The Baby Bargain. Wendy Warren

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СКАЧАТЬ when he held out a chair. He waited until she was comfortably seated before assuming the seat next to her.

      He smelled good. Cleaner and subtler than cologne, more delicious than plain soap. Seemed as though she rarely had an occasion to smell anything more interesting than baby powder lately, so his scent hit her twice as hard.

      Buck up, Eden, she told herself. You probably smell like baby spit up, which is why you have a point to make.

      With a big smile, she plopped her plate of cookies atop the cleaned-for-company conference table and whipped off the crinkled foil cover.

      “Chocolate chocolate chip and oatmeal butterscotch,” she announced. “Help yourselves. Three points each if you’re doing Weight Watchers.”

      Her coworkers gazed hungrily at her homemade treats. She saw Jillian Logan glance at Dianna March, who was on the board of directors. Ordinarily the board and the staff rarely attended the same meetings. When the staff alone gathered in the afternoon, juice and coffee flowed and there was no shortage of snacks, making the furniture before them look like a picnic table.

      Formality and professionalism seemed to be the order of this afternoon, however.

      The meeting room appeared more official, less warm and friendly. A carafe of water and a coffee urn sat atop a sideboard, with a small container of sugar and packets of artificial sweetener as the only nod to the afternoon energy slump. Her cookies, which normally would have been half-gone in the time it took for her to notice the difference in the room, sat untouched as everyone waited to see what the board members were going to do.

      That’s the problem, she thought. We can’t stop being ourselves just because we’re in trouble. That’s what this place was about: family first. Real life first. That was one reason she loved it so: you didn’t have to fake it to make it at the Children’s Connection.

      Contrarily, the commercial she’d just watched looked like a trailer for The Sound of Music.

      “Afternoon, everyone.” She raised a hand companionably. “I apologize for walking in late. I hope the cookies’ll make up for it. I stopped by the baby center to check on Liam. He’s been teething, and you know how that goes. Sleepless nights, cranky days and a nose like a lazy river—nothing ever comes of it, but it doesn’t stop running. You just can’t pay a child-care provider enough to deal with that, can you?”

      Understanding smiles popped up around the room as heads bobbed. There, that was better. Dianna and fellow board member Wayne Thorpe looked almost human again. No matter what trouble they’d suffered recently, the Children’s Connection wasn’t all about business. That was one reason she’d moved clear from Kentucky to Oregon to take this job. She hoped to heaven this place would hang on to its unique character in the face of its struggles. It was so easy to forget who you were when you were scared.

      Eden turned toward the man beside her. “Do you have children, Mr….”

      She cocked a brow even though she knew his last name was Logan. Same as the uncle and cousins who’d hired him. Still, it never hurt to let one’s adversary believe he hadn’t been worthy of much interest up to now.

      To his credit, his surprise showed only in his eyes.

      “Logan,” he supplied. “And, no, I do not have children.”

      Eden nodded and made a mental note. A very crisp “No, I do not” rather than “Not yet” or “I haven’t been so fortunate.” She colored her responding “Ahh” with gentle implication.

      “Your commercial was lovely to look at,” she said sincerely. “Almost made me want to get pregnant again. If someone could guarantee I’d be like the woman in your ad. Now, there’s a gal who looks as if she could have triplets and not lose any beauty sleep. Most of us moms with little ones are lucky if we brush our teeth before noon.”

      From her peripheral vision, Eden saw the women in the room nod and smile.

      “I hope I’m not being too personal, Ms. Carter,” LJ said, obviously realizing he could lose the ground he’d already gained if he wasn’t careful, “but you’re far more attractive than the actress who was hired for the commercial. If you have a child young enough to be teething, I think we put the wrong woman on TV.”

      Garnet Kearn beamed at him. Wayne Thorpe and Miles Remington raised their brows as if it was an option worth considering.

      Score: Logan, 1. Carter, 0.

      Eden couldn’t ignore the fact that he’d just made her look like Gladys Kravitz, butting in where she didn’t belong. When she’d first received the memo regarding the meeting, she’d considered the invitation to be little more than a courtesy. Who needed a layperson’s input with an advertising pro onboard? Now that she’d met the whiz kid, she revised her opinion.

      You need me, buddy boy. And I need you to protect my place of employment. She was determined to speak up whether he liked it or not.

      Smiling as if she thought he’d paid her a compliment, Eden cracked her knuckles under the table. He might know advertising, but Mr. New York was about to discover that mommies and babies were her areas of expertise.

      LJ relished the victory he’d just won. Before Ms. Carter had tossed in her two cents, he’d been about to tie this job into a bow pretty enough to impress his uncle. No way would he allow someone to undermine a victory that was only moments away.

      Her gripe could waste a lot of time if the board wasn’t savvy about marketing. No one on any sofa in any home in America had ever bought a product or service because it promised to make him look and feel exactly the way he looked and felt sitting in front of his TV.

      Advertising, even for services like those provided by the Children’s Connection, appealed to people’s fantasies, to their idealized versions of themselves and the lives they would like to lead. Who fantasized about being overworked, sleep deprived and covered in baby puke?

      He decided to use her objection to hammer his point home. My apologies, beauty, but this is a business meeting, not Mommy and Me.

      “I’m glad you found the commercial aesthetically pleasing.” He spoke directly to her. “We want to plant a strong, positive image in the mind of anyone looking into an adoption or fertility clinic.”

      When her pale brows gathered and it appeared she was going to rebut, he held the floor tenaciously, shifting his attention to the others.

      “It goes without saying that the Children’s Connection has suffered a number of blows to its image and that the result has been public questioning of the organization’s agenda. More crucially, this board’s basic values have come under attack. I intend to plant an image firmly in the minds of every viewer that leaves no doubt about the Children’s Connection’s first love—the creation of families. I want hopeful parents to know we are unabashedly romantic about helping to build those families and watching them grow. That we will be part of their lives far past inception or birth or an adoptive placement. The world may be cynical…the Portland Children’s Connection is not.”

      LJ always knew when he’d hooked his audience. The energy in a conference room began to hum. If he felt it, he was making his point.

      Around the table members of the board sat taller in their faux-leather chairs. LJ’s uncle Terrence and aunt Leslie linked hands atop the table. The unconsciousness of the gesture СКАЧАТЬ