Underfoot

When she’d first learned she was pregnant, she’d panicked and considered terminating the pregnancy. She wasn’t in a position to be a mother. Her apartment was too small. She didn’t have a husband. Plus she had a mother who would die if her daughter became an unwed mother. Aside from that, Trina had plans that didn’t include children until, if, or when she should get married. And there was the fact that Trina had no mommy skills. Heck, she hadn’t even done much babysitting during her teen years. What did people do with babies anyway? They seemed like little savages that cried and peed and cried and pooped and cried and ate and cried some more.

So the obvious choice had been to call the doctor to do the deed and not be pregnant anymore. She’d made a mental note to call the doctor to make an appointment tomorrow, but she’d been too busy that day. And the next tomorrow, she’d felt creepy about calling, which was hormonal, she was certain. So she told herself she would call when she didn’t feel creepy about it, when she felt confident and sure and had no regrets.

That tomorrow had never arrived.

She’d hid her pregnancy reasonably well until her sixth month when her abdomen had sprouted outward. She’d avoided face-to-face contact with her mother by claiming business was taking her out of town. Lord knew, her mother could smell weight gain of anything over a pound.

People at work had reacted with surprise and curiosity. Trina had reacted as if it were perfectly normal for her to be pregnant. Pretty soon, the questions died down.

Her mother, however, had gone into a hysterical frenzy that had required heavy doses of sedatives. She’d locked herself in her bedroom for a solid week.

Trina had secretly hoped she would stay locked up longer, say a year. Or two.

Trina glanced down at Maddie, asleep on her lap. Her dark eyelashes stood out against her fair complexion. Trina had fallen in love with her daughter at first sight. What she didn’t know about child rearing could fill a library, but she understood a few things about what her daughter needed. Love, food, sunshine, a bath, sleep and her mother.

Trina figured she would learn what she needed to know along the way. Lifting Maddie against her chest, she carried her to the crib marked with her name and laid her down, her heart full at the sight of her baby.

Waving to the teachers, she left to return to her office.

DESPITE TRINA’S BEST EFFORTS, Dora continued her inquisition about Walker throughout the afternoon. Every mention of his name shredded her nerves even more. Bamboo sticks under her fingernails or water torture would have been easier to bear.

Promising herself she would buy Lean Cuisine the next time she got to the grocery store, Trina picked up Maddie and grabbed a take-out sandwich through a drive-thru while Maddie sang in her car seat in the back seat.

Before she arrived at her town house, she smelled a distinctive scent that told her the first thing she would be doing when she got inside would be changing Maddie’s diaper.

Grabbing Maddie’s bag and her carryout sandwich, she walked inside, dumped both bags in the foyer and immediately headed for the nursery.

Just as she put on a fresh diaper, the doorbell rang three times. Trina paused. The doorbell rang again, this time five times and Trina tensed. Her mother.

“Please tell me I still have some wine in the fridge,” she said to Maddie.

Maddie gave an unintelligible but sympathetic sounding response.

“Carter-Aubrey?” her mother called from the now open doorway. “Carter-Aubrey, are you there?”

Trina groaned. Her mother refused to call her by her preferred middle name. The other two just did not fit her at all. “I’m here, Mother,” she called from the top of the stairs.

“Thank God you’re okay,” said Aubrey Carter-Elizabeth with a perfect hairstyle, dyed perfectly auburn. She wore a perfect size-four suit and sported a perfect manicure. “I looked at the mess in this foyer and was afraid your house had been looted.”

“Just needed to make a quick diaper change,” she said. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, look at her. She’s a mess. Nanna Aubrey will get you shiny clean in no time,” she said, reaching for her granddaughter. She glanced down at the fast-food bag on the floor. “Dear, you really need to eat better food. You’ll never lose your baby weight if you keep eating that stuff.”

“Thanks for the encouragement, Mother,” Trina said with a heavy trace of sarcasm.

“I’m just looking out for your best interest. Someday you may meet the right man who will be a good father for our little Madeline and you want to be ready.”

Meaning Trina clearly wasn’t ready today.

Her mother studied her suit jacket. “What is that?” she asked, scraping her fingernail over the sleeve.

