A Place Called Home Page 2

  Avery’s brows knit. He glanced at his client. Thea nodded slightly, confirming that it was Kathryn Reasoner who had selected Mitch Baker as one of the children’s guardians. She had been Gabe’s choice.

  Wayne continued. “Mr. Reasoner had no one that he knew of. He was adopted by the Reasoners when he was four. He was their only child, and they passed away when Emilie was an infant, a few months apart. He also had no biological siblings, at least at the time of the adoption. Unlike many adoptees, Mr. Reasoner never expressed any interest in searching out his birth parents.”

  Mitch saw Thea stir. For a moment her mouth had become tight, her eyes distant. Impatience? Discomfort? He didn’t know but he found himself irritated rather than sympathetic. Hadn’t she taken the time to explain any of this to her lawyer? As far as he was concerned, Wayne was going over information everyone in the room should have known.

  Thea stood abruptly. “Excuse me,” she said quietly. “I need—” She didn’t finish. Rounding the table quickly, she let herself out of the windowless conference room and into the hallway.

  The silence didn’t last past the door being closed behind her. “What the hell?” Mitch asked, looking at Childers. “That question is for you, by the way.”

  Wayne’s attempt to nudge Mitch under the table fell short of the mark. Leaning back in his chair, Wayne surreptitiously looked to see where Mitch had moved his feet. The next time he wouldn’t miss his target.

  Avery Childers neatly squared off the documents in front of him, running his index finger along the side and bottom to even the stack. “Ms. Wyndham is not the enemy,” he said finally, looking up at Mitch. “Neither am I, for that matter, but if you’re going to try to intimidate one of us, save it for me. I’m paid handsomely to be impervious.”

  “My client is not trying to intimidate anyone. For God’s sake, he’s a cartoonist.”

  Mitch smiled blandly and fought the urge to cup his balls to make sure they were still there. “Think Charles Schulz,” Wayne went on. Inspired, he added, “Or Cathy Guisewite.”

  Avery wasn’t having any of it. “He’s a political cartoonist,” he said to Wayne. His tone made Mitch out to be the Antichrist, but it also gave him his balls back. “I’ve seen your work, Mr. Baker. In fact, I saw it in this morning’s Chronicle. If I were the speaker of the house, I’d want to sue your ass.”

  “Careful, you’ll turn my head with compliments like that. Anyway, it was a good likeness. Flattering, I thought.”

  “I was referring to the subject matter.”

  “Aaah. The pissing contest.” Mitch’s rendering of the speaker pushing the minority whip out of the way to be first to register for a pissing contest was front and center on the editorial page. “You realize, of course, that in the tradition of the great Thomas Nast, it is symbolic of the struggle for power and suggests a manner in which the struggle could be ended, in what I like to think is a rather whimsical fashion.”

  “I understood the symbolism,” Avery said dryly. “I missed the whimsy.”

  Mitch sighed, feigning disappointment. “I can only hope that Newsweek doesn’t. I’m hoping they’ll pick it up for their Perspectives section.”

  Avery pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and gave Mitch a level look. “Stop trying to intimidate my client, Mr. Baker. Wayne, if you can’t get him to stop staring at Ms. Wyndham like he’s measuring her for a noose, this meeting is going to be over when she steps back in here.”

  “Look here, Avery,” Wayne began, gloves off. “My client—” He stopped because out of the corner of his eye he saw Mitch’s small negative shake. He wasn’t entirely certain what Mitch was trying to communicate until he heard the door handle turn. Thea was just on the other side of the door. If Mitch had really been trying to intimidate Thea before, he was now trying to protect her. Wayne shot Avery a look that said, See?

  Avery Childers rose slightly as Thea entered. She waved him back. “I apologize,” she said. “What have I missed?”

