A Home for Nobody's Princess. Leanne Banks

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      “I heard Emma and she wasn’t stopping,” Benjamin said in a rough voice that made goose bumps rise on her arms.

      Coco took a step back. “Sorry,” she said again. “I was fast asleep.”

      “You need a break,” he said, raking his hand through his hair.

      “We’ll figure it out,” she said and pushed through Emma’s partially opened door. The volume of Emma’s screams increased exponentially without a pause. Coco rushed to the crib and picked up the baby, cooing at her.

      “There you are,” she said. “You’re fine. You’re okay, sweetie. You don’t need to be upset. You’re safe.”

      Emma alternately whined and made hiccupping sounds.

      Coco hated that the baby was so upset. She bobbed up and down. “There you go. See. You’re okay.”

      Emma gave a heavy sigh. Then another. She felt the tot fasten her mouth against her shoulder and make buzzing noises and couldn’t help laughing under her breath.

      “I take it she’s okay,” Benjamin said from a few feet behind her.

      Emma continued her happy buzzing noise and Coco turned around to face Benjamin. He was dressed in a pair of pajama pants and nothing else. “Sure sounds like it to me.”

      Emma paused a half beat then continued.

      “Why does she keep waking up screaming?” he asked, resting his hands on his hips, clearly perplexed.

      Jiggling Emma, she stroked the baby’s back. “It’s not every night. She’s just still adjusting. I think she’ll calm down soon.”

      “She has an appointment with the pediatrician soon. Maybe he can tell us something. I’ll want you to go to that appointment,” he said. “If I take her, she’ll just scream the whole time.”

      “That’s fine. I’d like a few hours off tomorrow or the next day, though. I have some personal business to take care of.”

      “No problem. Sarah will cover for you. I may need to hire someone part-time so you’ll have backup,” he said with a sigh.

      “We can give her a little more time. With little ones, they can turn a corner before you know it.” Coco could feel Emma’s rigid frame start to relax against her. “Maybe she wouldn’t be so afraid of you in the dark. Come closer and see.”

      “I did that earlier,” he said in a dry tone.

      “But this is different. It’s dark and you’re not wearing your hat. Maybe—”

      “Maybe not tonight,” he said firmly. “I don’t want to get her riled up again tonight. See you tomorrow,” he said and left the room.

      Coco slid into the rocking chair with a sigh. She hated that Emma and Benjamin were so tense around each other. When she’d first accepted the position to take care of Emma, she’d thought Emma’s screaming when her daddy came close was just a phase. True, it had only been a few weeks, but it seemed as if the two of them were growing more tense with each other, instead of less. Benjamin wanted to avoid upsetting Emma, which gave them fewer opportunities to interact.

      Coco wondered if she should just set Emma in his arms and leave so the two of them could work it out, but she knew that was probably her lack of sleep talking. She felt Emma’s sweet little body go limp with relaxation. The baby’s trust in her never failed to grab her heart. Rising, she returned Emma to her crib and went back to bed. This time, she fell asleep before her head hit the pillow.

      Late the next morning, after Coco put Emma down for her morning nap, she dressed to go into town. Just as she descended the steps from the front porch, she saw a black Mercedes pulling toward the front of the house. Her stomach dipped. This was the same car that had brought the strange men who’d visited her two days ago.

      Sweating, she glanced over her shoulder, praying that no one would see the visitors. Her heart pounding in her chest, she walked toward the vehicle as it stopped.

      The man in the passenger seat opened the door and rose from the car. He was short with gray hair and squinty eyes. “Miss Jordan, my name is Paul Forno. I represent the House of Devereaux. My associate and I need to discuss an important matter with you.”

      The House of Devereaux? Coco wasn’t sure if it was a fashion label or a collection agency. When the driver opened his car door, panic raced through her. “Listen, this is private property. This is also where I work.”

      “Yes, ma’am. Please accept our apologies, but this is news that must be delivered in person. If you could give us a few moments of your time—”

      “Not right now,” she said. “I’m on my way out.”

      The man sighed. “As you wish, miss, but we don’t have a lot of time. Please accept my business card and call me at your earliest convenience,” he said and offered her the card.

      Confused, but not wanting to show it, she gave a brisk nod, stuffed the card into her small purse and strode to her car. We don’t have a lot of time. What could that possibly mean? And who was we? Her hands shook as she stuck the key into the ignition of her five-year-old economy car. Looking in her rearview mirror, she felt a microbit of relief when she saw the black Mercedes pull away from the ranch.

      Coco opened her car window and took several breaths. The men looked like the same kind who had frequented her mother’s home the last two months before she died. Her mother had fallen deeply in debt, and lenders had become impatient with her inability to pay her bills. Coco had helped as much as she could, but near the end she was only working part-time. Her mother’s care had required the rest of her time and energy.

      She wondered if somehow she was responsible for some of her mother’s bills. She’d never cosigned loans, but she had used a credit card when they’d had an electrical problem and her car had needed an emergency repair. She’d thought she’d paid it off, but now she thought she needed to review her check register.

      Her mind reeling, Coco drove off the property onto the highway into town. All the time, she wondered what she should do. She remembered a friend who had been a legal assistant. Maybe she could call her.

      Reaching the small town of Silver City, she pulled alongside the town diner and got out of her car. She wanted a good cup of coffee or hot chocolate or hot apple cider and maybe a little sympathy from her friend Kim, a waitress at the diner. She’d known Kim back in high school, and Kim had since married and moved to Silver City. Coco and Kim had shared a meal when Coco had first come to town last month. Since then, Coco had dropped into the diner with Emma a couple times.

      Coco walked inside the homey diner and the hostess immediately greeted her. “How are you doing, miss? Can I seat you?”

      “Fine, thank you. Yes,” Coco said. “Please do. Just one.”

      “We’ve got plenty of room. I’ll put you in a booth.”

      As soon as Coco slid into the red booth, Kim Wash-burn winked and waved at her. Coco shot her a weak smile in return.

      A couple moments later, Kim trotted to Coco’s table. “Where’s the little one today?” Kim asked.

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