Brought Together by Baby

“I’ve been in touch with the director. Said he’ll see what he can do.”

“I really don’t know how good a match the donor and recipient are in this case.” Rachel tugged on her earlobe, pacing the carpet. “LaReese likes control but so does Barnabas.”

A faint knock at the door of the study interrupted her train of thought. Frowning, she glanced up. “Yes?”

Eli stood in the doorway, filling it with his height. “Your mother asked me to tell you that they’ll be serving cake and coffee in the gazebo.”

“Thank you. I’ll be with you all in a couple of minutes.” She gave him a tight smile, feeling suddenly awkward. They hadn’t started off on the right foot and that scene with Gracie hadn’t helped.

But he turned on his heel and strode away before she had a chance. It shouldn’t have bothered her, but she had a vague sense of discomfort.

She turned her attention back to Reuben, wondering why she cared what Gracie’s attractive pediatrician thought of her. “Tell Mrs. Binet that I’ll be by in…” She glanced quickly at the grandfather clock in the corner of her father’s study. “About forty-five minutes.”

“I hate to pressure you, Rachel, but could you make it sooner?”

“That is sooner. My goodness, Reuben, she lives right on the edge of Winchester Park. I’ll be lucky to get there that soon by the time I’ve parked and walked up to her condo,” Rachel said. “I just have to say goodbye to my parents. And then I’ll be on the road.”

“Okay, then. I’ll probably be there when you arrive.”

Rachel pressed the button to end the call, biting her lip. Her parents wouldn’t be happy, but there was nothing she could do about it. LaReese Binet was too important to the Foundation. She was a regular contributor and a part of Rachel’s network whenever she needed to pad out a guest list for celebrity events.

LaReese had come into a great deal of money when her husband died and had already been approached by every possible organization that could find her number and pester her. If Rachel did not handle this woman exactly right, LaReese could easily decamp and end up giving her money to the smoothest-talking charlatan that came down the pike.

And there were enough of them. It made Rachel’s blood boil every time she heard of organizations that seemed legitimate but ended up taking up to eighty percent of their client’s money in so-called “administration fees.”

Her parents were already sitting in the gazebo, tall cups of iced tea on the wicker and glass table in front of them, when Rachel rejoined them. Gracie was playing on a large blanket at their feet, looking content and perfectly normal. She smiled up at Rachel, her light brown eyes sparkling in the early evening light. She was adorable—that much Rachel had to concede.

“Excuse me, Mom, Dad, Dr. Cavanaugh.” Her eyes grazed Eli, who was lounging in his wicker chair, swirling the ice cubes in his glass, looking too much at home. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to excuse myself. Reuben just called. We have an emergency with one of our clients.”

“Oh, honey, why don’t you let him take care of it?” Beatrice turned to her husband. “Charles, talk to her.”

Charles simply shrugged and smiled up at his daughter. “I wish you could stay, dear. We don’t get to see you very often. Gracie hardly knows you.”

“Besides, I have chocolate cake that Francine made just for you,” Beatrice added, her voice taking on a petulant tone. “You know your father and I don’t eat that kind of thing.”

“I’m really sorry, Mom, and I’d love to have some cake but—”

“I’ll pack some up for you.” Beatrice slipped out of her chair, waving at the men to stay in their seats. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

Rachel surreptitiously eased the cuff of her shirt up to catch a glimpse of her watch. She had given herself enough time to say goodbye, but at this rate she would have to risk a speeding ticket to get to LaReese’s place on time. As she shrugged her shirt into place, she caught Eli watching her, a half smile tugging on his lips. She held his gaze as if challenging his humor, but he didn’t even blink, or look away. Rachel wasn’t used to that. Most men were intimidated by her. And she liked to keep it that way.

“I heard that you’ve been talking to LaReese Binet,” her father was saying.

Rachel pulled her attention back to her father, taken aback by his words. Had she spoken LaReese’s name aloud?

“Oh, don’t get all confidential on me,” Charles said with a huge laugh. “Phillip Thewlis told me at the fifteenth hole at the new golf course.” He frowned. “Or maybe it was the fourteenth. I remember he was working his way out of the sand trap and I believe that’s on the fifteenth—no, wait…”

Don’t tap your foot. Don’t fidget.

