The Child Comes First (4 page)

Once Marla left, Jayda let her head drop to her folded arms and weariness swept over her. And as she sprawled atop the foster-care documents, she wondered if there could be any truth to Marla's accusation.

No, definitely not, she decided. Simon Montgomery was exactly the sort of man she'd always avoided. Besides which, he scared her half to death.

 

“Y
OU MADE IT
,”
HE SAID AS
she approached his table at Jimmy's the next morning. “I kept the menu for you. Sorry, I already ordered.” He tapped his watch, indicating time was short, then handed the menu to her.

“Thanks,” she said as she slid onto the red vinyl seat. “What's good?”

“Everything.” A waitress rushed by with several heavily laden plates for a table down the aisle. The heady scent of bacon and fresh pancakes seemed to prove Simon's assertion.

Jayda contemplated the choices and also made note of the folder of papers Simon had been reviewing. Tiffany's file, with some unfamiliar documents mixed in. She sighed. “I wasn't able to find a foster home for her.” Confessed like the sin it seemed to be. She'd tried so hard, but had been defeated.

He looked up at her through the steam of his coffee. “You called everyone? You've used up all the favors owed to you?”

“I'm going to make some more calls today. I don't have access to the lists of foster parents from other counties, and none of the other Social Services offices in the area returned my calls before closing time last night. I don't have much hope, though.”

Something shattered in the kitchen, making Jayda jump. But she squared her shoulders and added, “So, I'm going to approve myself as her foster mother. She can stay with me.” Inside, her stomach tightened at the thought of trying to sneak this decision past Marla. The woman would surely find out at some point. And then anything could happen, including Jayda losing her job.

“That's not going to work,” Simon said. “You have rules against that, right? I think you already mentioned that. And I'm not going to jeopardize Tiffany's case because you can't bear to leave her at the juvenile facility. So, forget it.”

Their waitress came and Jayda ordered coffee and an English muffin. Simon scoffed at her choice and informed her that breakfast was the most important meal of the day. She didn't want to tell him she might not be able to eat anything at all if her stomach didn't settle down. She'd spent a sleepless night, tossing and turning and thinking about Tiffany's situation and then mulling over all that Marla had said.

“The good news,” Simon said, “is that we have a new bail hearing set for two days from now.”

“What good will that do us?” she asked. “I seriously doubt I'll find a place for her by then. In fact, we could go weeks without any success.”

He shifted uneasily. “Are you sure Tiffany won't cause any trouble if she's put into someone's home?”

“Define ‘cause trouble,'” she hedged. “She's a kid. Kids don't always behave well.”

“Especially kids who've spent time in detention centers. I know. And I'm not asking for perfection—just reasonably good behavior.”

Jayda looked at him, watched him take a bite of his eggs and wondered what he was getting at. “Yes, I think you can count on her behavior. But no one will take her.” Jayda said the last part with exaggerated enunciation, as if he must not have registered this important fact when she'd said it earlier.

“How can you be so certain she won't be more than an ordinary household could handle?”

She didn't hesitate. “Because I know her. She might occasionally be a brat or throw a pre-teen tantrum, but that's just normal.” He studied her, assessing her, as Jayda added softly, “Because she deserves to have someone believe in her at least once in her life.”

Looking deeply into her eyes, Simon seemed to be searching for something. Jayda feared he would see too much and she dropped her gaze to her coffee cup. Then something compelled her to be completely open with the attorney. “She reminds me of myself at that age,” she explained. “And I know that I can trust her.”

“Sometime soon, you'll have to tell me your story,” he said gently. “But right now, I should tell you a piece of mine.”

That got her attention.

“The quick version. My parents died when I was four, and relatives fought over who should be burdened with me. I alternated between those people and various foster homes. Finally, I found a permanent place for myself with a couple I've thought of as my parents for many years. My dad's dead now and my mom hasn't taken in any more foster kids in years, but I believe she's maintained herself on the list. ‘Just in case,' she always says.”

