Millionaire's Christmas Miracle (8 page)

Taylor frowned at the man, then went closer to him. “Baba, blue boy?” she said with all seriousness.

“You got it,” he said with a smile for her. “Very smart. Very good girl.”

“I was wrong. You don’t hate kids. You’re good with them,” she said.

He reached for the doll Taylor had discarded earlier and gave it to her. “Here’s your baby. She wants her bottle, I bet.”

“Huh,” Taylor said with a shake of her head. “Baby’s baba.” With that she took off toward Amy’s office.

Then Quint was looking at her. “It won’t work.”

“What?”

“Buttering me up, saying how good I am with kids. We have to call the police.”

“But you
are
good with kids,” Amy said, embarrassed that he’d seen through her so easily.

“Just old habits, twenty-year-old habits.” He came closer and sank down on the floor in front of her. “Now, quit trying to sidetrack this discussion. Let’s get back to this child and what to do.”

“You know, you don’t have to worry about him,” she said quickly, not at all sure what she was going to do, but words came to her in a rush. “You turned him over to me, and I’m the head of this place right now, so to speak, so you’re off the hook. You can leave and know that you did a good deed.”

He frowned, drawing his eyebrows together over his hazel eyes. “Whoa, hold up, how do you figure that I’m off the hook? I found him out there.”

“And, as I pointed out, you brought him in here and gave him to the person in charge. Thank you, and I’ll take care of it from here on out.”

He stared at her hard, then leaned toward her. “Define
take care of it
for me.”

She patted the little guy’s back, felt him sigh and settle even more. “I’ll do the right thing.”

“The right thing is to call the police.”

“That’s your right thing, not mine. I want to give the mother a chance to come to her senses, to have a bit of quiet time and figure out what she wants to do for him and for herself.”

“By giving her time, what are we talking about?”

“I don’t know. An hour, or a day.”

“And if she doesn’t ‘come to her senses,’ then what?”

“Then I’ll do what I need to do.”

“Which is?”

She sighed. “Okay, okay, I’ll call the proper authorities. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“I wish you meant it,” he murmured, sitting back a bit.

“I give you my word. If she doesn’t show up soon, I’ll call the authorities and he’ll be fine.”

“So, you’re going to wait here all night?”

“No, of course not. I’ll leave a note on the door, or under that rock. I’ll give her my phone number, and she can call, and it’ll be okay.”

“And in the meantime?”

“I’ll take him home with me and take care of him and wait.”

He hesitated, then moved back and was on his feet, towering over her. “Just like that?”

“I’ll manage,” she said with a bit more bravado than she actually felt. “I could use a favor, though.”

“Which would be?”

“Could you hold him and keep an eye on Taylor while I try to find a car seat, some more diapers and things that I’ll need for him?”

He crouched down again, coming to eye level with her but not touching her. “I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”

“No, you can’t.”

“I didn’t think so,” he murmured as Taylor came running back. Her doll was gone, but she had a stuffed elephant in her arms and she was babbling happily. “Okay, get what you need. But is there a chair in this place to sit on?”

“I’ve got a rocking chair in the room past my office, the Quiet Room. How about that?”

“Great, perfect,” he said. “Just give me the kid and point me in the direction of the chair.”

She let Quint take Travis, then led the way to the Quiet Room. Lindsey, the director and original creative force behind the center, had decided the old conference room would make a perfect room for quiet time, for naps and a place apart if a child was sick. It was a real improvement over the cramped “nap room” in the old center on the sixth floor. Soon they’d have a few changing tables, sleeping mats and cribs in here. But right now, with the rush to get in
the new location, there was a rocking chair that had seen better times, and a couple of beanbag chairs set against pale-blue walls and deeper blue carpeting. It was supposed to give off an aura of peace and quietness. It did. And when it was completed, it would be wonderful.

But with Quint in there, the idea of peace was lost on Amy. She motioned to the rocking chair, and Quint sank down into it. Before Quint could settle, Taylor was by him, half climbing up his leg, the elephant now on the floor and her tiny hands crushing the material of his pant leg.

“Taylor, no. Leave Mr. Gallagher alone. Play with your elephant,” she said, and reached for it, but Taylor ignored it, choosing to make a grab for Travis’s pacifier. “No, no,” she said.

“Let her be. I can fend her off. Just get your things,” Quint said as he shifted the baby to his shoulder. “Please, just do it.”

She hesitated, then said, “You aren’t going to call the police, are you? I mean, you’ve got a cell phone, I’m sure, and if I leave, I’m not going to get some unpleasant surprise in ten minutes, am I?”