Trina glanced down and shrugged. “Oatmeal? Applesauce? I dunno. I don’t have anything to offer you except baby food and half my sandwich. Are you interested?”

“No, thank you,” her mother said, wrinkling her nose. “I just came over to see Madeline and drop off the application for the Ambrose school for girls. You probably should have signed her up the day she was born. They have a very long waiting list. It’s so competitive to get in, but since you, your grandmother and I graduated from Ambrose, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Trina felt her stomach twist as she led the way into her kitchen. “I haven’t decided if Ambrose is the best place for Maddie. I’m looking into the Montessori school.”

Aubrey gasped. “Not there. Oh, darling, there’s hardly any structure, no uniforms and she’ll never meet the right people.”

Trina bit her tongue and lifted her fingers into a peace sign, the sign she used to tell her mother she was overstepping her bounds. Again.

Aubrey dropped her mouth. “Oh, you can’t think I’m interfering by merely bringing over an application. And speaking to Owen Randall in admissions,” she added.

Trina continued to hold her peace sign.

Audrey sighed. “May I give her a bath?”

“She’ll love it.”

Aubrey beamed at Madeline. “She’s as beautiful a baby as you were. You did well.” She tossed Trina a sideways glance. “Although it would have been nice if you’d at least married her father.”

“Life’s not perfect,” Trina said. “You should know. And remember our agreement about the discussion of that subject.” If Aubrey didn’t bring up the subject of Maddie’s father or Trina’s love-life disaster when she’d been nineteen, then Trina had agreed not to bring up the subject of her father or the fact that he’d died due to an automobile accident when he’d been arguing with her mother.

Her mother sighed because her life wasn’t going as planned, either. Aubrey was determined to hang on to the family home despite the fact that she didn’t have nearly enough money for the upkeep. Her mother had married her father for his nouveau riche money. Her father had married her mother for her name, which provided him, an outsider, a way into Atlanta’s upper class. Unfortunately her father had lost most of the money in court, suing over principle. After years spent in court, he’d lost his fight and died a month later, leaving her mother with bills.

Trina had long encouraged her mother to sell the estate to someone who could afford to refurbish it, but her mother, who had apparently watched Gone with the Wind way too many times, had cast herself in the role of Scarlett, determined to hang on to the family land.

Too much melodrama for Trina. She was happy with her condo, Jacuzzi bathtub, and loved the fact that her community association fees covered all the lawn work.

“You want to feed her, too?” Trina asked gently.

Her mother nodded.

“Fine. I’ll get an apron for you.”

CHAPTER FIVE

AFTER FIRING STEPHANIE and temporarily commandeering his partner’s longtime admin assistant, putting together a skeleton ad and calling in favors to get a cameraman, producer and some actors, Walker dragged himself into his condo.

He heard a ball game blaring from the television and smelled the combined scents of a Dominican cigar and burger and fries.

Everything his uncle Harry wasn’t supposed to be consuming with the exception of alcohol.

Walker felt a headache pound through his skull. He knew why he’d been chosen to provide a place for Uncle Harry after his uncle had spent a couple weeks in a rehab facility following bypass surgery. Uncle Harry trusted Walker. Plus Walker was financially independent and the Gordon family had a sketchy history with finances, banks, taxes and creditors.

He shrugged out of his jacket as he walked through the wooden foyer toward the den. His balding, hard-of-hearing uncle sat in Walker’s favorite chair, holding a cigar in one hand and a beer in the other. A telltale bag advertising a fast-food burger joint lay crumpled on the TV tray beside Harry.

With a sigh, Walker crept behind his uncle and plucked the cigar and beer out of his hands.

“Hey! What are you—” Harry jerked around with an expression of indignation that quickly changed to a cagey grin. “Walker, my boy, I was wondering when you would get here.”

“Obviously should have been sooner,” Walker muttered. “You know you’re not supposed to be smoking and drinking. And why bother with the bypass surgery if you’re going to clog up your veins the second you get out of the hospital?”

“I haven’t had a burger in months,” Harry complained, pressing the remote to lower the TV volume. “I was due.”

“How’d you get this stuff? I can’t believe that home health aide allowed this.”