“If your mother was a suitable foster parent, I would have found her already,” Jayda said.

“She lives in Howard County. Social Services there might have deemed her too old to be a foster parent at seventy, or they may have believed she'd be unwilling to take on a juvie murder suspect with Tiffany's record of acting out. And I certainly won't saddle her with Tiffany if there's any chance that she could be serious trouble.”

Jayda sighed. “She's eleven. There's always a chance she'll be trouble. She's smart and she likes to get her way. But she won't set the house on fire.” Her coffee arrived just as she said that and she offered a polite thank you to the waitress.

Simon's expression went a bit sheepish. “My mother doesn't expect perfection either. If she did, I'd have been booted out of her house more times than I could count. Hold on a minute,” he said, smiling, as he took his cell phone out of his jacket pocket.

He hit one button and put the unit to his ear. Obviously, Mom was on speed dial. But almost as soon as he said, “Hello, Mom, I need to ask you for a favor,” things went downhill and Simon's smile faded to a scowl. Even though she heard only one side of the conversation, Jayda could appreciate the story behind it.

“I do
not
only call you when I want something,” he protested. His eyes had gone wide with indignation, but then something different came into his expression. Jayda knew Simon was feeling guilty.

“Okay, you're right. I've been too busy with work.” He listened for a few seconds and added, “Yes, I know. I need to slow down, remember what's important…find a woman.” At this remark, his gaze lifted to Jayda's and she was startled by the effect this had on her. That strange fluttering renewed and her pulse quickened. Her body understood that the extremely handsome Simon Montgomery was an available male, even if her mind rejected him as a personal prospect.

“Yes, grandchildren. Before you die. I know. It's my duty as your only child.” He winked across the table at Jayda, letting her know he was amused by all this. But in another moment, he dropped his forehead into his palm, elbow propped on the table between them and listened some more.

“Why didn't you tell me the roof was leaking?” he asked. “I could have called someone to come fix it.” He listened and then said, “That's why I work hard. So I can make lots of money and take care of you.” His free hand reached for his coffee cup, but he didn't take a drink. He just turned it around and around as he listened.

As the turning sped up, Jayda worried that Simon was on the verge of doing something stupid—like hanging up on his mother, who was the last hope for Tiffany's freedom. He needed to get a grip. Impulsively, she reached over and placed her fingers on his hand, stopping the cup and—she hoped—easing his tension just as he'd done for her at the detention center. Immediately his hand relaxed, then turned to clasp hers, as if they'd comforted each other this way many times before. When Jayda glanced at his face, she saw the strain was gone. A grateful smile replaced the tight line his mouth had been.

The instant she realized what she'd done, initiating such an intimacy, she wanted to slip her hand away. But he held on—gently, but firmly. She tried to relax into the warmth and strength she felt from his fingers holding hers, easing back against her seat as his tone with his mother lightened.

“Mom, I admit I've been completely self-indulgent and I promise I'll do better. But right now, there's a little girl in deep trouble. She needs your help.” His features softened and the light came back into his eyes as he listened to his mother's response. He'd managed to say the right words.

As he explained the situation to the woman who'd raised him, Jayda watched Simon's mouth and found herself wondering what it would be like to kiss him. She tipped her head slightly to the right and imagined leaning in and touching her lips to his. He had beautifully chiseled lips—mobile, expressive. He'd be a wonderful kisser, she decided, and her skin tightened in response to the thought. Would she ever have the chance to find out for sure? Did she want to?

No. She withdrew her hand from his abruptly, which turned out to be less awkward than it might have been, because at the exact same moment he closed his phone and had to use both hands—one to open his jacket and the other to slide the cell back into its pocket. Still, Jayda couldn't help feeling shaken by the notions that had been drifting through her mind. What had she been thinking? Simon Montgomery was way out of her league. And her boss had just about ordered her to keep things professional.