  Mitch didn’t hear what was said in response, or who said it. His attention was riveted on Thea’s left hand, most particularly on the oval-cut diamond that had almost blinded him when she waved her attorney back in his chair. It took a measure of self-control not to blink. How had he missed it the first time? The diamond was the size of an ice cube. He wasn’t certain he could have looked away if Thea had not finally sat down and folded her hands primly in her lap. Mitch half expected to see a band of white light rimming the horizon of the table, rising from her lap like a winter sunrise. He glanced at Thea, but if she was aware of it, she gave no indication. Her head was turned from him in three-quarter profile and she appeared to be listening intently to Wayne. Mitch couldn’t imagine that Wayne was all that interesting.

  “Both of our clients agreed to this shared guardianship arrangement,” Wayne was saying. “It is for us to determine the actual physical custody. Mr. Baker has been taking care of the Reasoner children since the death of their parents. As Ms. Wyndham could not be reached, this only made sense. Now that she is available, Mr. Baker is requesting that a shared custody arrangement be drawn up and presented to the family court judge for approval. I have several proposals for you to discuss with your client. Each of them has their own advantages and drawbacks. I’m afraid there is no perfect solution. Judge Carmody is no Solomon, either. I don’t expect that we’ll be saved by a particularly thoughtful or wise decision if we approach her without a solution ourselves. She’ll appoint a guardian ad litem and order a home study. She may still do that, in any event. I’m sure your client does not want to make the children the subject of a custody battle or pin our hopes for a reasonable outcome on being able to get another judge to review the matter.”

  Avery let silence settle as if giving careful consideration to this last statement. Then he pounced. Timing was everything. “Then you’ll be pleased to hear that Ms. Wyndham is willing to give full custody to Mr. Baker.”

  Mitch’s head snapped up and his internal threat level went from blue to orange, skipping yellow entirely.

  “Moreover,” Avery went on, “my client does not want to disrupt the children’s lives further by devising a visitation schedule in which no one is served. Rather, she is proposing that while the children remain with Mr. Baker, she will visit them as she has always done when the children were with their parents.”

  Mitch felt Wayne’s restraining hand on his forearm. Did Wayne really think he was going to jump up and slug somebody? Wayne’s hand should have clapped itself over his mouth. “This is a joke, right? Thea? What the hell is he talking about?”

  “Address me,” Childers reminded Mitch. “Or better yet, leave it to your attorney.”

  Mitch’s nostril flared slightly and a succinct profanity hovered on the tip of his tongue. He held it back, but he saw Thea Wyndham flinch as if he had shouted it at her.

  Wayne removed his hand from Mitch. He took a gold Mont Blanc from his jacket and made a few notations on his pad. The scrawl was perfectly illegible to everyone but him. After a moment he looked up at Avery. “This is Ms. Wyndham’s idea?”

  “Whose else would it be?”

  “Her fiancé’s.”

  Mitch had a vision of his head doing a three-sixty. “You knew?” he asked accusingly.

  Wayne shrugged. “If you had gotten my message ...”

  “Is Wayne right?” Mitch asked Thea. “Is this your fiancé’s idea?”

  Avery said, “You don’t have to answer that.”

  “For God’s sake,” Mitch said. “It’s a simple enough question.”

  “You wouldn’t think that if you were sitting in her chair. For the full effect you need only add a naked white bulb over her head.”

  Mitch had the grace to look abashed. His voice gentled. “Thea?”

  She answered before her lawyer could cut her off again. “Joel and I discussed it, Mitch. It was a mutual decision.”

  “Joel?”

  “Strahern.”

  “Strahern Investment
s? That Strahern?”

  “Yes.”

  As a financial force to be courted and respected, the Strahern banking family was second only to Mellon. “I see,” Mitch said softly. He turned back to Wayne. “I suppose there is no sense in not sharing my own news.”

  Wayne was surprised and wary but neither of these expressions showed on his face. “Perhaps now is not the time,” he ventured, feeling his way in the dark.

  “I don’t see why not. If Ms. Wyndham hadn’t been incommunicado this last month, she would know by now.”

  Avery broke in. “What is he talking about, Wayne? Someone just say it.”

  “I’m engaged myself,” Mitch said. He gave Wayne full marks for the poker face he maintained. It would be difficult facing him in five-card stud again. Mitch had no idea how very good he could be. “To Regina Sommers.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Sommers Real Estate?”