“Oh, I sent her home early,” Harry said with a dismissive wave. “And you know I’m supposed to take short walks. I chatted with one of the security guards. Real nice guy. I told him I thought I could get him a good deal on a double-wide for his thirty-year-old stepson that refuses to leave his house. He brought me dinner after he got off his shift.”

“Did he bring the beer and cigar?” Walker asked, feeling like a mother and not liking it.

Uncle Harry lifted his mouth in a craggy grin. “I keep a stash handy. Hey, it’s not like they’re Cuban. Cubans are overrated anyway.”

“And the beer?”

“Was under your bed,” Harry said and wagged his head from side to side. “Pretty lame, boy. I would have expected better from you.”

Walker rested his hands on his hips and bit his tongue to keep from laughing. His uncle Harry had shown up for graduations and contributed money at times when he, his mother, sister and brother had been broke.

Of course, nowadays his mother, brother and sister still had times when they provided the giant sucking sound in Walker’s bank account. Or Harry’s. Depending on which one picked up their cell phone first.

“Gimme back my beer and tell me what you did at work today, boy,” Harry said.

“No,” Walker said and took the beer and cigar to the kitchen. He dumped the beer down the drain, stubbed out the cigar and grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge. Returning to the den, he twisted the top off one and gave it to his uncle.

Harry made a face, but took a long draw.

“I almost lost a big account today.”

Harry nodded, his gaze turning serious. “Almost means you can still keep it.”

“Yeah,” Walker said. “Bellagio Shoes.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Bellagio. That Tarantino girl who dumped you at that altar in front of God and everybody. Wasn’t she related to those Bellagios?”

“Yeah,” Walker said and took a drink of water, wishing it was bourbon, not because he’d lost Brooke, but because he didn’t want to lose the Bellagio account.

“That’s why I never got married,” Harry said.

“Because you were afraid of being dumped at the altar?”

“No. Because of the Gordon curse,” Harry said. “We stink in the marriage and fatherhood department.”

“I thought it was more of a fatherhood issue. Brooke and I had agreed not to have children.”

Harry snorted. “Talk to your mom if you think it’s just fatherhood. How you gonna keep the account?”

“They like me and trust me. They know I deliver. But they probably think I should have been able to keep my woman under control.” Walker took another draw from his bottle of water. “I need to produce a bang-up commercial fast. If I can pull a few key Bellagio people onto my side, I think I can keep the account. Especially since I’m staying in Atlanta.”

Walker thought of Trina and frowned. He wondered why she had been so reticent with him. He’d enjoyed their friendship before he’d left for France. Trina had been fun to be around. He’d felt as if he could let down his guard with her and everything would be okay. Plus she had assured him that their one-night stand hadn’t meant anything to her. Now, he didn’t know what to think.

“By the way, your phone rang a couple of times, but I didn’t pick up,” Harry said. “Caller ID looked like it may have been your brother.”

“BJ usually calls the house first,” Walker said, wondering if his brother’s latest troubles were financial or personal. “I’ll call him. Enjoy the game, but don’t sneak any more cigars or beer tonight.”

Harry made a face. “Okay,” he conceded. “I won’t tonight.”

Walker walked upstairs to his home office and sank into the leather chair behind his desk. He picked up the phone and dialed the latest number his brother had given him at the same time he opened a desk drawer and pulled out his checkbook. Conversations with BJ almost always involved his checkbook. He didn’t resent it. He was just glad he had the ability. Someone had to make up for his father.

One half of a ring later, he heart his brother’s voice. “Walker?”

“BJ, what’s up?” Walker asked, rubbing his face. “Everything okay?”

“Could be better,” BJ said. “I got a woman pregnant.”

Walker’s stomach clenched.

“Are you sure the baby is yours? You use protection, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but this girl, she seems pretty sure.”

“Girl,” Walker echoed. “Tell me she’s over eighteen,” he said, praying his brother hadn’t knocked up an underage teenager.

“She’s twenty-two,” BJ said and paused. “I think she wants me to marry her.”

Walker closed his eyes and could barely stifle a groan. His younger brother had tried to pull off a lot of crazy ventures over the years—trying to use chicken manure for fuel, pet time-share sales, propelling a chain letter he was certain would yield him a fortune, real estate agent for a Caribbean island that didn’t exist.