“She said she'll do it,” Simon announced. “But as is her nature, she exacted some promises. Mainly, I have to drive the two of them to court and to meetings or wherever they need to be. And I'll have to show up in the evenings to take care of Tiffany myself.” He held Jayda's gaze as he added, “But I'm not going it alone with this kid. I'll expect help.”

“You can get someone to…”

“Not ‘someone,' Jayda.
You.
”

“Me?” Reluctantly, she nodded. Thoughts of Marla's warnings danced through her head, but at least this would be a better, wiser arrangement than having Tiffany live with her in her apartment.

Simon's grin made her wonder what she was being dragged into. Her foreboding doubled when he said, almost teasingly, “We'll be spending a great deal of time together, you and I. I'm looking forward to that.”

“I'
LL NEED TO MEET YOUR
mother and do a home survey, then fill out some paperwork with her,” Jayda said, but her eyes were already full of optimism. Simon couldn't help feeling good about putting that glow into her expression. He also couldn't keep from noticing how the morning light streaming through the window of the diner turned her hair to gold.

“I'll take you out there this afternoon,” he said, wondering even as he spoke the words if Denise would think he'd lost his mind, given the disaster this would make of his already overloaded schedule. She might even threaten to quit, and Simon
needed
his secretary. Her organizational skills, her connections, her research capabilities enabled him to win his cases. He'd be lost without her. “I have to appear in court this morning, then file some motions. I should be able to free up some time around three-thirty.”

She sipped her coffee. “Thanks, but that's not necessary. I can go there by myself. I've been doing home surveys for years without any help.”

“But not at my mother's home. I'll come. There'd be hell to pay if I didn't go with you.” Anyway, it would be a nice drive out to Ellicott City on this unseasonably cool June day. He'd look at his mom's leaking roof, check the place to see what else needed doing, spend a few hours making his mother happy. When was the last time he'd done that? When was the last time he'd done anything that didn't advance his career as a lawyer?

In the past twelve hours, he'd done a number of selfless things that the partners would not consider career-enhancing. He'd worked the phones and called in some favors to get Tiffany another bail hearing, praying all the while that Jayda would be able to find someone to foster the girl. Briefly, Simon had considered becoming Tiffany's guardian himself, but even if he could get himself into the foster parent registry, such closeness with his client could have a negative effect on the case. His objectivity as her attorney could be questioned. Worse than that, his apartment hadn't been designed with a child in mind. Neither had his lifestyle. So he'd decided he'd ask his mother to take Tiffany in, if Jayda found no one else.

There would be a price to pay for asking this favor of his mom. She'd hold him to his promises regarding Tiffany with the strength of titanium. He had no idea how he'd keep up his end of the bargain and still stay abreast of all his cases. The lifestyle he'd worked so hard to create would undoubtedly have to be rethought. The only benefit he could see in all this was that he'd get to spend some time with Jayda. It was a thought that confused the hell out of him. Jayda didn't strike him as a woman with whom he could have a casual fling, and she couldn't become a lasting part of his life. He needed to get things back on a strictly professional footing with her, despite their earlier flirting.

“Besides,” he said to her, “I'm not about to give my mother the opportunity to tell you all her stories about my youthful indiscretions. At least not unless I'm there to defend myself.” He smiled as he said this, but mentally he berated himself. Why did he care what stories Jayda heard? What did it matter? How could her opinion of him make any difference in the long run?

“I look forward to the stories and to hearing you defend yourself. Should I meet you at your office?” She took out her wallet.

“I'll get the bill. You're a client, after all, and I have an expense account.” He winked at her and she chuckled. “Meeting at my office would be perfect.”

She slid out of the booth and stood. Average height, slim figure, brown hair and eyes, functional clothing. Nothing special. And yet…

“I'll be there,” she said.

 

“N
ICE AFTERNOON FOR A DRIVE
,” Jayda said when they were once again side by side in his Mustang. The seats were just as close together as they had seemed the first time, but she found herself a little more relaxed today. Progress.