  Thea and her attorney spoke simultaneously. There was no mistaking her sincerity or his curiosity.

  Mitch nodded, accepting Thea’s best wishes and answering Avery’s question. Under the table, Wayne had found his foot again and was grinding it with the heel of his shoe. “Yes, well, perhaps I should let Wayne conclude this.”

  Wayne took the opening given to him but he did not remove his foot. “You’ll understand that our proposals were based on the fact that Mr. Baker is also marrying and has raised concerns about whether he can take full custody of the children at this time. It would unduly strain the marriage.”

  Mitch felt the full impact of Thea’s darkening eyes on him. She was searching his face, her own a shade paler than it had been moments earlier. The color left in her cheeks owed everything to Clinique. “You don’t want the children?”

  It was Wayne who responded. “Mr. Baker is quite willing to share custody. If you will review the proposals, you’ll see that they call for him to be a partner in raising Emilie, Case, and Grant.”

  Avery was scanning the documents. “An unequal partner. He wants to be the part-time custodian. Second and fourth weekends. Every other Wednesday. Here’s a proposal that gives you each two weeks with the children.”

  Thea’s eyes widened. “Mitch? You’re not serious about that one, are you? We don’t even live in the same school district. Their education would be completely disrupted.”

  Mitch said nothing, finally willing to let Wayne speak for him. Easy to let the lawyer take over when what you felt like yourself was way down on the food chain.

  “It’s merely one idea, Ms. Wyndham,” Wayne said. “The matter of school attendance does present some thorny problems.”

  “Thorny problems?” Thea said, squaring off her shoulders. “It’s lunacy. Gabe and Kathy would never agree to something like that.”

  It pained Wayne, but he took the hard line. “Gabe and Kathy don’t have to agree to it. They put it in your hands. Yours and Mitch’s. I don’t think it ever occurred to them that you would not want the children.”

  Thea actually shrank back in her chair and Wayne almost felt sorry for her.

  “Let’s not throw stones, shall we?” Avery said. He looked pointedly at Mitch. “People in glass houses, after all. Your client is not clamoring to take on the responsibilities of surrogate parenthood himself.”

  Wayne opened his mouth to respond but Mitch cut him off. “Leave us,” he said without inflection. “You too, Mr. Childers. I want to talk to Ms. Wyndham alone.”

  “I don’t think that’s—” Avery stopped when he saw Wayne getting to his feet. He looked at his client. “This isn’t a good idea, Ms. Wyndham. Mr. Strahern wouldn’t like—” He didn’t finish this time because he saw Thea’s resolve had been strengthened by the mention of her fiancé. Too late, Avery realized he had blundered by assuming she was in some way subservient to Joel Strahern. “Very well,” he said with an obvious show of reluctance. “But I insist that you do not come to any agreements without reviewing them with me.”

  Thea offered no comment and Avery had to be satisfied with her silence, choosing to accept it as consent. He stood, gathering the papers in front of him, and followed Wayne out of the room.

  “He hated that,” Mitch said after the door closed.

  “Wayne is not entirely happy with you right now.”

  Mitch shrugged. “He’ll give me hell and then we’ll go play some hoops. I’ll let him win and we’ll be back on an even keel.”

  “No pissing contest, then.”

  He gave a bark of laughter. “You saw today’s paper.”

  “I saw it. I always look for your work. Your liberal bias is showing.”

  Mitch looked down at himself. “Where?” He patted his chest with both hands searching for the offending bias.

  “There,” she said dryly. “Your bleeding heart.”

  His grin was brief and quirky. By the time Mitch dropped his hands to the arms of the chair it was gone. He studied her for a moment, taking in the things he hadn’t wanted to see earlier: the faintly swollen eyelids; the bleak expression; the skin that was stretched tautly over a beautifully sculpted face. “What are we going to do, Thea?”

  “I don’t know.” There was hardly any sound in this admission, as if she could not bear to hear her own helplessness.