Quint stared at her long and hard, without blinking, and Amy had the thought that maybe she hadn’t really said the question out loud, that she’d just stressed over the “what if’s” and thought she’d said it. Or maybe he hadn’t heard her, although that seemed an even more remote possibility, since they weren’t more than two feet apart.

“The bottle?” he said, holding out a free hand toward her.

She’d forgotten she was even holding it. Quickly, she passed it to him, and was unnerved when their fingers brushed and she almost dropped the bottle. It was as if she’d been shocked by electricity, a spark of energy shooting through her hand and arm. Just one more thing she couldn’t understand and wouldn’t try to understand. He had the bottle safely, his strong hand closing around it, and he never looked away from her.

Nerves tightened in her neck and shoulders, and she finally blurted out, “Did you hear me?”

“Of course.”

“And?”

He shifted, managing to hold the bottle with the same hand that was supporting Travis, then he reached inside his jacket. He took out his cell phone and held it out to her. “Here.”

She didn’t take it. “What are you doing?”

“Since you don’t trust me, I’m making this easy for you.” He paused, then asked in a low voice, “Do you trust me?”

She stared at him, at his intense hazel eyes, the set of his mouth under the mustache, and she simply turned without touching the phone. Yes, she trusted him and that shook her more than anything else that had happened with the man since they had met.

By the time Amy came back into the room, Quint had Taylor on one side and Travis on the other. Taylor was holding the baby’s bottle with Quint’s help while Travis drank the formula. He shifted a bit so she wouldn’t see the spots of formula on his jacket lapel and said, “Just in time. I’m way too old for this.”

“You look like you can handle it,” she said, crossing to the three of them. She looked flushed and rushed, and beautiful. “I think I’ve got everything under control.” She took the baby while she spoke, then, hitching the infant into the crook of one arm, she reached for Taylor with her free hand. “Come on, love, it’s time to go home.”

The little girl hugged her arms around Quint’s arm, gluing herself to him. “No.” Amy acted as if the child had said, “Isn’t the weather lovely?” She smiled, reached down, and before the child knew what her mother was up to, Amy swept her up and away from Quint. The woman was amazing. Even with a newborn in one arm, she managed to tug Taylor up and onto her hip. “No,” Taylor said again, pushing at Amy’s shoulder.

“Oh, yes,” Amy said. “It’s late, and it’s time to go home.” Taylor looked at Quint and for a flashing second, he saw her mother in her, that stubborn lift of her little chin, the way her eyes narrowed. Then the child sagged against her mother, nestling into Amy’s free shoulder.

He didn’t realize that Amy was staring at him until he heard her mutter, “Oh, shoot.” She was looking at his jacket, at the stains from the formula that were even more obvious now that he’d stood up. “I can’t believe…” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”

“Let’s not go down that road again,” Quint said. “It’s not important, and I’m not going to argue about it.”

She looked at him. “Easy for you to say,” she said.

“No, what isn’t easy is you handling the two of them. Give me the baby, and you take Taylor. I’ll help you get them into the car.”

He saw her hesitate, knew that she was going to argue that she could manage, but he didn’t give her a chance. Instead, he took Travis, then said, “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

At least she was smart enough to let go, to let him do what he could for her. Without a word she turned and moved down the hall to her office. “I put everything by the back door, and all I need to get is my purse and jacket and a sweater for Taylor.” She sat the little girl on her desk and tugged a pink sweater on Taylor. Then she put on a denim jacket, got her purse and was carrying Taylor again.

“I put a blanket by the door for the baby, and there’s the car seat and a diaper bag I packed.”

“You’re like a Boy Scout, always prepared,” he said.

“That’s the benefit of working at a day-care center. We’re ready for anything here. Thank goodness I just moved a lot of supplies down here.” They got to the back security door and she pointed to the car seat. “You can put him in that, then carry the whole thing out.”

Quint crouched, settled Travis in the seat, snapped the safety harness in place, then stood, holding the seat by its handle. “Okay, we’ll get them out, then I’ll come back for the rest.”

She opened the door and they went out into the parking garage, heading toward an old blue compact car that Quint doubted would start, let alone be driveable. There was already a car seat in the back, and Amy slipped Taylor into it, then let Quint put the infant seat in next to Taylor. “Face it backwards,” she said, and he shifted it around, then fastened it with the seat belt.

“Hello there!” Quint turned to see Walt coming toward them. “I was looking all over for you, Mr. Gallagher.”

