Blame It on Cupid

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Naturally, without knowing her, Merry had had a hard time picking out Christmas presents—but not totally. Eleven was eleven. Whether Merry wanted to or not, she recalled every detail about that age. It was that era when you had to have a best friend. When you first started to notice boys, even if you were still a little worried they had cooties. It was that age when you first got hard-core interested in makeup and fashion styles, started hearing the appeal of the “in” music, talked on the phone nonstop.

And, yeah, it was an age when losing a parent was the worst thing in the universe—especially if the other parent had already deserted the ship.

Merry’s heart had been ripped up since she first heard the story. Still was. Still would be, she suspected, until she’d gotten her arms around the little girl. Whatever happened was going to be challenging, she knew. How could anything about this be easy, for her or for Charlene? But Merry didn’t really doubt that she’d get along with the child. Wherever this all ended up, love and caring and attention had to help the little sweetheart, and Merry was more than willing to open her heart to the child.

Finally the receptionist gave her the high sign, and Merry sailed into Oxford’s office with an eager smile and her hand outstretched. The terrier-sized, darkhaired man on the other side of the polished onyx desk stood up to return her handshake, but abruptly her optimistic spirits suffered a teensy drop.

Unlike everybody else, she usually liked lawyers. Some of her closest friends were lawyers. But most of them were of that earnest, honest breed fresh from law school, hot to make the world a better place, flagwaving hopeless liberals like…well, like herself. Lee Oxford looked about fifty, had a mega-watt diamond in his tie, elegantly styled brown hair—even for a city guy—and wore alligator shoes. He took one look at her and brightened as if she were the freshest meat on the hoof he’d seen in a long, long time.

It’s not as if she’d never had that response from a man before, but she’d really wanted to like this guy. Mentally she reminded herself that Charlie Ross would never have picked a jerk for a lawyer, so to just chill on that first reaction and give him a longer chance.

Still, Oxford held her hand more like a caress instead of a handshake, before slowly sinking back in his chair. He started out with, “I wondered what you’d look like. This is a highly unusual situation.”

“Believe me, it is for me, too.” She sank into the barrel chair across from his sleek black desk. “This is the fastest I could get here. I didn’t expect to be able to connect with Charlene still tonight, but I was hoping to get the key to the house. I’d like to open it up, make sure everything’s turned on, get some food in, just get to know the place a little. Try and make some things ready for her.”

“A good idea. But there’s a lot we have to go over first.”

Merry leaned forward. There was a ton she wanted to go over, too. And just because little guys tended to worry her—they always seemed to have a mean streak, need to prove their power and all that—she tried to quit pegging him in the negative. So the guy had looked her over a little close. What man didn’t?

“As I hope I explained on the phone…if the child’s mother happened to show up, or another blood relative who is capable of taking Charlene, they could make a legal claim. But right now, to the best of our knowledge, there’s no one.”

Merry nodded. “For her sake, I wish she had some family, too.”

“Regardless, you need to fully understand that you have no legal obligation to take her.”

“I do understand that. You explained on the phone.”

“The document you signed years ago isn’t binding.”

Again she nodded. She’d gone over that night numerous times in her mind. It was hard to explain to an outsider what a rare and special friendship she’d formed with Charlie. It just wasn’t like any other friend relationship.

He’d been newly divorced when she met him, living in Minnesota, not Virginia. There’d never been anything romantic between them. They’d met at some ghastly party that they’d both been conned into attending by friends, started talking and never stopped. He was just a totally great guy who’d needed a friend, and she’d valued being one for him. Over days and weeks of talking together, she shared more about her childhood than she’d ever told anyone. Likewise, he’d revealed his circumstances. The court had given him full custody of his baby daughter, but he’d been frantic about what would happen to Charlene if he died or was hurt. Even before his ex-wife had disappeared from the picture, she’d been attracted to anything she could smoke or sniff.

The two of them had written up an agreement on a legal pad in a restaurant. It wasn’t fancy, just said that Merry would take care of his daughter, as he’d take care of hers if she ever had kids who needed help. Even if it was just a pact between friends, she’d meant the words. He had, too. And yeah, unfortunately they’d lost track when he took the job in Virginia. He also must have wildly changed if he’d turned into Mr. Suburbia. But she’d never forgotten him. When the lawyer first called, she’d let out a helpless, keening cry on hearing Charlie was gone.

And that fast, Oxford told her that she was the only one listed as a potential guardian for Charlene. He’d also quickly informed her there was nothing legally binding about such a document, nothing to stop her from backing out.

He repeated the same thing now.

She answered him the same way she had then. “Maybe there’s nothing in this situation that’s legally binding. But morally and ethically is a whole different ball of wax. I have no idea if I can be a good guardian for Charlene. But she can’t possibly be better off in foster care, and for sure she needs out of the situation she’s stuck in right now. And I’m free. I can at least make sure she’s back in her own home, her own school, around her own friends again, before anybody has to make any decisions set in granite.”

“It’s a monumental thing you’re taking on.” Oxford picked up a pen, and terrier-fashion, started worrying it, poking it end to end. “If you don’t mind my saying, I find it odd if not a little suspicious that you’d be willing to take on a kid out of the blue.”