Walker had bailed him out with repeated warnings. He and his brother parted ways on many things, but one area on which they’d always agreed had been the subject of fathering. Don’t just say no. Say never.

“Walker, I know we always said we wouldn’t have any children, but I gotta tell you I want to be a good father for this baby. I want to be a husband for Danielle. I never thought I would say it, but I want to be a family man.”

For how long? Walker wondered. In all the time Walker had known his brother, BJ had exhibited the staying power of a fly. “BJ, this isn’t another business investment you can dump and move on to another one. This is a human being. A person. Do you really want to take on that responsibility? And this girl? Do you love her enough to stick with her and try to get a real job and earn a real living?”

“I know the baby’s a human being, and yeah, I do love Danielle. I have for a while now. I just didn’t want to tell you. I can tell you don’t believe in me. Can’t say I blame you.”

“I didn’t say I don’t believe in you,” Walker replied. “I’ve always said you had great potential.”

“And you’ve always gotten me out of trouble. You know I can be a hard worker, though,” BJ said.

“Yeah,” Walker admitted. Hard, just not all that focused.

“So, Danielle and I think it would be better for us to move to Atlanta. I’d like to go to work for you, big brother. It’s always been my dream.”

Alarm shot through him. Despite the Bellagio principle of having all those relatives work for the same organization, he’d always firmly believed that family working for family was not a good idea. In fact, it was a horrible idea.

“I can do it,” BJ continued. “I’ll do anything you ask. I’ll run errands. I’ll answer the phone. I’ll help you sell advertising. Just give me a chance.”

Walker cleared his throat. “I’m not sure you would be happy in the advertising field, BJ. You have a lot of entrepreneurial spirit. That’s great, but sometimes it makes it hard to take orders from someone else.”

“Walker, I need to make a fresh start if I’m going to make this work. I need your help like I’ve never needed it before. I gotta grow up and be somebody else’s daddy.”

THE NEXT MORNING, Trina’s supervisor, Ben Ferguson, invited her into his office and closed the door behind him. First clue that something unusual was up.

He sat across from Trina and looked at her for a moment. She returned his glance calmly, although her stomach twisted.

“There are some changes in the works. I need to know if you want my job.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“If I were to move up, are you sure you want my job?”

“Of course I do,” she said. “I’ve always wanted your job.”

He laughed. “That’s what I like about you, Trina. You want my job, but you don’t stab me in the back to get it. You help me get promoted instead.”

She smiled. “What I like about you is that you realize I’m trying to help you.”

“You’ve made me look good. Good enough that I’m filling in for Anthony Tarantino’s VP spot this summer. He’s talking about retiring.”

“That’s great,” she said. “You’ve got to be pleased.”

“I am,” he said. “But I’m going to be in a limbo phase where I’m filling in for Anthony at the same time I’m still acting PR supervisor. If you’re really sure you want my position, then I need you to step up now.”

“I always have.”

“I hesitate to mention this, but you’ve had a baby and you’re a single parent. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Absolutely not,” Trina said, although she felt the slightest twist of uncertainty. “Women have been successfully multitasking for ages. Have you noticed a dip in my performance?”

“No. You’ve been late a few times and had to skip out early for a few doctor appointments, but you’ve always come through when Bellagio needed you.”

“Thank you for noticing,” she said.

Ben gave her another considering glance. “Okay. First order of business is Walker Gordon.”

Trina’s heart leapt. “You want me to fire him?”

Ben laughed. “Hell, no. The board is still partial to him even after the Brooke fiasco. There’s a point person assigned to him from marketing and we need a point person from PR. That would be you.”

She swallowed a gasp. “I thought he still needed to present a commercial before the board approved him.”

Ben shrugged. “Yeah. It better be a decent commercial. But when has Walker done anything that wasn’t stellar? As long as Bellagio has his personal attention and he’s got his game going, we’re going to go with him this time. Marc Waterson himself told me.”

She swallowed seven swear words. How was she supposed to work with Walker? If he was going to stay in Atlanta, she was going to have to tell him about Maddie.

Her expression must have revealed her lack of enthusiasm. “You don’t look happy about it. I always got the impression that you and Walker got along well.”

