Found: One Secret Baby

She’d forgotten about them. “You don’t have them with you.”

He smiled, but she ignored the illusion of interest in his eyes. He wouldn’t fool her again.

“They’ve been sold,” he told her.

“What?”

“A woman came into the gallery while I was showing them to my friend, fell in love with them, and insisted on buying them both.”

Rosalie ignored the little burst of pleasure at the idea of a total stranger loving her mother’s work and leaned back to give him an icy stare.

“Neither you nor your friend were authorized to sell them.”

“We explained that to the lady. My friend agreed to hold them for her until you can sign the appropriate contracts.”

“What if I don’t want to sell them?”

Chapter Three (#u8760f581-e77f-597b-b8f2-e2cba0bdcc94)

“Then you’re a more spiteful person than I thought,” Danby replied. “Why deny this woman the pictures she wants, and yourself the pleasure of sharing your mother’s work, because you don’t like me?”

He had a point.

“How much did they sell for?” When he told her, she gave a low whistle. Selling even a few paintings at those prices would make a nice addition to Joey’s college fund. “I assume you have the contracts with you?”

A few minutes later Rosalie had made Morgan’s friend the representative for the sale of her mother’s paintings and committed herself to delivering two dozen more to the gallery by the end of the week. Once the paperwork was done, she stood and held out her hand.

“Thank you for helping me find new homes for my mother’s work. I hope you have a safe trip back to …”

“Boston.” He stood too, and took her hand in his.

“Goodbye, Mr. Danby.”

He smiled and released her hand slowly. A sensuous tingle crept up her arm.

“It’s been a pleasure, Ms. Walker.”

She started to say it hadn’t, to echo what he’d said when they first met, but she couldn’t. How sad was that?

She watched him walk out the door, and out of her life, with a mixture of profound relief and regret. She looked down. The picture of Joey on her computer monitor beamed up at her, reminding her of what really mattered. There were other men, although few with the magnetism of Morgan Danby, but there was only one Joey.

Rosalie took the promised paintings to the gallery the next Saturday, but daily life soon pushed them out of her mind. When an engraved envelope arrived in her office mail three weeks later, she didn’t know what it was at first. The return address reminded her. It was an invitation to the opening of her mother’s show.

Her heart danced at idea of seeing others celebrate, and love, her mother’s work. Then she groaned at the thought of having to get dressed up after a long day at work, drive all the way to Beverly Hills, and try to find a place to park.

After a moment, she realized she couldn’t go in any case. The opening was next Thursday. Jill, the teenage neighbor who sometimes took care of Joey, wasn’t allowed to babysit on school nights. Her parents might have made an exception, but the opening didn’t start until eight and, with the drive, it would be past eleven before Rosalie got home.

She put the envelope on her desk and turned back to the rest of her mail.

“What’s this?” Vanessa picked up the envelope after she set the sandwich she’d bought for Rosalie on the desk a couple of hours later.

“An invitation to the opening of that show of my mother’s paintings I told you about.”

“Beverly Hills!” Vanessa sat down and took the invitation out to read it. “Sounds fancy. What are you going to wear?”

“Can’t go.” Rosalie shrugged at her friend’s shocked expression. “No one to watch Joey.”

“Rosie, you’ve got to go. You can’t miss your mom’s big moment. There must be someone who can watch Joey.”

Rosalie shook her head.

“What about that older lady across the street?”

“Mrs. Peterson’s in Omaha visiting the grandchildren.” Rosalie took a drink of coffee.

Vanessa reread the invitation. “This thing starts at eight. Won’t Joey be asleep by then?”

Rosalie almost choked on her coffee. “Asleep or awake, I am not leaving him alone!”

“Hey, calm down. I may not be Ms. Maternal here, but I’d never suggest anything like that. Give me some credit. What I was thinking was maybe I could watch him for you.”

“You?”

“He’d be asleep.”

Rosalie laughed. “Until he wakes up. Then what?”

“If he’s hungry I feed him. If he’s wet I change him.”

“What if he’s worse than wet?”

Vanessa grimaced. “I change him anyway?”

“Not exactly a professional babysitter attitude. Besides, you have to argue in front of the Federal Court of Appeals next Friday, don’t you? You’ll need your sleep the night before, and I may not get back until late.”

“True.” Vanessa slumped back in the chair, then sat up again with a grin. “Did you know Aaron was the oldest of six?”

“What does the size of your husband’s family have to do with anything, other than the decision the two of you have made to remain childless?”

“I’ll bet he changed a lot of diapers once upon a time. Maybe it’s like riding a bicycle, something you never forget how to do. He and I could both come over. If you’re out too late, I can nap on the couch while Aaron takes over with the kid.”

“I suspect Aaron will have to change any diapers that need it, even if you’re awake.”

“Whatever. The point is, now you can go to the opening.”

The happiness that flooded Rosalie’s heart told her how badly she wanted to be there for her mother’s big night.

“If it’s okay with Aaron, I guess it’s okay with me.”