Christmas with Daddy

“Won’t you please tell me your birth date?”

He made a face. “I thought we agreed to disagree on that numerology stuff.”

“But aren’t you even curious?” She certainly was. “You might be surprised at what your life path number has to tell you.”

“I don’t think so.” He strapped his daughter into the stroller. Mandy clapped her hands together.

“By the way, I placed an order with Little Stork Diaper service today.”

“Jessica left me with enough diapers for at least a month.”

“She left you disposable diapers, Nick. Have you forgotten our deal?”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “No. But I was hoping you would.”

“Using cloth rather than disposable reduces the waste in our landfills by about two tons per child.”

“That’s got to be an exaggeration.”

She raised her eyebrows.

He sighed with apparent resignation. “Will I have to wash them?”

“No. Once a week, the diaper service picks up the soiled diapers and leaves us with more clean ones.”

“We have to keep the dirty diapers for a week?” Nick looked disgusted by the prospect.

“In a special solution in a covered container. Don’t worry. It shouldn’t smell.” She hoped.

“God, Bridget, I don’t know. What if I promise to recycle absolutely everything I use for the rest of my life…after Mandy’s out of diapers.”

He gave her a smile so charming she almost caved. How could any woman say no to this man? But in all good conscience, she could not use disposable diapers when there were other more ecologically kind alternatives.

She was about to give him a lecture, when he backed down on his own.

“We had a deal. Yeah, I remember. I’ll use the cloth diapers, Bridge. Is there anything else?”

“Organic, homemade, baby food,” she reminded him brightly. “I made a batch of rice sweet potato and another of barley carrot this afternoon after our walk. I froze them in ice-cube containers. You can feed Mandy one for dinner tonight.”

“Rice sweet potato, huh?”

“She’ll love it. Just thaw it in the microwave, then serve.” She removed the plastic bag from her freezer and stowed it in the diaper bag.

“Sounds simple enough, even for me.” He had started to wheel the stroller down the hall when he suddenly noticed her display of Christmas cards.

“What the hell.” He picked up one of the cards, frowned, then glanced at her. “Where did you get this?”

She took the card from his hand, slightly annoyed by his tone. “In the mail. Why?”

“You know Attorney General Lang?”

“His wife is a client of mine.”

Nick let out a low whistle. “Interesting.”

“Why is this such a big deal? Do you know the Lang family?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He removed a photograph from his shirt pocket and showed it to her.

Annabel’s daughter stared up at her.

Why did Nick have a picture of Tara? Before she could ask the question, she knew the answer. “Tara is the runaway you’re looking for.”

CHAPTER SIX

“THAT’S RIGHT,” Nick said, his expression serious.

“Annabel didn’t tell me.” Bridget had guessed something was wrong, but she hadn’t realized it was this serious. Oh, God. Poor Annabel.

“You’ve talked to Annabel recently?” Nick asked.

“She was here last night, wanting me to do an analysis for her daughter. She admitted that she was worried about Tara. But she didn’t tell me she’d run away from home.”

Bridget studied the photograph again. This closeup provided a much clearer portrayal of Tara than the family picture on the Christmas card. Tara was at that awkward adolescent stage, not yet pretty, but with potential. While the picture wasn’t flattering, it had captured a lot of emotion.

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