33. Sterling
A week later…
“Fuck!” I threw my phone across the room. I ran my hand through my hair and squeezed my temples together. This past week had not been going well. I was arguing with the agency that was supposed to be helping me figure out how to care for a child. Their case manager had crossed a line, and now they were threatening to take Georgie from me.
And the one person I had thought was on my side from the very beginning, at least she had acted like she was, well, she wasn’t returning my calls. I was pretty sure I”d fucked things up with her. So, not a good week, and not a good time to hear possibly the worst news of my life delivered in a snooty, self-righteous voice.
Wayne crossed the far side of the living room and picked up my phone. He held it out to me as he crossed in my direction.
“Bad news?”
I growled. “Very. That was the director of the agency. They are waiting on confirmation, but it appears that Georgie’s father may have been found.”
“I thought that was always the goal?” he asked.
I barked out a sardonic laugh. “That hasn’t been the goal for a while. I don’t want her father to be found. I want to keep her.”
“She is not some puppy who followed you home, and now the rightful owner has shown up?—”
“No, she’s not. She is Argene’s daughter.” I clenched my teeth and felt the muscle in my jaw tense and pulse. I wasn’t going to explain it to him. I tried to explain it to the next case worker who was sent my way after I refused to let Peggy Stanholt into my home—she had violated a trust. She wasn’t welcome. I told them to send someone else. They did. I had almost hoped they sent Cecelia back.
Fuck!
The only person who seemed to understand my need to protect Georgie when I failed her mother was Cecelia. She hadn’t returned a single call all week. I knew she had relocated to Amarillo for a short-term transfer. But hadn’t she taken the phone I bought with her?
I took the phone from Wayne. I stared at it. What should I do next? Who should I call first? I wasn’t used to being in a position of uncertainty. I made executive decisions that made people, especially myself, lots of money. Georgie wasn’t a fluctuating market or an old tech process that needed to be disrupted.
I hit the number for the guy I had looking for Georgie’s father.
He answered on the first ring.
“That’s bullshit,” he said when I reported that the other group claimed to have located him. “If this guy exists, I would have found him by now. I’ve combed through your sister’s contacts. I”ve chased down everyone in every picture she posted to her social media in a four-month window around what would have been time of conception. Half of those people she called friends don’t even remember her. And the ones who did had no idea she had gotten pregnant. I can tell you she was bouncing between Miami and the islands. Your sister partied. I’m good, but not even I can track down every single person who was at the same parties she went to during that time.”
Why the hell had Argene made that request? Why not just grant me custody? Why play this game that there was a father out there who might want his child?
“Tell you what I’m gonna do. I’ll put a trace request on the kid’s genetic records. That way, I’ll get a ping if anyone with any kind of close match comes up.”
“What if they aren’t using the same database?” I grumbled.
The PI barked out a laugh. “It’s all the same database. If they get a match, I’ll know about it. In the meantime, make sure they aren’t trying to play you somehow.”
“Play me?”
“Yeah, you know, like tell you they got the dad and have you sign over custody papers. The kid then gets adopted out for big bucks. Especially one as cute as what you got.”
A chill like ice cubes ran down my spine. “Keep me posted.”
I ended the call and immediately called my lawyer. It took several minutes of being put on hold and being transferred, and on hold again, before I got to my lawyer, Paul Chavez.
“Can you get a subpoena or a warrant or whatever so that the agency has to disclose who their investigators are and what they have found?”
“You want me to go in front of a judge to request their records be disclosed?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I want,” I said.
“It’s not going to be cheap,” Chavez said.
“I can afford it. Look, they said they might have a lead on Georgie’s father. They won’t share their findings with my guy, and when I checked in with him, he told me it sounds fishy.” As I proceeded to share with Chavez what the PI said, I sounded paranoid. But this was Georgie I was talking about. I wasn’t going to stop being suspicious until I was awarded full custody.
“Normally, I would say he’s making shit up, but there have been similar cases in the past. Kids get ‘lost’ in the system, only to find out someone in DCS pocketed a lot of adoption fees. And you mentioned last week, they were snooping through your laundry and belongings. Do you trust your nanny? She’s not going to hand over the kid if these people show up saying they have her father some time when you aren’t around?”
I didn”t like the sound of that. “Yeah, I think so. She’s not one of theirs.”
“Huh?”
“They tried to get me to hire from a nanny place they recommended. I didn’t like their recommendations. I found my own,” I admitted.
“I would sit down with your nanny and lay it out. Tell her your concerns and that under no circumstances is she to hand that baby over to anyone not yourself, even if the kid”s father miraculously turns up on your doorstep crying about how he’s been looking for her for months.”
None of this would be a concern if they had just let Cecelia stay as my case worker. There was no way she would have ever been involved in a plot to take Georgie away from me.
The baby monitor sounded with Georgie’s babbles as she woke up from a nap. She wasn’t crying or distressed, so I let her be while I finished my call with Chavez.
I didn’t feel relaxed or confident after either call. I punched Cecelia’s number. It went straight to voicemail. “You’ve got your reasons. I’m trying to understand. Something concerning has come up with your employers and Georgie. I think they got you out of the way. Give me your address. I want to come see you.”
I pulled up the photo of Cecelia, Georgie, and me. It had been the day I knew she belonged with me, both of them. She was all smiles, and her yellow top coordinated with Georgie’s yellow dress and hat. I hadn’t even realized I had changed to match them.
Georgie sat playing in her crib, a welcome relief from the times she woke up terrified, miserable, and screaming. When she saw me, she pulled herself up and held onto the rails and said “Dada,” a bunch of times.
As I picked her up, my phone slipped into the crib. Georgie managed to pick it up. She looked at the picture and said, “Mama, Dada,” and then slobbered all over it in her style of kiss.
My heart, what there was of it and its capacity to hold emotion other than duty and responsibility, shattered. Georgie missed Cecelia as much as I did. I had to accept that I didn’t own Cecelia. I thought of her as mine because I loved her, needed her.
The same reason I didn’t want Georgie’s father to be found. I loved her. Yes, I had a sense of guilt-driven duty to protect her. But I wanted to keep her around and see what kind of kid she became because I loved her. I picked up the little girl I wanted to be a father to and held her until she squirmed.
“Be that way.” I chuckled.
Georgie babbled her baby talk. I changed her and then carried her to the kitchen for a snack. I buckled her into her highchair before I started poking around the cupboards.
“Do you need anything, Mr. Sterling?” Wayne asked.
“A snack. Georgie needs something, and I’m kind of hungry too. And I still needed to call and have a discussion with Nanny Fletcher regarding Georgie’s safety. And I want to find Cecelia,” I said.
“I can help with the snack. What do you mean regarding Georgie’s safety?” he asked.
“The PI, and Chavez agrees, says the people at the agency are acting fishy. I’m probably being paranoid, but I need to make sure that no one shows up at the door and says they’re Georgie’s father and expects anyone here to just hand her over. If the man is found, there will be lawyers and DNA confirmations in place.”
Wayne pulled out a box of applesauce servings. He opened it and handed me two applesauces. He turned and pulled a couple of spoons out of the drawer.
“You can count on me to ensure her safety. As far as finding Miss Cecelia, why don’t you ask the private investigator who is working to locate Georgie’s father? At least with Miss Cecelia, you know her name, her whereabouts, and her employer.”