“We did,” she said without much conviction.

Ben wrinkled his brow. “Has something happened that I need to know—”

“Oh, no,” she said quickly, her heart racing at the lie. She prayed the color of her cheeks didn’t betray her. “I, uh—” She cleared her throat and gave a tight smile as she manufactured a reason for her response. “I just thought Bellagio would benefit from a fresh point of view. In terms of advertising.”

Ben relaxed. “I see your point, but you gotta admit Walker has always done a good job for us. So we’ll see how he handles the next campaign. And of course since you’re the point person, it will be your job to make sure it’s a success,” Ben half joked, pausing when she remained silent.

“If you think it’s going to be too much, we could turn it over to Dora.”

“Oh, no,” Trina said, feeling protective of her job, her future, her baby’s future. “I’m up for it.”

“Just because I’ll be upstairs doesn’t mean you can’t call me for anything,” he assured her.

“Thanks and congratulations,” she said, rising to her feet.

“Yeah.” He stood, too. “Don’t spread it around. Nothing’s official yet.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later,” Trina said and left his office, her mind whirling. This was the promotion she had been working for since she’d started at Bellagio. She’d called in favors from old schoolmates to get exposure for Bellagio. She’d worked late and sacrificed. Finally, it was within sight. The promotion was more important than ever to her now that she was in charge of Maddie’s welfare. Trina knew she could do the job. She also knew she would need support. Someone who could do her grocery shopping, occasionally prepare meals and take care of Maddie when Trina needed to work late. Her stomach twisted at that last possibility, but she didn’t dwell on it.

Walking into her office, she opened a file on her computer and made notes about requirements for the position she needed. She sucked down a cup of coffee and called Bride Magazine to confirm a mention of Bellagio shoes in the June issue. It took some extra delving, but she learned the shoe size for the fashion editor at a top women’s magazine and arranged to send her pair of Bellagio sandals.

Grabbing a Diet Coke, she started to dial marketing when her phone rang. “Trina Roberts, hello.”

One beat of silence followed. “Trina, it’s Walker.”

Her throat tightened and she took a breath to help her relax. “Walker, hello.”

“I just talked to Ben and he told me you’re going to be one of my go-to people.”

“That’s what I hear,” she said with forced cheerfulness. “What can I do for you?”

“I thought it would be good to touch base with you about the commercial and my ideas. Is a drink after work okay?”

“Let me check my schedule and I’ll get right back to you. It might be easier for me if we meet at the office earlier in the afternoon.”

“I’m stuck all day shooting this commercial.”

“Okay, then let me call you back.” She hung up, hating the fact that her hands shook. She was going to have to get hold of herself. Reviewing her options, she called Jenny Prillaman.

“Hey, girl,” Jenny said with a smile in her voice. “How’s your gorgeous baby?”

“Gorgeous and growing,” Trina said. “You offered to keep her every now and then. Any chance you could keep her for a little while this evening?”

“Oooh, hot date?” Jenny asked.

“Business.”

“Oh,” Jenny said in a disappointed tone. “I wish I could, but the wedding machine is in high gear and Marc and I have a meeting with the minister tonight.”

“That’s okay. No problem,” Trina said.

“But you have to promise that you’ll ask me again,” Jenny said.

“I promise,” Trina said, thinking Jenny had to be one of the sweetest people in the world. “But since you’re getting married soon, you may be starting on your own babies.”

“One thing at a time. Call me soon.”

“Sure thing,” Trina said and dialed the number of another friend who already had plans.

She winced as she regretfully dialed her last choice. “Mom, it’s Trina.”

“Hello, dear. I’m playing bridge.”

“Okay, I’ll keep it quick. Any chance you could pick up Maddie tonight and keep her for a little while?”

“Yes. Do you have a date?”

“No, business.”

“Oh,” her mother said, her voice full of disappointment. “I wish you would start—”

“Thanks so much, Mom. I shouldn’t be long. Just pick her up at the company day care. Kill ’em at bridge,” she said and hung up.

After work, Trina stopped by a salon close to the office and got a shampoo and blow-dry. With every sweep of the round brush, she rehearsed how to tell Walker about Maddie.