She watched Simon put his key into the ignition, but then he hesitated a moment before turning it. “I haven't gone out to Ellicott City in months.” He sounded almost wistful. “It's pretty out there, and I should go more often. For my mom. And for me.” The engine roared to life. “You know how, when you go back to where you grew up, you can regroup, recharge…Restore?”

Jayda nodded, telling herself that most people would understand the sentiments he expressed. But she didn't feel anything positive about the house in which she'd grown up. In fact, she'd vowed never to go back, and she'd kept that promise to herself. Some time ago, her mother had sold it and moved into an apartment. Jayda wondered if she could ever make herself visit her only living parent again. Doing so would likely help her to put the past into perspective and ease her toward forgiveness.

“Where did you grow up?” Simon asked, driving a little too fast out of the parking garage. But he was a good driver, completely in control of the vehicle.

“Arbutus,” she said, wondering how she could turn the conversation. She didn't really want to think about Arbutus—or her uncle—at this particular moment. Not that there was
ever
a good moment.

“We're practically neighbors, then. We could have been to the same football games in high school.”

“Uh-huh,” she murmured. She'd never been to a high school football game. “So, I brought along the paperwork your mother needs to fill out to apply to foster Tiffany. I had to persuade Howard County Social Services to agree to the plan. They gave in eventually, but they were too busy to help much. Maybe you could give me information while we drive and I can fill in some of the sections before we arrive.”

“Sure,” he said, and for a while they focused on mundane information regarding the house and neighborhood, his mom's age and health, references and criminal history—or lack thereof, in the case of Barbara Johanson, who'd raised Simon since he was six.

“There's something I should probably warn you about before we arrive,” he said as he made the turn off Route 40 onto 29.

Jayda waited, hoping he wasn't about to share anything that might compromise Mrs. Johanson's ability to take Tiffany into her home.

“She's a bit of a matchmaker. At least where I'm concerned.”

Jayda let out her breath surreptitiously. “And?”

“Well.” He paused and appeared uncomfortable. “You're an attractive unmarried woman about my age and…”

A thrill ran through her, because he'd said she was attractive. When had anyone ever said that about her before? Previous boyfriends told her she was pretty, but hearing it from this dynamic man was different, somehow. “And…?” she prodded again, finding the exchange, and Simon's discomfort, entertaining.

“And she doesn't much like the women I date—ambitious, professional career women.” His phone rang. He pulled it from his jacket pocket and glanced at the caller ID. “Speaking of which,” he said under his breath as he answered the call.

Jayda's fun hissed away like air from a balloon. Simon apparently didn't put her in the same category with professional career women, and that stung. It wasn't very entertaining listening to him talk to one of his professional career women on the phone, either, even though he didn't say much.

“I have to go, Megan,” he said after listening for a moment. “I'll call you.”

Jayda watched him hang up and then thumb the cell off. No more calls from Megan for a while, at least.

“Anyway,” Simon continued, as if his love life had not just intruded on the conversation, “Mom will see you're down-to-earth, sweet, nurturing. Normal. She might encourage us to get together socially.”

Okay, those were all nice things. Jayda felt particularly pleased at being deemed “normal”—if he only knew. She was glad she could fake it so well.

“We just have to make it clear to her that things must remain professional between us. I'm sure we can manage that,” she said as Simon pulled to a stop along the curb of a lovely suburban street dotted with well-tended, middle-class homes.

“You don't know my mother,” he commented grimly as he got out.

Jayda followed him to the two-story house. They went around to the side door instead of the front one and Simon let them in without knocking. Even so, they were greeted by a blinding flash of light.

“There we go!” said a woman whom Jayda could just barely make out through her temporary state of light blindness. “Your first picture together. It can also go into Tiffany's memory book—the beginning of her new life with us.”

“Oh, yeah, and she's an amateur photographer, too,” Simon muttered.