Merry tried not to take offense. He didn’t know her from Adam. She tried to answer with the same careful honesty she’d expressed to everyone else. “If you’re thinking that I easily said yes, I promise you I didn’t. But when you described the situation she was in…I couldn’t get it out of my mind. A little girl, right at Christmas, who had everything she knew and loved ripped away from her—”

He cut her short, as if he needed to hear an emotional argument like he needed another head. “Somehow I suspect you know there’s a sizable trust.”

She frowned. “Yes. You said Charlie had a trust set up for his daughter.”

“A sizable trust,” he repeated, and looked at her.

She opened her mouth, closed it. She told herself again that Charlie would never have chosen a lawyer who was a creep, but the tone of Oxford’s voice still stung. He clearly seemed to think she was motivated by money. Of course, he couldn’t possibly know that half the world tagged her Ms. Eternal Sunshine…and the other half accused her of being a hopelessly naive idealist. But greedy—sheesh. Of all the faults she’d picked up and excelled at, greed sure wasn’t one of them.

“I don’t know what you mean by sizable,” she said carefully. “But I admit I was shocked when I saw the house. When I knew Charlie, he was an engineer. A good one, making a decent salary. But when I saw the house, I figured it must have a heckuva mortgage—”

“The house is paid for. When Charlie’s dad died, he inherited a bundle. Which I suspect you knew.”

“No, I didn’t, actually,” she said evenly. “I never asked Charlie about money. It was never my business.”

“Uh-huh.” Oxford put down his pen. “I’m not trying to yank your chain, Merry. I wouldn’t take on a kid either, unless there was something in it for me. But if there hadn’t been that kind of money, the child would undoubtedly have been popped into foster care from the start. And if blood relatives do show up, you’d better believe they’ll fight for a chance at that size of pot.”

She felt a little like a goldfish stolen from a tank. Her mouth kept opening. She just couldn’t temporarily get any words out. She’d never take on a child for money’s sake, couldn’t imagine anyone who would. Bruising her even more, though, was that the attorney seemed to believe she was like him, now that they’d put some honesty on the table. At least his version of honesty.

“You need to understand though, Merry, that Charlie made that trust iron-tight. Or I should say I made the trust tight. No one gets their hands on that money, without verifying that any and all expenses are for the child.”

“Which is the way it should be,” Merry got in.

“Yeah, right. Naturally, there’s an allowance for the guardian.” He named a sum that almost knocked her off her chair. “But typical of such situations, there was an immediate guardian ad litem appointed by the court.”

“You used that term on the phone, but I don’t really know what it means.”

“Basically the court appoints a guardian ad litem, who functions as an impartial voice in decisions involving a minor or incapacitated person. In this case, obviously, the child. I have control over matters involving the trust and finances—but I have no power over custody details. She’ll check on Charlene’s progress with you. Evaluate how the relationship is working. She has the right to make home visits, to interview Charlene’s doctor or teachers or other people who know the child. And you need to understand that she can petition the court to have you removed from the guardian role if she feels Charlene isn’t thriving in your care…but she will have to prove it.”

“All that sounds like good sense. Fine.” Merry found herself wrapping her arms tight around her chest. A lump kept clogging her throat. These were facts she needed to know, no question. It was just that the attorney hadn’t said a single personal thing about the child. There was no hint he’d ever even met her. Maybe she was being oversensitive, but he kept striking her as having a heart colder than the Arctic. “Mr. Oxford—”

“Lee. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other. No reason to stand on formality.”

How ironic, she thought thickly. Because she never stood on formality with anyone in her life. But this was one person she wished she could. “If you don’t mind my asking…how did you happen to be Charlie’s attorney?”

He smiled, leaned back and cocked his alligator shoe against a drawer. “Actually, I was originally his father’s attorney, not Charlie’s. When Bartholomew and his wife died—unexpectedly, in a boating accident—I believe Charlie recognized right off that I’d done a good job of protecting his parents’ assets. I think he also readily realized that he wasn’t good with money himself. He used to say that he didn’t need to have a cutthroat bone because he knew I had plenty of them.”

Maybe she was supposed to laugh, but all she could think was that now she got it. How and why Charlie had tied up with such a cold-blooded machine.

“Anyhow…” Lee glanced at his watch and zoomed back to business. “The guardian ad litem’s name is June Innes. She’s already seen Charlene, and will undoubtedly be getting in touch with you shortly.” He started feeding her forms and papers far faster than she could possibly read or absorb the details. Maybe he thought she wouldn’t care about the information—or else he was just in a hurry to get out of there. Outside, night was falling faster than bad news.

Finally, he handed her the last form…several of which she’d had to sign…and got around to handing her the key to the house. “You’ve landed yourself a nice setup,” he said bluntly. “It’s a great house. A lucrative allowance. And for the record, I have no intention of being hard on you. As long as the kid’s well taken care of, there’s financial room for leniency if you need any kind of…flexibility.”

Minutes later, Merry tore out of the office as if being chased by bees, carrying a thick slug of papers and the house key. Her heart was pounding and her stomach roiling with acid. Oxford’s personality sure matched his alligator shoes. He was scaly and aggressive.

He hadn’t said one personal word about the child! Not one! Her mind was still ranting when she climbed back in her car…until she glanced at the rearview mirror and saw her eyes spitting tears. Okay. So she tended toward overemotional. But that little girl needed someone who gave a damn.

Not just someone who wanted to administer her socalled estate from behind a black lacquer desk.

She couldn’t wait to get her hands on Charlene.