conversation he hadn’t given her the help she’d wanted. Gritting his teeth, he went back to the letter.

Rosie needs you, Reed. I’m trusting you to do the right thing because you always do. Lilah Strong has been my friend and my family for almost two years, so play nice. She’s also been Rosie’s “other mother,” so she can answer any questions you have and she can be a big help to you.

As usual, you were right about Coleman. He left as soon as I got pregnant. But before he left, I got him to sign away his rights to Rosie. She doesn’t need him in her life.

I love you, Reed, and I know Rosie will, too. So thanks in advance—or from the grave. Whichever. Spring.

He didn’t know whether to smile or howl. The letter was so like Spring—making light of a situation that most people wouldn’t think about. In seconds, vignettes of Spring’s life raced through Reed’s mind. He saw her as a baby, a child who followed him around whenever they were together, a teenager who loved nothing more than shocking her parents and finally, a woman who never found the kind of love she’d always searched for.

He folded the paper slowly, then tucked it away again before he let himself look at Spring’s child. The baby was clearly well cared for, loved...happy.

Now it was up to him to see that she stayed that way. At that thought everything in Reed went cold and still. He knew what his duty was. Knew what Spring would expect of him. But damned if he knew a thing about babies.

“I see panic in your eyes.”

Instantly, Reed’s normal demeanor dropped over him. He sent Lilah a cool stare. “I don’t panic.”

“Really?” she said, clearly not believing him. “Because your expression tells me you’re wishing Rosie and I were anywhere but here.”

He didn’t appreciate being read so easily. Reed had been told by colleagues and judges alike that his poker face was the best in the business. Knowing one small baby and one very beautiful woman had shattered his record was a little humbling. But no need to let her know that.

“You’re wrong. What I’m wondering is what I’m going to do next.” And that didn’t come easy to him, either. Reed always had a plan. And a backup plan. And a plan to use if the backup failed. But at the moment, he was at a loss.

“What you’re going to do?” The woman stood up, smiled down at the baby then turned a stony stare on him. “You’re going to take care of Rosie.”

“Obviously,” he countered. The question was, how? Irritated, he pushed one hand through his hair and muttered, “I’m not exactly prepared for a baby.”

“No one ever is,” Lilah told him. “Not even people who like to plan their lives down to the last minute. Babies throw every plan out the nearest window.”

“Wonderful.”

Rosie squealed until the sound hit a pitch Reed was afraid might make his ears bleed. “That can’t be normal.”

Lilah laughed. “She’s a happy baby.”

Tipping her head to one side, Lilah watched him. “After I found out about Spring’s family, I did some research. I know you have a lot of siblings, so you must be used to babies.”

Another irritation, that he’d been looked into, though he knew potential clients did it all the time. “Yeah, a lot of siblings that I usually saw once or twice a year.”

“Not a close family,” she mused.

“You could say that,” Reed agreed. Hard to be close, though, when there were so damn many of them. You practically needed a spreadsheet just to keep track of his relatives.

“My family’s not at issue right now,” he said, shifting his gaze away from blue eyes trying to see too much to the baby looking up at him with Spring’s eyes. “Right now, I’ve got a problem to solve.”

Lilah sighed. “She’s not a problem, she’s a baby.”