Baby On His Hollywood Doorstep

“The one who was at the door when I came back from lunch.” She pointed to a sack on the desk. “She gave me that bag of diapers and milk and said the baby’s name is Grace and that she needs her father. Mr. McCarney.”

His blood turned to ice. He’d thought he’d seen it all. Women had tried all sorts of things to catch his attention, to make them stars, but claiming he’d fathered their baby. That was a first. “Where is she now? The woman?”

“Can’t say for sure. She took off running like a swarm of bees were chasing her. Last I saw, Julia from across the street ran out to keep her from getting hit.” Miss Hobbs shook her head. “Cars were coming from both directions. It was as if she hadn’t even seen them.”

He should be concerned, ask if the woman had gotten hit, but he wasn’t in the mood to be charitable. “Did she go into Julia’s diner?”

“I don’t know. The phone was ringing. I had a baby in my hands.”

She looked thoroughly flustered. He couldn’t blame her.

He spun around and headed for the door. “I’ll be right back.” Whoever that baby belonged to needed to come and get her. Right now.

“I leave in half an hour.”

“I’ll be right back,” he repeated, almost to the door.

“I have a date!”

“I’ll pay you extra,” he said, marching out the door. He didn’t have time for this kind of baloney. He’d just been given his shot to move Star’s Studio up the ladder and wasn’t about to let anything get in his way. Nothing at all. No one at all.

There was a break in traffic, so he shot across the street.

Grant Collins and Max Houlihan walked out of the diner just as Jack stepped up on the curb. He’d worked with both of them in the past and would again if the time came around that he needed to fill the roles of unsophisticated rubes. They were slapstick funny when they wanted to be. But right now he didn’t have time to listen to them spill.

“Ham’s as good as ever,” Grant said, gesturing a thumb over his shoulder. “But you best get in there if you want any. Terry Jones is bellied up to the counter.”

Terry Jones outweighed all three of them put together and ate as if he was purely dedicated to adding notches to his belt buckle. He was a heavyweight. Had been a boxer at one time, and was now the best set builder in all of Tinseltown.

Jack was no longer hungry, but even in more of a hurry to get inside. “Good to know,” he said, stepping around them to enter the diner.

The tables were all full, so were most of the stools that lined the counter. He had no idea what the woman he was looking for might look like, but recognized enough about the people filling the diner to believe none of them were her. He headed toward the counter and the door behind it that led to the kitchen.

“Hey, McCarney,” Terry Jones greeted from where he sat on the first stool. Jones popped an entire bun in his mouth. Whole. And swallowed it like a Labrador, one gulp, no chewing.

Jack didn’t know if he should nod, or shake his head. Instead of doing either, he grabbed ahold of Rosie’s arm, one of the girls who waited tables, as she walked past. “Where’s Julia?”

“Where do you think she is?” Rosie nodded her head toward the kitchen door.

He’d never been in the kitchen before. Had never had a reason to go back there, before today.

Greta, the other waitress, walked out the door, and he had to step aside so she had enough room for the laden tray she was carrying. Both she and Rosie had come to him begging for an audition at one time. Joe hadn’t sent them. Nor had he sent hundreds of other women. They’d come on their own. The population of LA grew by the thousands every year. People from all walks of life, from all corners of the world, arrived daily, dazzled by the idea of stardom, thinking all they had to do was arrive in Hollywood and all their dreams would come true.

They had reason to believe that might happen. Movie theaters were springing up across the nation, demanding new picture shows daily. Over eight hundred films had been produced last year alone, and more would be this year, giving the public what they were clamoring for. However, it was the magazines and newspapers that suckered people in. They wrote stories of filmmakers on the lookout for talent. Encouraged people to come to LA. Trouble was, those stories were more fictional than the movies being filmed.

He’d long ago grown tired of being the one to shatter the dreams of so many. The truth hurt, and the truth was, moviemaking was a cutthroat industry. Those who were in, were in, those who weren’t, weren’t, and most likely never would be. A very small percentage of the people who’d come to him truly had the talent they’d need to make it in the film industry. Fewer had the resolve. It wasn’t an easy profession, or as glamorous as people thought.