“Who's an amateur? I'm preprofessional. Come in, come in. Don't stand by the door.”

Jayda went forward despite the lingering spots caused by the flash, once again following the broad expanse of Simon's back. He introduced the two women as they headed into the house. Not once in all of her years as a social worker had she experienced such an exuberant first meeting with a potential foster parent. Under other circumstances Juvenile Services might have made a snap judgment that this woman was a little too eccentric for the foster program, but she was Tiffany's only hope. And if Simon was any indication, Mrs. Johanson must be a wonderful parent.

They went through a modest, sparkling clean kitchen into a family room. “I know you need to see the whole house and yard,” said Mrs. Johanson. “Would you like the tour right away?”

“Yes, that would be fine.” This woman knew the drill and she showed Jayda each room, focusing on the one that would belong to Tiffany—a nicely appointed bedroom ready for a girl to make her own. As they moved from room to room, Jayda noted that Simon's mom, though already seventy, still got around easily and was full of life.

“This is Simon's room,” said Mrs. Johanson, and she opened another door on the second floor with a flourish. “I've kept all his things here.”

Sure enough, the room was decorated for a boy in blue-and-red plaid, with blue and red trucks on the wall border near the ceiling. Jayda thought she heard a sigh from the man who had once called this room his own, and it was all she could do not to smile. Undoubtedly, viewing his childhood bedroom gave her a lot more information than most people would ever have regarding the mighty Simon Montgomery.

“What are the trophies for?” she asked, seeing them along a shelf above the desk.

“Oh, our Simon was very into karate and jujitsu. He got all the way to his black belt,” his mom volunteered.

“I was a kid. It was a child's black belt. Nothing special,” he said from behind the two of them.

“Oh, but we were so proud,” declared Mrs. Johanson. “Carl and I went to all his matches, right up until Carl's heart attack.”

Jayda looked at Simon to see his expression. When she saw the pain barely hidden in the depths of his eyes, she understood he wouldn't like talking about the loss of his adoptive father. A hint of vulnerability might peek out, and a man in Simon's tough profession couldn't allow that.

He looked directly at Jayda and said, “I was thirteen. It was hard on both of us.” And he slung an arm across his mother's shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. “But we got through it. I got that black belt for him, more than anything. He loved the idea of me earning it. So I did, even though he had died.”

“Carl knew. He watched from beyond and he knew,” said Mrs. Johanson.

Jayda felt a bit like an intruder as the moment of remembering stretched on. But she stayed where she was, waiting for mother and son to collect themselves. They did so, and led the way back out into the hallway.

“You can see the whole backyard from here,” said the older woman, pointing to a window at the end of the hall. “It's a good place for kids to play. It'd be a good place for grandchildren, someday.”

Jayda peered out, noticing the fenced area, and nodded. “Perfect,” she agreed. But when she looked back at Simon, he was scowling. “You're still on the list for foster care, so there's just a bit of paperwork to do. Let's get that over with, okay?”

“Yes, why don't you do that,” said Simon. “I'll check out the damage from the leaking roof and be back down in a minute.”

Jayda went downstairs with Mrs. Johanson and they got the documents out of the way. She assured the older woman there was little chance of a problem and advised her that Tiffany would be placed with her if the judge would set bail at her hearing.

When Simon reappeared, he had taken off his suit jacket and loosened his tie over the undone top button on his crisp white shirt. Jayda had never seen him in anything other than his expensive suits to match his perfectly groomed nails and hair. But now, a few locks had fallen onto his brow and his fingertips were smudged.

“I had to go up into the attic,” he said as he brushed his hair back with his fingers. He looked boyish, yet so damn sexy that Jayda could hardly breathe. Fortunately, he and his mother began to chat for a while, giving Jayda a chance to renew her vow that she would think of Simon Montgomery only as Tiffany's lawyer.

Simon agreed to pick up his mother before the hearing, so she could be there for support. She'd meet Tiffany for the first time at the courthouse prior to the proceedings.