Charles snapped his fingers. “What am I thinking of—it was the twelfth hole.” He shook his head as if surprised at his own foolishness. “Phillip heard from LaReese’s beloved nephew that she was eager to redeem herself by giving away a bit of the money she inherited when her husband died.”

Rachel would hardly call 2.3 million dollars “a bit” of money. That’s why the personal hand holding. LaReese had been making noises about putting her money into other places, and right now the Noble Foundation needed dollars if they were going to be able to fulfill all the requests they had earmarked for funding.

“Can’t buy redemption, you know,” Charles said sadly.

“I would like to tell her that. God’s love and sacrifice are the greatest free gifts known, or unknown in many cases, to man.”

Impatience with her father’s sermonizing flashed through Rachel, and right behind it, shame. Her father was sincere in his faith. That she didn’t share it wasn’t his fault. In fact, there was the occasional moment when she wished she shared his trust in God.

She glanced at Eli, wondering if her father’s easy mention of God created discomfort in him as well.

He was looking down at his hands, his expression serious as he rubbed the fingers of one hand over the back of the other, again and again. It was then she noticed the long jagged scar that ran from the knuckle of his pinky to the base of his thumb. It was white and puckered, as if it had been poorly stitched. She wondered if he’d gotten it riding his motorcycle.

At that moment he looked up at her, giving her a languid look that she was sure most women would find a challenge. She just found it annoying.

“Here’s your cake, dear.” Beatrice held out a large foam container.

“This is half of it,” Rachel exclaimed, weighing it in her hand.

“Your father and I won’t eat it—you may as well take it home.”

“Looks like chocolate cake is on the menu for my next few meals.”

“Honey, no.” Beatrice frowned and was about to take it away from her.

“No, you don’t.” Rachel winked at her mother as she pulled the container out of reach. “Don’t worry. I’m just kidding. I’ll have a piece tonight and take the rest to work. I’m sure Reuben and Lorna will be fighting over it.”

“Just make sure you do that,” Beatrice warned. “Now give me a kiss and you better get going.”

Rachel gave her mother a quick hug and a kiss, then bent over to do the same with Charles and Gracie.

Before she left, Rachel risked a glance at Eli. Her cheeks warmed when his eyes snagged hers. He was fifty feet away, but even across that distance his gaze felt as real as a touch.

As she walked to her car she shook the feeling off. Basic chemistry. That was all. He was good looking; they were both single.

Only, she wasn’t looking. She thought she’d made that clear to her parents when she moved back here. Guess it was time for the classic mother-daughter chat. In reverse.

Rachel stifled a yawn as she opened the file of the next item on the agenda. The meeting last night with LaReese Binet had taken too long and yielded too little.

“And how are we sitting on the dream home program for the children’s hospital?” she asked Lorna as she glanced through the file. The Noble Foundation took care of some of the hospital’s fund-raising activities, and next to the annual celebrity dinner and ball, this was their premier fund-raiser.

“I’ve got the mock-ups done on the brochures.” Lorna Kirkpatrick laid the papers on the low cherry-wood table between them. “The construction company was concerned about the placement of the name and logo, so I modified it. I hope it’s what you want.”

Rachel glanced over the brochure, frowning as she leaned back in the leather couch. “This blue is too flat.” Rachel circled the block of color behind the lettering, “And I’d like this yellow intensified. I’ll call them and let them know.”

“Why don’t you let me take care of that?” Lorna said.

“Thanks, Lorna, but I know exactly what I want to see.” Lorna nodded, but Rachel could see she wasn’t happy with the decision.

“Anything else you want me to do for now?” Lorna asked.

“You can see how Zoe and Hamilton are doing with the fund-raising for Nagy’s golf tournament. See if they need some help.”

Rachel laid her the papers with the changes on them on her desk and turned to Reuben as Lorna left the office. He didn’t look as if he had spent most of last night over endless cups of coffee convincing a finicky, elderly lady to wait with her donation while they did some background work on her charity of the day. “I imagine it’s a bit early to expect anything from you, Reuben.”