Rosie and Greta had both been upset with him at first, but had gotten over it.

As soon as Greta was out of the way, he pushed open the swinging door of the kitchen.

Julia was at the stove, but it was the woman washing dishes that caught his eye. He didn’t recognize her, and would have if he’d ever seen her before. Although partially hidden behind a pair of glasses, she had an extremely unique set of pale blue eyes. So unique they made him wish the ability to film in color had already been perfected. It would be, some day. And eyes like that would stand out on the big screen. Without the glasses, of course.

“Jack, what are you doing back here?”

He pulled his gaze from the woman and turned to where Julia stood near the stove. Dressed as usual in pink from head to toe, except for the black net that held her dark hair back, she frowned at him.

“There was a woman earlier, running across the street,” he said. “Do you know where she went?”

Julia’s frown increased as she looked at him, then at the woman washing dishes.

A shiver rippled down his spine as he turned in the direction of the sink again. This time he gave her a long appraisal. From the toes of her scuffed brown shoes to the top of her head, where a mass of glistening brown hair was pinned in a soft roll around the base of her head. Except for several corkscrew bangs that hung down and caught on her long eyelashes as she blinked behind those wire-rimmed glasses and settled that unique light blue gaze on him.

Her eyes weren’t the only unique, striking thing about her. The shape of her face was perfect, elegant, her poise graceful, and her skin was flawless. Unblemished and not covered with cosmetics. It was creamy and tinged pink naturally in all the right places. Even her lips had a natural shine about them and were perfectly bowed in the center.

Maybe he should audition her. Even with black-and-white filming, those eyes would stand out. All of her would.

He had to shake his head to get his thinking straight. “You? You’re the woman who dropped a baby off at my studio?”

Shock covered her face as her mouth dropped open.

“A baby?”

“Yes,” Jack said in response to Julia’s question without taking his eyes off the other woman. “A baby.”

“I thought she was just one more wannabe actress, crying her eyes out over not getting an audition,” Julia said.

Anger flared inside him as the woman just stood there, looking at him like he was the oddest thing she’d ever seen. Ignoring Julia’s explanation, he said to the woman, “I have no idea who are you, but you must really think I’m a sap. Let me tell you, I’m not.” He took a step closer and continued in a low, raspy whisper, “I’ve met a lot of two-bit dames looking to make a name for themselves, but never have I had one sink so low as to accuse me of being a father in order to further their own ambitions.” He pointed a finger at the door. “That’s not my child. I know that and you know that, so hightail yourself across the street and collect your baby.”

She blinked several times. Then, shaking her head, whispered, “You aren’t Joe McCarney?”

“No, I’m not, I’m—” Realization hit like a bolt of lightning.

Damn it, Joe! Jack wanted to shout that, several times over. You’ve gone too far this time!

Chapter Two

Helen’s heart was so far into her throat, it was strangling her. Fighting through the pressure, she asked, “Who are you? Where’s Grace? Is she all right?”

“I’m Jack McCarney. And your baby, Grace, is across the street. At the studio.”

“You left her alone?” Helen untied the apron and pulled it off.

“She’s not alone. She’s with my secretary. The same one you left her with hours ago.”

Helen was fighting hard not to run across the street to get back to Grace. She’d fought it all afternoon. A part of her had kept telling herself to get as far away as possible, but the other part of her had refused, saying she had to stay long enough to make sure Grace was fine. From a distance.

At some point, while she’d been crying her eyes out, Julia had offered her a job of washing dishes to pay for room and board for a few days.

Julia assured that was common practice for her. That she often allowed girls needing a place to stay to reside with her in the small house behind the diner until they were able to acquire lodging elsewhere. Julia also hadn’t pried. She’d never once asked why she was here, crying her eyes out. And Helen had been too weak to say no, to refuse the offer of a job and accommodation, because it would mean that she’d be able to make sure that Grace would be okay. Would be cared for. Loved.

A shiver rippled Helen’s spine as the man before her ran a hand through his hair.

His blond hair.

“What did you say your name is?” she asked. He certainly wasn’t the man in the picture with Vera. That man, Joe McCarney, had black hair.

