What she wanted desperately was to argue her case and to point out how badly the younger children in the district needed her. The other counselor, an older man, had an intimidating manner that seemed to scare them.
“I’m so glad you understand,” Sandra said, her smile giving Emma a boost of reassurance. “Your evaluations have been excellent, so I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding something else.”
For a moment Emma was stunned. “What are you telling me?” she asked through lips that suddenly felt like rubber. A rush of noise, like the sound of a jet engine, filled her head.
“Klaus has been here longer, so the district really has no choice.” Sandra spread her hands wide. “I know you’ve experienced some personal trouble, but perhaps this will give you a chance to start fresh. I’m so sorry, but we won’t be renewing your contract for the new school year.”
Emma slumped back in her chair, feeling as though she’d been shot. “I see,” she croaked.
Since her divorce, work had been her lifeline. She loved this job. Worse yet, with all the bills she’d been stuck with, her paycheck was a necessity.
Sandra slid back her chair, a signal that the interview was over. Her husband was an attorney in nearby Portland, so she probably didn’t even need to work. “Be sure to let me know if there is anything I can do.”
“Thank you.” Emma’s reply was automatic as she got to her feet on legs that trembled.
Sandra’s bright smile was firmly in place when she circled the desk and opened the door. “Good luck.”
Emma didn’t have another “thank you” left in her, so she merely nodded before she walked back through the outer office. At least it was empty, so she didn’t have to put on a happy face for the next clueless employee.
How much bad news was one person expected to handle without screaming, she wondered silently as she walked through the summer sunshine to her car? Two miscarriages, a divorce and now this.
When Don walked out, leaving her with a broken heart and a stack of bills, she’d been grateful for supportive parents and a job she enjoyed. In less than a week, she had lost both.
One
“M r. Davis asked me to convey his apologies for running late. He’ll see you just as soon as he finishes his call.” The assistant adjusted her headset and smiled at Emma Wright, who was seated in the small waiting area.
The brass nameplate resting on the corner of the desk next to a potted plant with purple leaves read Cora Hanson. Behind her blond head, the tall windows framed a summer sky that was the same intense blue as the most precious turquoise jewelry.
“Is there anything I could get you?” Cora asked. “Coffee? Some water?”
Emma shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”
Actually she had been anything but fine since first learning about Children’s Connection, an adoption agency associated with Portland General Hospital. Coffee would only make her more jittery. As for water, well, she didn’t want any interruptions once she got in to see Morgan Davis, the agency director.
Scarcely able to contain her impatience after waiting a week for her appointment, Emma had arrived early at the sprawling medical complex. She was meeting a friend for lunch afterward and hoped to have some startling news to share.
After parking her car in the garage, she’d followed the signs directing her past lawns that were still green despite the dry July weather and well-tended flower beds exploding with color.
Now she flipped through the pages of a travel magazine without the slightest idea of what she saw there. Her hands shook with a combination of nerves and anticipation, her palms damp and her heart thudding.
She hadn’t seen it coming, the bomb her parents dropped that shattered Emma’s life as she’d known it. She hadn’t suspected a thing, not until she looked into her mother’s eyes and saw the lie. In just a few minutes, though, she would finally have what she needed to begin piecing the scattered bits of her life back together.
“Ms. Wright?” The assistant had sneaked up without Emma’s notice to hover expectantly. “If you’d come with me, Mr. Davis will see you now.”
Emma shot to her feet so fast that she actually felt dizzy. Refusing to give in to the momentary weakness, she clutched her purse tightly as she followed the other woman down a short hallway. Ahead of her was an imposing set of double doors. One of them stood open.
Cora stepped aside and motioned for Emma to go on in.
A handsome black-haired man in a gray suit stood in front of a massive, heavily carved desk. The formality of his appearance made Emma feel slightly self-conscious about her own casual summer top and tan skirt.
“Ms. Wright? I’m Morgan Davis.” He extended his hand, his grip warm and firm. “Won’t you come in and have a seat?”
He nodded to his assistant, who shut the door quietly behind her. Emma took one of the purple tub chairs in front of the desk and the tall windows. Willing herself to be calm, she drew in a deep, slow breath.
Instead of returning to his black leather throne, the director surprised her by sitting in the chair next to hers. He was startlingly attractive, with deep blue eyes and cheekbones that would make a photographer weep. His dark tan was emphasized by his white shirt and maroon tie.
Ignoring the awareness dancing across her nerves, Emma stayed focused on her mission. She glanced over at the folder lying open on the desktop behind him. Did it contain the information she had come here to find?
He turned his head for a moment. His profile should have been on a stamp. His jaw was strong, his nose straight and his black eyelashes were as thick as the bristles of a paintbrush. Before she reeled herself back in, Emma wondered if the honey-gold tan of his face and hands extended to the rest of him.
“How can I help you?” he asked, lifting his brows. As he rested his hands on his thighs, a gold ring glinted on one finger.
Thank God he couldn’t read her mind.
Emma crossed her legs, trying not to fidget, and moistened her suddenly dry lips. She’d planned so carefully what she wanted to say, but now her mind threatened to go blank.
“I just found out that your agency handled my adoption,” she finally blurted out, lacing her fingers together tightly. “Is that my file on your desk?”
“That’s right,” he replied without turning his head. “As you can imagine, our records go back many years.” He folded his arms loosely across his chest. His smile flashed even white teeth. “I hope there isn’t a problem.”
Sitting rigidly, she lifted her chin. The sense of injustice and pain still raged inside her. “The problem is that I wasn’t told about it until a very short time ago.”
He frowned, clearly puzzled. “About this agency?”
“About being adopted,” she clarified. “I had no idea until now.”
His expression softened as he leaned forward. “I’m so sorry.” His voice was husky. “After all this time, the news must have come as quite a shock. I expect it’s been difficult for you.”
“Yes, very.” She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. Her voice wobbled. “That’s why I’m here, to find out what I can.”
His frown returned. “I’ll help in any way that I can, of course,” he replied, “but I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“I need the names of my biological parents,” she said firmly. The Wrights had claimed not to have that information, but her faith in their honesty had taken a major hit and she wasn’t sure that she believed them.
“If you don’t mind my asking, how did this all