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Swallowing to shift the lump lodged in my throat, I “X” out of the profile on Caleb’s daughter and open the sign-off from her psychologist. Shaking my head, I murmur, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see Bailey’s doctor’s name here, should I?”
Likely because when I asked for the name of a therapist to help Bailey adjust to living with a father full-time, moving, her mother’s death, and—most recently—being the unintended victim of a hospital shooting, I knew I would be given the best. Without question, that doctor is Alice Cleary. I have no doubt, considering her proximity to the main event, the best is certainly what Laura Lockwood would need to work through what happened to her as well.
I flip through the social media articles Sam cultivated, noting which paparazzi blessed her with the nickname “Gore.” Now that I understand its origin, I’m amused to know that her family adopted it as well.
I also note the doctor is strikingly attractive. I’d have to be dead not to. Yet, surprisingly, she more often than not is caught on camera alone or on the arm of a family member. More than one member of the press—including the satiric celebrity news magazine StellaNova—notes how “Queen Gore” cares far more about causes than about who she’s seen with.
I read aloud from their clipping, “If the rest of the ridiculously rich and famous acted like the Lockwood/Marshall/Freeman clan—particularly her highness, Queen Gore—real change could happen in this world. Make no mistake, instead of people milling around gossiping about when they should schedule their next martini lunch to talk about scheduling a tea to organize a committee, true action would occur. Maybe they should take their child with a 103 to the Greenwich ER only to end up with a front-row seat to the ballet of Gore dancing between cracking a chest open, calmly soothing this parent as she ran an IV line, and stitching up a wound on an elderly person with interns hovering as she explained the reason she was using a particular suture thread.”
Studying her hospital ID photo, I find myself pulled in by the determination evident on her face. There’s something affecting about it, about her. Maybe it’s the strength of her character instilled by her family, but there’s something about Laura Lockwood that pulls at me.
Or you’re just that desperate for a nanny, I berate myself as I close the file.
Leaning back in my chair, I look for any flaws in the plan. Evaluating the pros and cons from every angle, I come to a conclusion. I caution myself, “We’re both in limbo and she’s not offering forever.”
Besides, Bailey will ultimately benefit from such a positive female role model once she gets to know her. That tips the scales and has me sending an email to Keene with only two words.
I’m interested.
Chapter
Ten
I pace my office back and forth, expecting her call. When my cell rings at eight precisely, I answer it with a brusque, “Liam Payne.”
“Mr. Payne, this is Dr. Laura Lockwood. I believe you’ve been expecting my call.”
I slide behind my desk and focus on the monitor where I’m faced with an enlarged photo of the good doctor’s unforgettable face. “Dr. Lockwood, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Yours as well.” After we dispel with social niceties, an awkward silence spans between the lines before she breaks them. “Alice indicated you’re in need of a medically trained nanny for the next few months.”
Her voice is cool, calm, and collected—something I’m used to from having worked with members of her family. It is, however, a complete one-eighty from Mrs. Destry, whose demeanor can be quantified as a grandmotherly sort. Scrubbing my hand over my hair in agitation, I frown. “I am, but I wouldn’t say we’ve reached the critical state.” Yet, I add silently.
Her doubtful, “Hmm,” makes me wonder if someone—perhaps her father—briefed her on the true state of my desperation. But my panic overwhelms me when she proudly states, “If you’ve already filled the position, then I apologize for wasting both of our time. Have a good evening, Mr. Payne.”
Before she can disconnect, I blur out, “Wait!”
There’s silence on the other end. She’s waiting for me to fill it. Somehow, I know she won’t make the next move due to my reluctance. Then I give her the truth. “I think we’re more at the catastrophic stage.”
A muffled sound transmits over the line. Is that Laura Lockwood’s manner of laughing? A sneer twists my lips when I compare it to Bailey’s helpless giggles. Christ, I don’t want my daughter turned into a soulless socialite in her twelve weeks off from school. Without thought, I state, “Before you meet Bailey, I think we should discuss the offer in person. Nail down any questions you may have.”
“I agree.”
I pull up my calendar and wince between my work schedule and the number of days I have left before Mrs. Destry leaves. “Would it be problematic for you to come to the Hudson office for the meeting?”
“The headquarters in New York or the satellite office in Norwalk?”
“I work out of HQ.”
“What day and time?”
At her crisp return, I frown again. Am I really doing what’s best for Bailey? Despite my concerns, we agree upon a time to meet tomorrow. “I look forward to meeting you tomorrow, Mr. Payne.”
“You as well, Dr. Lockwood.”
After I drop my phone back on my desk, I let out a beleaguered sigh. “What have I set us up for, Buttercup?”
But with my daughter asleep in a different wing of the house, she can’t answer me.