“Jack McCarney,” he answered.

A leering glare from his brown eyes settled on her so fully, so completely, her entire body quivered.

Oh, dear Lord, what had she done?

She was almost afraid to ask, but had to. “Are you related to Joe McCarney?”

“I’m his brother.”

“Joe McCarney is Grace’s father.” Hoping to justify what she’d done, she added, “All I had was the address across the street.”

“Jack—” Julia started.

“Joe isn’t any more that baby’s father than I am,” he barked.

The disapproval in Julia’s face sent another shiver racing over Helen. “Yes, he is,” she said. “I have proof.”

He scowled. “Proof? What sort of proof.”

“A—a marriage license and a wedding picture,” she answered. “They are in my purse. I should have left them with Grace, but forgot about them.”

“Forgot? How could you forget about your marriage license? Your wedding picture?”

Shaking all the way to her core, Helen didn’t have the wherewithal to point out his mistake. “Is Joe across the street?”

“No, Joe isn’t across the street.” He grabbed her arm. “But that’s where you’re going. To collect your baby.”

She considered refusing, but if Joe wasn’t there, she couldn’t leave Grace with this beast of a man.

“You’ll be without a dishwasher for a while, Julia,” he said while marching toward the door.

“Stop,” Helen said, digging her heels into the black-and-white-tiled floor. “I need to get my purse.”

“No, you don’t.”

She refused to move, even though he pulled on her arm. “Yes, I do.”

He let her go. “Fine. Get your purse.”

She hurried across the room, into the little backroom where she’d cried her eyes out most of the afternoon.

Julia was on her heels. “What were you thinking? Dropping a baby off at Jack’s door?”

“I thought it was Joe’s door. He’s Grace’s father. I promised her mother, Vera, on her deathbed that I would bring Grace to him.”

“So the baby isn’t yours?”

“No, she’s not mine. I wouldn’t drop my baby off with some stranger.” Guilt struck her hard and fast. She shouldn’t have dropped Grace off, either. Disgraced by her own actions, she dropped her head. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“It’ll be all right,” Julia said, rubbing her arm. “You can come back here. Our deal still stands, a job for room and board, for both you and the baby.”

Helen didn’t know what to say, other than, “Thank you.”

“Jack is Joe’s brother. The good son. He’s just upset right now. Joe was blackballed from Hollywood over two years ago, and Jack is still cleaning up the messes his brother left behind when he hightailed it out of the state.” Julia shook her head again. “Looks like Joe left him with another one.”

Helen’s heart dropped. “Joe isn’t even in California?”

“No, he left two years ago, and hasn’t been back.”

“Oh, dear.” Helen took off her glasses and wiped at her stinging eyes. Vera had never mentioned that Joe had a brother. She only ever talked about Joe, and how he was coming back. Coming back for her and the baby. Someday.

Perhaps she should have listened to Mr. Amery when he said going to California was a bad idea. That there was no telling what could happen to her and Grace, on the way or once they got here. He’d been kind to Helen after the deaths of her family, giving her a job at his grocery and renting out the apartment above the store to her, and though he’d been a bit begrudging at first, he had let Vera move in as well. Despite all, he’d been very good to both Vera and Grace upon the birth of the baby.

What would happen now? If Joe wasn’t in California, what would she do with Grace?

She had to go get her, that was a given.

“I’ll be back,” she told Julia while picking up her purse. “Thank you, again.”

Jack was still in the kitchen, pacing near the door. He stopped and stared at her as she left the back room.

“Are you ready now?”

“Yes.” In the three months since Grace had been born, they’d never been apart, and excitement at seeing the baby, holding her, increased the speed of Helen’s footsteps. “I’m ready.”

“Let’s go.” Jack pulled open the kitchen door and held it as she crossed over the threshold.

All eyes seemed to land on them, and followed her and Jack as he grasped her elbow and led her through the restaurant toward the door. It was more than uncomfortable, it was unnerving, and, as if she needed an extra reminder, it reinforced exactly why she’d brought Grace to California. She couldn’t be seen. She couldn’t be dragged back to the life she’d been running from ever since that awful night. Her parents and brother had died in the raid at the restaurant, but she hadn’t. She and Karen had run down the hallway, along with a crowd of others, and down to the basement where they raced through a maze of tunnels that had brought them outside in an alley, blocks away from the restaurant.