“Au contraire.” Reuben bent over and pulled a sheaf of papers out of his leather briefcase. “This is rough for now, but I printed this off their Web site…” He handed them to her. “I did some phoning around and got this from a source.” More papers. “And I had a personal chat with the head of the organization just before the meeting.”

Where did he get his energy? Rachel got tired just thinking about all he had accomplished after their meeting with LaReese.

“This is great, Reuben. Our next step is to check their charitable donation status and, if we can, get a copy of their mission statement and do some deeper background work on them.”

“Consider it done.” Reuben flashed a smile. “And while I’m at it, I thought I would check out a couple of other possible places, just to see what might interest her. Lorna has been looking, as well.”

Rachel frowned at him. “If LaReese gives her money to the Foundation, we have more than enough places that the money can go. I would like us to work with what we have. We’ll connect again as necessary.”

As Rachel pushed herself up from the couch, taking a moment to button up her suit jacket, Lorna buzzed her. Her mother was on the line.

“Thanks again, Reuben,” Rachel said before she picked up the handset. “For someone who has come on board only recently, you have done exceptional work.”

He gave her a nod, then turned and strode out of the office.

Rachel walked around her desk to drop into the large leather chair behind it. “Hello, Mother,” she said into the phone, “what can I do for you?”

“So businesslike.”

“Considering it’s your business I’m running, you should be pleased.” Rachel spun her chair around, looking out over the skyline of Chestnut Grove.

“Honey, I’m always pleased with you. You know that.”

“The chocolate cake was really good. Reuben and Lorna send their thanks.”

“I’m glad to know you shared it. But I have a favor to ask of you. Your grandfather wants us to come to Vermont in a couple of weeks, but I don’t dare take Gracie along quite yet. Would you be willing to baby-sit?”

Rachel clutched the phone. Willing? Maybe. Capable? No. “When would that be?” she asked, turning around to check her appointment book. Please let there be a conflict. Please.

“The last weekend of the month.”

Bingo. Charity fund-raiser. Big deal. Big celebrities.

“Sorry, Mom. I’m booked up.”

“Oh, dear. That was the only weekend your grandfather can have us.” She sighed lightly. “And I can’t leave Gracie with just anybody. She’s too fragile yet.”

So why would you leave her with me?

“Why don’t you talk to Dr. Eli about your predicament,” Rachel suggested. “Surely he could recommend a private nursing agency or something similar?”

“Eli stressed that Gracie stay with someone familiar, especially because Gracie’s natural mother was so casual with her care.”

She shouldn’t feel guilty, Rachel thought. It wasn’t her idea that her parents take this child on. And it wasn’t her fault that Gracie made her feel incompetent and helpless. Two feelings she had promised herself she would never allow to take over her life again.

“However, if you can’t take care of her, then you can’t,” her mother continued. “I’m sure Eli would know where we could bring Gracie.”

“I’m sure he would,” Rachel agreed, relief flooding her.

“And what did you think of Dr. Eli? He’s such a pleasant man. So good with Gracie.”

“He seemed very nice.” Now was the time to make it clear to her mother that her matchmaking wouldn’t work.

“But he’s not my type.”

“What did you say?”

The innocent tone of her mother’s voice almost fooled her. “The matchmaking stuff. Mom, please. You know I don’t have time for anyone right now.”

“You didn’t have time for anyone in the past eight years. You don’t have much of a social life. All you do is work.”

Rachel frowned, rocking her chair a little harder. “I need this work, Mom.” It was what gave her life direction. And it was a good direction.

“What about your relationship with the Lord? Does that get pushed aside for your work, too?”

“Mother, what I do is all about helping the needy, the helpless. The very things that Jesus wants us to do on this earth.” Rachel knew the right words that would appease her mother and she used them shamelessly.

“Works without faith is dead, dear.”

Check. Her mother may come across as eccentric at times, but when it came to her faith, Beatrice had all the intelligence and knew all the strategies.

“This is what I do, Mother,” Rachel said finally. “I don’t have time for a boyfriend and I don’t have the inclination for one. So please, no more awkward dinners.”

She hoped her mother’s silence meant that she had surrendered.

