Brought Together by Baby. Carolyne Aarsen

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      “There’s the annual Noble Foundation picnic coming up soon. You’ll have to make sure to attend,” Beatrice said, carefully lifting Gracie out of her high chair. “Rachel takes care of it and has it here, on the plantation.”

      “You make it sound like I do it single-handedly,” Rachel admonished her mother. “I have a large staff that does a lot of work, as well.”

      “But you don’t delegate enough. I thought hiring those two assistants to replace Anita would ease your workload, but if anything, you are even busier.”

      “They’re still so new, Mom. I can’t just hand them the files and expect them to deal with all of it.”

      “They are well trained.”

      “They need just a bit more experience.” She gave her mother another warning look. They did not need to discuss this in front of a complete stranger.

      “I love you dear, but I also know you,” Beatrice said, as if ignoring Rachel’s warning, “and you have to stop thinking you can control everything. Sometimes you have to let go and let God.”

      “I don’t want to delegate to Him, either,” Rachel muttered. “Can we change the subject?”

      Beatrice only sighed, smoothing Gracie’s hair. “Do you want to hold Gracie?” she asked.

      Rachel glanced at the toddler who lay passive in her mother’s arms. This was not a subject she was comfortable with, either. She knew she should accept, but she was scared she’d do something wrong.

      “She won’t hurt you,” Eli said quietly, as if sensing her apprehension.

      His comment hung between them.

      Then in her peripheral vision she saw Gracie twitch. The child’s arms splayed out, her legs became rigid. She gave a pathetic little wail.

      “Gracie. C’mon, girlie.” Beatrice tried to make her sit, but she wouldn’t. Or couldn’t.

      Rachel’s heart jumped in her chest at the sight of the girl’s head thrown back and her body stiff.

      “Massage her legs. It looks like a muscle spasm,” Eli said, his voice calm, in control. He squatted beside Beatrice, demonstrating.

      Beatrice did what he said, and Rachel breathed a sigh of relief as Gracie’s body slowly relaxed.

      “See? Not that bad.”

      “No. I was a bit frightened, though.” Beatrice glanced at Rachel. “You can hold her now.”

      Rachel’s pager buzzed at her waist and she couldn’t stop the twinge of relief. Reuben to her rescue.

       Chapter Two

       R achel gave her mother an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Mom. I have to take this call. Excuse me, Dad. Eli.” Thankful for the distraction, she strode down the hallway to her father’s den to use the phone there in private.

      “Talk to me,” she said as soon as Reuben picked up.

      “LaReese Binet changed her mind again.”

      Rachel tapped her fingernail against her teeth as her mind scrambled around this new problem.

      “She said she wants to see us tonight,” Reuben continued. “In fact, you should have been there about five minutes ago, but I knew you were at your parents’ place and I held off as long as I dared.”

      “That’s okay, you weren’t interrupting much. Polenta, ume dill dressing, matchmaking and Gracie.” She shuddered slightly as she remembered the sound of her sister’s helpless cry. She admired her parents for taking this child in. She knew she couldn’t have done it.

      “Pardon me?”

      “Never mind. What is the problem now?”

      “Mrs. Binet wants to see the quarterly statements of the Barnabas Society. Wants to make sure they’re on the up-and-up.”

      “They’ll see that as an insult.” The Barnabas Society was a network of older Southern belles who had been around since after Reconstruction. Well established, well endowed, they had set up a camp for inner-city children, but never said no to extra dollars. Though not at any cost. They did have their Southern pride after all.

      “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 СКАЧАТЬ