Her uncle hadn’t died either, and upon discovering that she was staying with Karen, had sent men to collect her. Despite Karen’s warnings that there was no escaping the family, Helen had run again. She hadn’t wanted that life before the raid, and certainly didn’t afterward. The violence had only grown after the raid that night. There were shoot-outs in all sections of the city, at all times of the day and night. So many that the newspapers, which she read every night after stocking shelves and scrubbing the floors at the grocery store, couldn’t keep up.

Thankfully, her uncle hadn’t found her, but it was only a matter of time. She knew that deep inside and that was the reason she’d brought Grace to California. She’d been saving every penny to eventually get away from Chicago, but Grace was the catalyst that made it even more necessary. She’d had to get the baby away from the dangers of being anywhere near her.

Her heart sank. She still had to do that.

She had no reason to believe that someone hadn’t recognized her or seen her as she’d left Chicago. The possibility of that was real. She’d learned a lot during the past two years and knew the Outfit had eyes and ears everywhere. They’d bought off most every police precinct in Chicago, and she knew it was pure luck that she hadn’t already been found and taken back to her uncle.

Karen had said there was only one way to get out of their family and that it included a grave.

The walk across that dining room, with all eyes on her, seemed like the longest one of her life. She had to let out a sigh once it ended, but stepping into the open air wasn’t any better. She’d felt safe enough on the train, had sat way in the back and kept her head down; but here, she was in the open. The wide open.

The traffic was minimal and it was hard for her not to run across the street.

When they arrived at the other side, the woman she’d handed Grace to earlier opened the door.

“The baby’s is sleeping,” she said. “I put her on the couch in your office.”

Helen’s heart skipped a beat. Grace hadn’t rolled over yet, but could at any time, and fall off the sofa.

“Thank you, Miss Hobbs.” Jack held the door for her to walk out. “Good night.”

“Good night,” the woman said, shooting out the door.

“Where is your office?” Helen asked. “I need to check on Grace.”

He pointed at a door across the room. Helen hurried in that direction and then down a long hallway to an open door on the left.

Relief filled her as she entered the room and saw Grace sleeping on the sofa. There was a blanket rolled up beside her, so if she had rolled over, she wouldn’t have fallen off. Helen walked closer and laid a hand on the baby. It felt so good to touch her again. To see her. Being parted from her had been horrific—more than she could have ever expected.

Jack was in the doorway, staring at her. Helen’s throat thickened. No matter how much she’d missed Grace today, how much she loved her, she still had to do the right thing. Find Joe McCarney.

“She’s sleeping.” Helen had no idea why she said that aloud.

“I see that,” he said.

She nodded and then closed her eyes, willing for whatever strength there was inside her to reveal itself.

* * *

Jack experienced a bout of anger like never before. Not at her. At Joe. If this was Joe’s baby... What? What could he do about it? He didn’t have a clue as to where his brother might be.

He didn’t even know this woman’s name. Wasn’t sure he wanted to know. But, beneath her drab clothing, he saw how pretty she was, and that beauty would have attracted Joe’s attention.

His full attention.

“I—I know now that Gracie isn’t your child,” she said quietly. “And I apologize for just leaving her here, but she is your brother’s child. Joe’s. And this is the address that I had for him.”

There was no reason for his stomach to drop to his feet. That statement shouldn’t have surprised him. Joe had been giving this address out to women since he’d left. The bag of mail in the closet proved that.

“When did he give you this address?” Jack asked.

“He didn’t. If you have another address for him, I’d appreciate if you’d give it to me. I really need to find him. As soon as possible.”

The desperation in her voice was almost convincing. Of all the women who’d come begging for an audition, she might be the one who did have what it took to be an actress. Just his luck. “Then how did you get this address?” Another thought struck him. “Why didn’t he give it to you? If Joe really is the father to your baby?”