“I’m happy, Mom.” She pressed on, determined to make her mother see the light. “I live a busy, active life that has purpose and meaning. I have friends and I have a community and a job that is important. And I have you and Dad and Gracie. I don’t need more.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. It’s just that I thought you and Eli would hit it off. He’s a good, kind man.”

Rachel thought of the smirk she’d caught on his face. The appeal of his languid good looks. Good and kind were not words that came to mind in connection with Gracie’s pediatrician.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll make someone a wonderful husband. But not me, Mom.”

Beatrice sighed. “Point taken, my dear. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“You created an awkward situation. But you didn’t offend me.”

“Good. Well, I’d better go. I have an appointment with a physical therapist and after that Dr. Eli. Shall I tell him you said hello?”

Her mother was irrepressible. “Do whatever you want, Mom. Love you.” Though she said the words automatically, she did mean them. Her mother could make her crazy at times, could embarrass her at other times, but Rachel loved her parents dearly.

“Love you, too, dear.”

Rachel couldn’t help but smile when she hung up the phone. Dear Mom. Rachel had thought her mother’s adopting Gracie would satisfy her nesting instinct, but it looked like Rachel was going to have to be on her guard.

“Okay, guys. Final play of the game and we can’t afford to lose.” Alex crouched down, his back to the opposing team, and sketched the play in the grass in front of Eli and the other two teammates. “Eli, Ben is going to be watching you and we want to use that. See if you can fake him out.” When he was done, he held up his fist, his deep brown eyes sparkling with fun. The guys in the circle around him all hit it, called “break” and jogged to where a handkerchief on the grass of the park showed the line of scrimmage.

For the past three years, Sunday mornings would find Eli, his brother Ben, and their friends lining up against one another in Winchester Park for their weekly touch football game. Sometimes the wives and girlfriends came, sometimes they stayed at home. Sometimes Eli’s pager would go off and the game would be called. Sometimes Ben’s daughter Olivia would get tired and want to go home. But mostly they managed to finish their games.

The one constant was that Ben and Eli consistently played on opposing teams. It was a vague throwback to when they were young and constantly in competition with each other. Growing up had eased the competition, but hadn’t erased it.

Eli unbuttoned his shirt and wiped the sweat from his forehead with one end, squinting up at the sky, hazed over with humidity and heat. If he’d known it was going to be this warm, he wouldn’t have worn blue jeans.

“Hey, Doc, I’m watchin’ you.” Ben grinned at Eli and nodded. “I know you have a plan.”

Eli crouched down, resting his hands on his knees. “You do that, Ben. Don’t think we’re not counting on that.”

“You’re workin’ me, Eli. Playin’ me.”

“Now, Ben. Don’t be so mistrustful. Do what you think is right.” He leaned a little closer. “Use the force, Luke.”

Alex called out the play, and Eli could see doubt clouding Ben’s face as Alex glanced down the line away from Eli. As he did, Eli broke away, and Ben took the bait and veered away from him. Eli turned, and Alex spun in a different direction and snapped the ball directly to Eli, who caught it against his chest, cradling it like a child, grinning at Ben’s shout of disappointment.

Eli ran past the stroller that marked off the goal line, and spun around, holding up the ball in a gesture of victory. Ben was coming at him, vengeance in his eyes.

With a laugh, Eli swung left to avoid his brother. He looked up and, too late, saw Rachel Noble coming directly at him. She had veered off the walking path, a soft leather briefcase slung over her shoulder, cell phone clamped to one ear, a sheaf of papers in her free hand.

They would have collided, but at the last possible moment, Eli dropped his football and caught her by the shoulders to steady her and catch his balance. Her papers fell out of her hands and her briefcase slid down her shoulder as she came to an abrupt halt, teetering. She almost dropped her cell phone, as well, but it bobbled in her hands and she managed to hang on.

“What are you—?” She yanked the strap of her briefcase up her shoulder, but it stopped when it hit his hand.

“Are you crazy?” She looked down at her papers. Hitched her strap up again. Hit his hand again.

Then looked up at him.

As her hazel eyes met his, anger snapping in their depths, he felt it again. A light flutter, somewhere in the region of his heart. He had experienced it when he pulled up beside her at the stop sign and she had looked over at him. And felt it again at her parents’ place when he and Charles had come into the kitchen and he realized the beautiful woman he’d been openly flirting with, moments before, was his patient’s sister. Daughter of one of the wealthiest families in Chestnut Grove.