Quint had the oddest feeling that he was going to give him another envelope with a check in it. But he was wrong. The man had his briefcase. “I found this out here in your car with the door wide open and grabbed it in case someone tried to steal it. I went upstairs to find you. Good thing I came back down to check out here again.” He held out the briefcase to Quint.

“Thanks,” Quint said as he took it.

Then the guard looked at Amy and the kids. “You got an extra one on board tonight?”

“Yes, I do,” she said.

“Well, I thought you’d already gone and left the car. Maybe took a cab or something.”

“Why would I take a cab?”

“This weather,” he said. “There’s a huge power outage in your neck of the woods, and it’s raining like a—” He shrugged as he obviously rethought his expressive language. “You know, cats and dogs. If it was hurricane season, I’d think it was a hurricane for sure.”

Quint had forgotten about the rain, but then again, when he’d last looked, it was just a steady rain. “It’s that bad?”

“It’s taken out some power grids and they won’t be up until tomorrow, maybe longer. Just heard the warning on the radio. They were saying this grid’s apt to be shut down so they can reroute to more important areas. Just what I need, a night in the dark with nothing working.”

“You don’t have emergency generators?”

“Oh, yeah, sure, but they’re just for simple stuff, like security lights and one elevator. That’s about it.” He turned to Amy. “You drive careful out there, what with those kids and all.”

With that the man nodded, then left, heading back to the security doors. As they clanged shut after him, Amy turned to Quint and said, “Well, shoot, I wish I knew if I had electricity at home.”

“You’ve got an answering machine. Call home. If it comes on, you know you’ve got power.”

She looked at him as if he’d just discovered the secret to life. “Fantastic idea,” she said.

He took out his cell phone, and held it out to her. “Be my guest.”

While she called, he looked back at her car, then saw the tires. Not exactly bald, but with little tread left. He knew that he wasn’t going to let her go anywhere in bad weather with those tires. “Nothing,” she said, drawing his attention back to her. “It just rings and rings.”

“Chances are you’re in the dark there.”

“I can’t take a baby and Taylor there with no electricity. And staying here…” She shrugged, a fluttery movement of her slender shoulders, and that vulnerability was exposed again. And it had the same effect on him. That need to protect and help. Damn it, he could have been a cop and been more blasé about “protecting and helping” someone, especially her. “I’ve got the supplies, but if the center loses electricity, too…”

“How about a family member or a friend?”

“Oh, Jenn, yeah, that’s a great idea.” He could get used to her approval if he let himself enjoy it for more than a fleeting moment. She dialed again, then listened, and the smile faded as she shut the phone off. “I forgot. She’s gone for New Year’s, with friends.”

“Anyone else?”

She shook her head. “No, no one.”

“Parents live out of state?”

“They’re gone.”

“Your husband’s family?”

“Jenn’s all he has…had…and she’s about all we have.”

He jumped in again. “Okay, no family, and you can’t stay here. How about a hotel?”

She hesitated and he knew it was the money. And he knew that he couldn’t offer to pay. So he compromised. “I have a huge suite, two bedrooms, lots of space, and you can bunk there with the children until the storm lets up.”

Those dark eyes turned to him, but this time they looked narrowed, as if she couldn’t quite look at his suggestion. “A suite? An expensive suite?”

“A very expensive suite, with balconies off both bedrooms and a terrace off the living area.”

That made her shake her head sharply. “Oh, no. Thanks, but no.”

“If it’s the money, just—”

“No, it’s not the money, but a terrace and balconies? Do you have any idea how fast a child can get loose and how deadly a balcony could be to a two-year-old?”

Of course he did, and he wished he’d thought of it first. “Okay, then if the money’s not the issue, let me pay for a room for the three of you at the hotel? Just for one night?”

“I can pay,” she said quickly. “And, yes, that would be doable.”

He took his phone back, a bit jolted by the heat of her body caught in the plastic case when he started to dial the hotel. Even the earpiece against his ear felt warm, and he had to concentrate when the phone was answered. It took all of two minutes to find out from
the desk that they were booked, what with the holiday and the weather. He hung up, told Amy and asked, “Another hotel?”

“I think they’ll all be full,” she murmured. “Maybe I should just stay here and take my chances, or maybe try to get home and hope it isn’t so bad there.”

“You aren’t going anywhere in that car,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

That chin was up, that subtle challenge to his statement. “Your tires, you’ll hydroplane the first time you try to brake for anything. It’s too dangerous.”

Travis started to cry and within a second, Taylor was joining in, both of them tired and cranky now. “Okay, you’ve got a point. I’ll stay here.”

“And if the electricity goes, then what?”