Her gaze fell to the floor. “Grace isn’t my baby.” She bit her lip and lifted those beautiful eyes back up to him. “Her mother was my friend, Vera. She passed away a few weeks ago. In Chicago.”

The pleading in those eyes unsettled him.

“Please, Mr. McCarney, if I can’t find Joe, Grace will be an orphan.”

The flop of his stomach was merited this time. Chicago. Last he heard, Joe was down in Florida, Miami, but he had been in Chicago a year ago. Working for the circus. Damn it, Joe!

Jack took a deep breath, and told himself that he still didn’t have enough information to believe this woman.

“Please, Mr. McCarney. All I’m asking is for you to tell me where I can find Joe. Grace needs her father. Her family. She has no one else.”

No matter how sincere this woman sounded, he had to be cautious. Joe could be anywhere and if he committed to the idea that Joe was the baby’s father, that would make him the baby’s uncle—a responsibility he didn’t need right now.

He pushed the heavy air out of his lungs. “Why should I believe anything you have to say?”

Something flashed in those unique blue eyes. He wasn’t exactly sure what, but suddenly felt a heavy burden stir deep within his chest. A familiar burden that felt too close to the sense of responsibility he’d felt almost his entire life.

“Because I’m telling the truth,” she said quietly. “I don’t want anything else from you. Just Joe’s whereabouts.”

Anger and frustration raced through him. He’d spent the last two years cleaning up messes his brother had left behind—wasn’t even half done—but wasn’t about to get pulled into another one of Joe’s problems. Not if he could help it. “I’d need proof.”

She tilted her head downward and looked over the rim of her glasses as she dug in her purse. “I have Vera and Joe’s wedding picture and marriage license, and I was there when Grace was born.”

He bit back a curse and told himself not to jump to conclusions. A wedding picture and marriage license. That would be proof all right. Or damaging evidence, depending on which way he wanted to look at this. Deep down, he knew she could be telling the truth. Women were drawn to Joe, and he to them. He’d almost married one or two in the past. Actually, three or four, until they’d figured out Joe wasn’t being faithful. That’s what had gotten him blackballed. Infidelity. That time it had been on the woman’s part, and her husband, another actor, hadn’t liked it in the least. Nor had the people they worked for.

“Would you like to see them?” she asked.

Frustration ate at his insides. He couldn’t have another scandal right now. This film meant too much. He’d worked so hard to get back to this point. The cusp of success. Self-made success.

He straightened his spine and rolled his shoulders back, telling himself not to get too caught up in this until he knew the truth. The entire truth. He had a film to make. One that would put Star’s Studio at the top of the charts. In theaters across the nation. He was so close, and had worked too hard keeping his reputation clean despite his brother’s shenanigans.

She was still standing near the sofa, with an envelope in her hand. He walked in that direction, but only as far as his desk, hating the fact that he was putting off the moment when she might just offer the proof of what she was saying. “What’s your name?”

There was a moment of hesitation in her eyes, on her face, but then with a soft sigh, she said, “Helen. Helen Hathaway.”

He leaned against his desk. “Well, Miss Hathaway...” He paused as another thought struck. “It is Miss, isn’t it? Or are you married?” He knew of more than one woman who’d left a husband behind to come to Hollywood. One had told him she’d left five children behind and needed an acting job in order to send money back home in order to feed them. The sad thing was, he’d known she’d been telling the truth.

“No. I mean yes. It’s Miss, I’m not married.”

Her stammering displayed her nervousness, so did her stance. It looked as if she was about to jump out of her shoes, or run for the door.

He nodded and then finished what he’d been about to say earlier. “The last I heard about Joe is that he’s in Florida.”

“Florida?” She turned and stared at the couch, at the baby sleeping there.

“Yes, Florida.”

“Oh, dear.”

He shot across the room as all color left her face. Not sure what to do, because she hadn’t fainted, but was swaying slightly, he asked, “Do you need to sit down?”

She nodded.

He took her arm, guided her a couple of steps backward and onto the opposite end of the couch from where the baby was sleeping.

Despair filled her eyes as she said, “Florida is so far away.”

It was, but he wasn’t concerned about that. “Do you need a drink of water?”