She wore another suit today. This one was olive green with a white shirt. Tidy. Together. With a hint of uptight. He wondered what she would look like in blue jeans, with her hair down.

She blinked once, and to his surprise, the anger seeped out of her eyes. If she hadn’t looked down, he could have seen what replaced it.

“Excuse me, please,” she mumbled, pulling back against his hands.

He had forgotten he was still holding her. He released her, reluctantly.

“Sorry. I didn’t see you.” His apology sounded halfhearted even to him. “I was just trying to avoid Ben here.” He glanced back over his shoulder at his brother, who had kept his distance but was watching the two of them with avid interest.

“That’s okay. I was off the path.” She was about to bend down to pick up her papers.

“Here. I’ll do that.” He gathered them up, but as he handed them to her he belatedly saw the dark smudge marks his fingers had left on the white sheets.

As she tried to brush them off, he realized he had left the same marks on her suit coat. “Sorry about that,” he said, pointing to the faint marks of four fingers on her upper arms. “I’ll pay for the cleaning.”

“Please, don’t worry.” She gave him a quick smile that revived that flutter again. “It was my fault.”

Eli rubbed the back of his neck, aware that his unbuttoned shirt hung open. He lowered his arms, tucking his hands in the front pockets of his blue jeans. He angled his chin toward her papers, feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious. “Do you work every day of the week?”

Rachel frowned up at him. “I do what needs to be done. My work is very important.” Her voice took on a chill that made him take a step away.

“Of course.” Brilliant, Cavanaugh. You won the football game, but here and now you’re officially a loser.

“Well, I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“I guess.” She gave him a polite smile, and with that she became again the aloof woman that had sat across from him at Charles and Beatrice Noble’s table.

“You still there, Rachel?” A man’s tinny voice called out from the cell phone she still held. And without another glance at him, Rachel continued her interrupted phone conversation.

“I was at LaReese’s place and thought I’d slip across the park to Bernie McNamara,” she was saying. She glanced up at Eli, and for a moment he felt it again. A subtle connection.

Then she turned and started walking away, still talking. Still working.

He must have imagined it.

As Eli watched her go, Ben came up beside him. “Very nice, Eli. But I thought your life plan didn’t include women for at least another year.”

“Two years,” Eli corrected, bending over to retrieve the football. “And even then the plan doesn’t include spoiled, haughty women.” Eli grinned at his brother and handed him the ball. “My life plan is firmly intact.”

“Pay down your loan, buy a house, the right car, and then look for someone to share your neat, orderly life.” Ben tapped Eli on the chest with a football, his expression turning serious. “Beware of plans, my brother. They have a way of flipping you midstream.”

Eli didn’t reply to that. He knew his brother was talking about the pain he and his daughter Olivia suffered when Ben lost his wife, Julia, to cancer.

Eli knew from personal experience that life didn’t always cooperate. At one time he had a girlfriend and other plans. But the girlfriend’s parents were leery of the question mark hanging over Eli’s life. Eli had been adopted at age six by the Cavanaughs and the only thing he knew about his natural parents were their names, Darlene and Zeke Fulton. The last memory he had of them was a car spinning out of control, a horrifying crash and then his own life turned topsy-turvy. When the girlfriend’s parents convinced her to break up with Eli, he was determined that the only way he would enter another relationship was if his own life was in order. So he made a plan and stuck to it.

But as he followed his brother back to the game, Eli threw a glance over his shoulder.

Rachel was looking back at him, as well.

Chapter Three

R achel surveyed the homey interior of the Starlight Diner, looking for her friends Pilar Estes, Meg Kierney and Anne Smith.

She had rushed through her interview with Bernie hoping to get here on time. It had been a while since she and her friends had been able to get together for brunch and they had lots of catching up to do.

“You looking for the girls?” Sandra Lange, the owner of the diner, met Rachel at the door, her blond hair worn in its usual teased up-do. She was tying on her apron. “I just got back from church myself, but I believe that Miranda put them in the far corner, by the window.”