Mr. Elliott Finds A Family. Susan Floyd

The wail was heartbreaking, full of genuine emotion and distress. The tears spilled over and Bernie peered at Christian. At that moment she looked so much like Caroline that Christian’s heart stopped. He bent down, staring intently into her eyes, then picked her up to hold her at arm’s length so he could study her features more closely. Bernie was so startled by his movements she stared back at him, almost in awe. It took only a second for her to decide she was having none of this either. She started to thrash, madder now she was off the ground. He studied her face, the resemblance now gone, and wondered if he’d only imagined it.

      “Thank you,” Beth Ann said quickly coming back, hopping over the baby gate, holding her arms out, almost snatching Bernie from him. “I’ll take her now.”

      “Mommy!” Bernie uttered with relief and gave Christian a baleful glance as she clung to Beth Ann’s neck.

      Christian was shaken. Why would he see Caroline in this child? Why?

      CHAPTER TWO

      BETH ANN CLASPED the small body next to hers, trying to calm the beating of her own heart. She knew the panic was caused by the image of Christian holding the squalling Bernie. In two months, Bernie’s adoption would be final, but he didn’t know that and he wasn’t going to know that. She willed her heart to stop pounding. She was getting upset about nothing. There was nothing in his behavior that indicated he even knew Bernie was Caroline’s. Beth Ann hugged Bernie tighter until the toddler protested with a wiggle and another indignant yelp. Beth Ann relaxed her hold and then said in an overly bright tone, “Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

      Christian continued to stare at Bernie. And then he shook his head, “No, no thank you.” After a pause, he asked, “How’s, uh, Iris?”

      “Grans is fine. I’ve given her a sedative, which puts her right to sleep. She’s had a busy day. Been up since four.” Beth Ann glanced at the clock, surprised it was only nine. “This is about the time she takes a nap.”

      “Iris is your, er?”

      “Have a seat,” she offered while Bernie clung to her neck. Beth Ann winced and shifted Bernie’s grip to her shirt. With one hand, she poured herself a cup of coffee, carrying it well away from Bernie.

      She watched as Christian looked around and then sat, but only after meticulously picking an Oatie-O off the seat.

      Beth Ann smiled nervously, putting her hand out to take the piece of cereal from him, and apologized. “Sorry. Professional hazard. They’re probably stuck to the bottom of your shoe as well.”

      To his credit, he didn’t look, but merely grazed the hollow of her palm with his fingertips as he deposited the Oatie-O in her hand, which she tossed away before settling herself across the kitchen table from him. She pushed the coffee out of Bernie’s reach, then leaned over to grab Fluff and put him in her daughter’s hands.

      “You sure I can’t get you any?”

      Christian shook his head.

      Self-consciously, she scooped four heaping teaspoons of sugar into her mug along with a generous splash of milk, left over from Bernie’s cereal. She caught him staring and grimaced. “I use it for the drug it is. I like the smell but hate the taste.” After a minute, she added, “Iris is Carrie’s grandmother.”

      His elegantly arched eyebrow raised. “Caroline’s grandmother? Not yours?”

      Beth Ann shook her head and looked outside with a small laugh. Iris was Carrie’s grandmother, Bernie was Carrie’s daughter and here she was sitting in her kitchen talking to Carrie’s husband, suddenly feeling responsible for all three of them.

      “No, not mine,” she said softly. “We were half sisters. We had the same mother, different fathers. Iris is Carrie’s father’s mother.” Smiling, she asked, “So, what can we do for you?” Beth Ann tried to make her voice neutral, but it came out more chirpy than she intended. “It must be important if you couldn’t talk about it over the phone.” She tightened her hold on Bernie.

      “Do you know what DirectTech is?” he finally asked, his tone slightly patronizing.

      “It’s a software company,” Beth Ann replied. Her head was beginning to pound. She took a sip of coffee, and Bernie wriggled to get down. Beth Ann let her slip to the floor, where she immediately clambered to get up again.

      “A software company we acquired eight years ago—”

      “We?”

      “My family’s business.”

      Beth Ann looked at him warily and asked, “What exactly is your family’s business?”

      “We acquire things.”

      “Venture capitalists?”

      He shrugged. “If you want to call it that. We invest in companies—or buy them—build them up, then sell them when the timing’s right.”

      “Do you keep anything?”

      “Some things. We have a couple of resort hotels that we’ve held for two generations.”

      “Oh.” Beth Ann glanced down, suddenly noticing how grubby and rough her hands looked. Just yesterday she had tried a new painting technique she’d read about in Watercolor magazine and hadn’t been able to get the stains out from under her fingernails. She pushed her hands under the table and surveyed the kitchen, noticing its shabby appearance, and was thankful she had taken yesterday afternoon to clean the house from top to bottom. At least Bernie’s fingerprints weren’t prominently displayed on the door of the faded avocado-green refrigerator. She then looked up at Christian completely at a loss for something else to say.

      The silence stretched between them. Christian stared at the two people across the table from him. Beth Ann stirred her coffee, tasted it and added another two scoops of sugar. She gave him a half smile before her gaze danced away. She kissed the top of Bernie’s unruly curls and then took another sip. He felt slightly uncomfortable, as if he were the cause of her silence. What was he supposed to do but tell her the truth? Why suddenly, sitting in this kitchen, did he feel a deep sense of embarrassment about what his family owned? His eyes followed her gaze, as she now stared at an old china cabinet stuffed full of paper, cards and envelopes. Lots and lots of mail. Much of it unopened, he realized.

      He cleared his throat. “I was asking whether or not you were familiar with DirectTech.”

      “Oh, yes.” She turned attentively toward him.

      “It’s worth quite a bit these days.”

      “And tomorrow it could be worth nothing,” Beth Ann replied.

      Christian smiled and said politely, “That’s possible, but not likely. We don’t generally acquire duds.”

      “So what does this have to do with me?”

      He paused, wondering if she ever read her mail. He glanced back over to the cabinet. Apparently not. Then he said, “I’d like that coffee now.”

      Beth Ann put Bernie down and headed to the coffeepot. Bernie followed, frowning at him as she went. He gave her a tentative smile. She scowled.

      Beth Ann handed him a mug of coffee and then pushed the sugar in his direction. She gestured to the old refrigerator. “There’s milk in the fridge.”

      Christian nodded his thanks and said, “I take it black.”

      “After you drink that, you might want to reconsider,” she advised and sat down. She looked impatiently at the clock.

      “Expecting someone?” he inquired.

      “What?” Beth Ann asked, her cheeks flushing.

      “You keep looking at the clock.”

      Beth Ann turned away guiltily. She was wishing with all the