She turned from him, stooped down and reached in the car to put the pacifier back in Travis’s mouth. Then she reached into the front seat, found a hard pretzel and gave it to Taylor. Both kids were quiet in a matter of a minute. A miracle, and Amy acted as if it was normal. She had no idea how un-normal it was to him to be around a woman who cared about the kids and wasn’t annoyed that they were interrupting her life.

“I’ll deal with it,” she said, and he had no doubt she would, that she’d done that very thing since her husband died. And he wasn’t going to let her do it this time, not alone, not on a night like this.

“Tell you what, I know of a place that would be perfect for the kids, lots of space, food, heat and electricity. And it’s empty. I can drive you there now.”

“Where?”

“North of here, on higher ground, around thirty miles. And we’ll have lights, heat, food. How about it?”

“I can’t ask you to take me all the way out there. I can just wait here. Maybe this storm will pass soon.”

“And maybe it won’t, and you’re taking on a newborn and trying to deal with a two-year-old? I can’t go and leave you all here.” He made himself smile to take any admonition out of his words. “Either I stay here with you all and rough it in there, or you agree to the smart thing and take me up on my offer. When the storm’s over or your electricity is back on, we can go our separate ways.”

Quint looked right at her, waiting, hoping she’d take him up on the offer, but not at all sure she’d let herself depend on anyone for anything. Her response wasn’t an acceptance, rather a compromise. “Okay, I’ll take the ride. I don’t want to endanger the kids. But I want you to drive me to my place, and if there’s electricity, we’ll stay there.”

“And if it’s dark?”

She shrugged. “We’ll go to the other place, but it isn’t fancy and rich and expensive, is it? It’s not a place that Taylor can take apart and I’ll end up owing the owner a million or two?”

He could really laugh at that, and did. The sound echoed in the garage, and Amy was almost smiling. “God, no, it’s not a palace or a mansion. Just shelter that can accommodate two kids. It’s that or the No
Tell Motel and that’s hardly a place for you or two kids.”

Taylor yelled and a soggy pretzel came shooting out of the open car door. Amy picked it up between her forefinger and thumb, grimaced at it and looked at Quint. She shivered slightly, and he could see that she was gradually being overwhelmed, but she’d never admit to it. “Okay, if my place is dark, I’ll go with you.”

He never felt this thankful for agreement with business dealings, not even when he completed a successful assignment. The woman had him grateful for letting her use him. He didn’t stop to think how out of kilter that was, and instead he found himself staying with the kids while Amy went back into the center and came out with even more things than she had stacked at the back door. “Supplies,” she said and he loaded them into his car, then went back to get the kids.

Moments later, he was sitting behind the wheel of his SUV, revving the engine, with two crying kids in car seats in the back. Amy tossed the diaper bag in the passenger door, landing it on the console, but she didn’t get in. “What’s your cell phone number?” she asked over the cries.

He gave her the number, watched her write it on a scrap of paper, then she called over her shoulder, “Be right back,” and hurried toward the door to the center.

He could see her in the side mirror stopping at the door, then crouching, doing something, before going back inside. Moments later she was running to his car. She got in, carrying Charlie in his cage.
“Couldn’t leave him if things go bad,” she said, twisting to put the cage on the floor in the back. She reached behind the seat to touch Taylor on the foot, smile at her, then softly pat Travis on his leg. As if her touch was magic, both children quieted and she looked at him. “Okay, we’re ready.”

He adjusted the heater, then started for the ramp that went to the security gates. “What was that all about with the cell phone number?” he asked as Amy twisted in the seat to rub Taylor’s foot, a connection that kept the child calm.

“I left a note for Travis’s mom, gave her my phone number and your cell phone number. So, if she calls you, help her get in touch with me, okay?”

Talk about optimistic, he thought, but just nodded. “Of course,” he said, then looked ahead through the security gate. From this level, he could see the rain sheeting down, and water rushing down the street as if it were a roiling creek. “Whoa,” he muttered.

He sensed Amy move, sitting forward to look out the windshield, then the gate went up and he pulled onto the street into a night torn by the storm. He headed toward the section of the city where Amy lived, driving at a snail’s pace and uneasy about the traffic lights that had been reduced to flashing red lights only.

All of the lights around them were mere smears in the darkness, and the few cars that were on the streets were doing what he was doing—staying as close to the middle of the street as possible to avoid the mini rivers developing near the curbs. When he got to a major intersection, he realized how bad it was when
he spotted two cars stalled ahead of him, water rushing up to the bottoms of the doors and submerging part of the front end of another car stalled near the curb.