  He saw her chin wobble. She looked away quickly as tears welled in her eyes, and Mitch was selfishly glad when she managed to blink them back. He remained quiet, suspecting that anything he might say right now would open the floodgates. Comforting Thea was not the reason he’d asked to be alone with her.

  Her smile was both regretful and watery as her eyes darted around the room. “You’d think a lawyer’s office would have some tissues. They must get lots of hysterical clients.”

  “Hmmm.”

  She touched an index finger to the corner of each eye and quickly erased the last vestige of tears. Taking a short, steadying breath, she said, “I had no idea you were getting married. Gabe and Kathy never mentioned you were serious about someone.” When she saw his discomfort, she hastened to add, “Not that we talked about you. I mean, things just came up from time to time. Sometimes Emilie would ...” Thea just let her thought drift away.

  “Yes?” Mitch prompted.

  Thea shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “All right. Let’s discuss our options.” Mitch leaned forward and placed his clasped hands on the table. He didn’t think his body language was particularly threatening, but he didn’t miss Thea sliding back in her chair. “Am I making you nervous?”

  The directness of the question startled her. Her honesty startled her more. “Yes. As a matter of fact, you are.”

  One of Mitch’s brows arched. “Really? What do you think I’m going to do?”

  “I don’t know. That’s what’s making me nervous. I know you’re angry with me.”

  Characterizing what he felt toward her as anger was so much less than it was. “Angry? I don’t know about that. Disappointed. Resentful. Frustrated. And now that you’re telling me you don’t want the children, I’m even a little afraid.” She actually blinked at this last admission. “If all that comes across as anger, then it does. I’m not apologizing for it.”

  “I’m not asking you to. I just wanted to understand.”

  “Well, now you do.”

  “You think I should have been here.”

  “I think you should have been able to be reached.” Mitch’s fingers threaded through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell someone where the hell you were going?”

  “I did.” There was a faint shudder to her indrawn breath. “Gabe and Kathy knew.”

  Mitch fell silent. Finally, “Aaah, hell.”

  Closing her eyes for a moment, Thea nodded. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Hell.” She made another quick swipe at the corners of her eyes and gathered the fraying threads of her composure. “Gabe was my closest friend. Kathy became exactly what I’d imagine a sister might be. I know you think I’m failing them now by not taking their children, but—”

 
“Emilie, Case, and Grant.”

  She frowned. “Yes, I know.”

  “We have to stop talking about them collectively as the children,” he said. “It makes it impersonal somehow. This is very personal. You and I made promises to their parents and now we’re seriously discussing who is not going to take them. Don’t you feel the least bit ashamed?”

  Thea flushed. Her fingers tightened on the arms of her chair. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I’m ashamed. Probably more deeply than you can comprehend. It changes nothing, though. It’s not that I’m not taking Em and Case and Grant because I don’t want to. I’m not taking them because I can’t.”

  “Can’t? Because you’re getting married?”

  That was the only reason Thea was prepared to discuss. “Yes. Isn’t it the same for you? What does ...” She paused, searching for the name of Mitch’s fiancée.

  “Gina.”

  “Thank you. What does Gina think about sharing this responsibility with you?”

  There were a lot of ways Mitch could have answered that question. He could have come clean and admitted there were no serious wedding plans, at least on his part. He could have said Gina was too young herself to take on an instant family. He considered pointing out that Gina would do whatever he told her, but it sounded too caveman and he suspected Thea wouldn’t buy it. He might have explained that Gina just wanted to please him, but a vision of Thea laughing outright stopped him. He finally came up with “Gina and I haven’t discussed that eventuality.”

  “You haven’t discussed—” She stopped, searching his face. “Oh, I see. You didn’t discuss it because you assumed I would take Emilie and the twins when I heard what happened.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Aren’t you the least bit ashamed?”

  “That’s a fair description.”

  His easy admission had the effect of deflating her. She took a deep breath and began again. “Look, Mitch, you and I don’t know each other very well. We had Gabe and Kathy in common. Later, the children. We’ve met, what? a half dozen times over the years?”