for the first time, she cursed all her relatives for failing to pass on a direction gene, and after all that fiddle-faddling around, it was fifteen minutes to five before she managed to park and chase up the stairs to Lee Oxford’s office.
The receptionist took one look at her and sniffed, the little snot. Maybe receptionists on this side of the Mississippi could afford Ellen Tracy suits, but at least where Merry came from, people were familiar with some friendly manners. “It’s late, but I’ll see if he can fit you in,” was all the receptionist offered.
“I left a message on his cell that I was coming in early, but I don’t know if he got it. Please tell him it’s about Charlene Ross. I know we didn’t plan a meeting until tomorrow, I’m hoping he can still see me today.”
“Have a seat.”
Yeah, right, like she could relax at this point. She slugged her hands in her pockets and paced from window to window. She’d had mental images in her mind for days of the little girl, so young, alone, no mom, and then losing her daddy right before Christmas. It was easy to picture her. Granted, it had been years since she’d seen Charlie, but his daughter was undoubtedly built short and scrappy, because he’d been. Likely she’d be blond. Hopefully she wouldn’t have her daddy’s hook nose, but with any luck at all she’d have those wonderfully warm crinkle-in-the-corner blue eyes.
Naturally, without knowing her, Merry had had a hard time picking out Christmas presents—but not totally. Eleven was eleven. Whether Merry wanted to or not, she recalled every detail about that age. It was that era when you had to have a best friend. When you first started to notice boys, even if you were still a little worried they had cooties. It was that age when you first got hard-core interested in makeup and fashion styles, started hearing the appeal of the “in” music, talked on the phone nonstop.
And, yeah, it was an age when losing a parent was the worst thing in the universe—especially if the other parent had already deserted the ship.
Merry’s heart had been ripped up since she first heard the story. Still was. Still would be, she suspected, until she’d gotten her arms around the little girl. Whatever happened was going to be challenging, she knew. How could anything about this be easy, for her or for Charlene? But Merry didn’t really doubt that she’d get along with the child. Wherever this all ended up, love and caring and attention had to help the little sweetheart, and Merry was more than willing to open her heart to the child.
Finally the receptionist gave her the high sign, and Merry sailed into Oxford’s office with an eager smile and her hand outstretched. The terrier-sized, darkhaired man on the other side of the polished onyx desk stood up to return her handshake, but abruptly her optimistic spirits suffered a teensy drop.
Unlike everybody else, she usually liked lawyers. Some of her closest friends were lawyers. But most of them were of that earnest, honest breed fresh from law school, hot to make the world a better place, flagwaving hopeless liberals like…well, like herself. Lee Oxford looked about fifty, had a mega-watt diamond in his tie, elegantly styled brown hair—even for a city guy—and wore alligator shoes. He took one look at her and brightened as if she were the freshest meat on the hoof he’d seen in a long, long time.
It’s not as if she’d never had that response from a man before, but she’d really wanted to like this guy. Mentally she reminded herself that Charlie Ross would never have picked a jerk for a lawyer, so to just chill on that first reaction and give him a longer chance.
Still, Oxford held her hand more like a caress instead of a handshake, before slowly sinking back in his chair. He started out with, “I wondered what you’d look like. This is a highly unusual situation.”
“Believe me, it is for me, too.” She sank into the barrel chair across from his sleek black desk. “This is the fastest I could get here. I didn’t expect to be able to connect with Charlene still tonight, but I was hoping to get the key to the house. I’d like to open it up, make sure everything’s turned on, get some food in, just get to know the place a little. Try and make some things ready for her.”
“A good idea. But there’s a lot we have to go over first.”
Merry leaned forward. There was a ton she wanted to go over, too. And just because little guys tended to worry her—they always seemed to have a mean streak, need to prove their power and all that—she tried to quit pegging him in the negative. So the guy had looked her over a little close. What man didn’t?
“As I hope I explained on the phone…if the child’s mother happened to show up, or another blood relative who is capable of taking Charlene, they could make a legal claim. But right now, to the best of our knowledge, there’s no one.”
Merry nodded. “For her sake, I wish she had some family, too.”
“Regardless, you need to fully understand that you have no legal obligation to take her.”
“I do understand that. You explained on the phone.”
“The document you signed years ago isn’t binding.”
Again she nodded. She’d gone over that night numerous times in her mind. It was hard to explain to an outsider what a rare and special friendship she’d formed with Charlie. It just wasn’t like any other friend relationship.
He’d been newly divorced when she met him, living in Minnesota, not Virginia. There’d never been anything romantic between them. They’d met at some ghastly party that they’d both been conned into attending by friends, started talking and never stopped. He was just a totally great guy who’d needed a friend, and she’d valued being one for him. Over days and weeks of talking together, she shared more about her childhood than she’d ever told anyone. Likewise, he’d revealed his circumstances. The court had given him full custody of his baby daughter, but he’d been frantic about what would happen to Charlene if he died or was hurt. Even before his ex-wife had disappeared from the picture, she’d been attracted to anything she could smoke or sniff.
The two of them had written up an agreement on a legal pad in a restaurant. It wasn’t fancy, just said that Merry would take care of his daughter, as he’d take care of hers if she ever had kids who needed help. Even if it was just a pact between friends, she’d meant the words. He had, too. And yeah, unfortunately they’d lost track when he took the job in Virginia. He also must have wildly changed if he’d turned into Mr. Suburbia. But she’d never forgotten him. When the lawyer first called, she’d let out a helpless, keening cry on hearing Charlie was gone.
And that fast, Oxford told her that she was the only one listed as a potential guardian for Charlene. He’d also quickly informed her there was nothing legally binding about such a document, nothing to stop her from backing out.
He repeated the same thing now.
She answered him the same way she had then. “Maybe there’s nothing in this situation that’s legally binding. But morally and ethically is a whole different ball of wax. I have no idea if I can be a good guardian for Charlene. But she can’t possibly be better off in foster care, and for sure she needs out of the situation she’s stuck in right now. And I’m free. I can at least make sure she’s back in her own home, her own school, around her own friends again, before anybody has to make any decisions set in granite.”
“It’s a monumental thing you’re taking on.” Oxford picked up a pen, and terrier-fashion, started worrying it, poking it end to end. “If you don’t mind my saying, I find it odd if not a little suspicious that you’d be willing to take on a kid out of the blue.”
Merry tried not to take offense. He didn’t know her from Adam. She tried to answer with the same careful honesty she’d expressed to everyone else. “If you’re thinking that I easily said yes, I promise you I didn’t. But when you described the situation she was in…I couldn’t get it out of my mind. A little girl, right at Christmas, who had everything she knew and loved ripped away from her—”
He cut her short, as if he needed to hear an emotional argument like he needed another head. “Somehow I suspect you know there’s a sizable trust.”