My Babies and Me

“How can I possibly come and visit the mother while remaining nothing to the child?” he asked. His eyes narrowed as he watched her. “How can I see him and not be his father?”

Susan stared at him, frightened, without any answers at all.

CHAPTER NINE

ALMOST AS THOUGH they both realized their time was running out, Michael and Susan spent the rest of the evening sharing everything they could about the things going on in their lives. With one exception. Neither mentioned the pregnancy.

Susan knew she should tell him she was carrying twins. She’d promised Seth she would, but she just couldn’t do it. Michael was hardly able to handle the thought of one child.

Michael talked a lot about his insulation project. The Miller family had shown interest and were meeting with their father in Florida that week.

And he talked about a project he was working on in Denver.

“We’re buying into the landscaping business,” he told her over fettucine alfredo. “Starting in the Denver area, we’re buying out individual landscapers and combining the smaller businesses into one stronger business with many locations. There’s a common cost structure, a common service agreement, one place to call for customer service.” His warm green eyes glowing, Michael was in his element. “And once we’ve finished in the Denver area, we’ll move on to other areas around the country, doing the same thing until, eventually, Coppel owns an entire market. But the best part is, the consumer benefits.”

“Sounds to me like you’re creating a monopoly,” Susan said, challenging him. She remembered many weekend mornings when they were both home, sitting at their kitchen table with the newspaper, having conversations just like this one. She’d never realized how much she’d missed them.

“Not really.” He shook his head. “Say there are one hundred landscapers in the area. We buy out thirty of the best. Of the remaining seventy, some—hopefully the worst—go under, but the most reputable stay in business with loyal customers and referrals.”

He reached for the salt, brushing her hand, lingering, as he did so. “The major benefit here is that when the consumer calls a Coppel landscaper, he’s not at the mercy of one particular person. There’s a regulated price structure, a fair price structure and an accepted standard of business he can count on.”

Susan smiled at him. “Still set on making the world a better place, eh?” she teased him.

Shrugging, Michael grinned back at her.

As they ate apple cobbler, Susan filled him in on the latest with the McArthur case. If she couldn’t find a way to stall, it was going to court in the next couple of weeks.

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Susan murmured. “Ethically, I’m bound to protect Halliday’s, but my heart tells me it’s wrong to see the ruin of a young boy’s life.”

“Business life versus personal life.” Michael nodded as though he knew exactly what she was saying.

“I don’t think so,” Susan said. “When I walk out my door in the morning, I don’t suddenly become less personal because I’m going to work, and I don’t become more of a person when I get home. I’m a businessperson, Michael, wherever I am.”

Fork in mid-air, he stared at her. “And you take who you are to every decision you make.” He sounded surprised, as though the thought had just occurred to him.

“Right.” She knew he’d understand.

“Have you stopped to look for other possibilities in the McArthur case?”

“I’ve been over it so many times I can quote the defense in my sleep,” she told him. “I just don’t see any way for Joe to win without the evidence I can’t give him.”

“So, maybe winning or losing isn’t the only solution.”

“What else is there?”

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing. I’m just suggesting that if you take off your lawyer’s hat and look at the situation again, from another perspective, something might occur to you.”

It was worth a try. One thing was for sure. It couldn’t hurt.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE you finished that second desert.” Michael was laughing at her as they drove through the dark Cincinnati streets half an hour later.

Laughing too, Susan said, “I seem to eat with the same intensity that I get sick.”

“You do everything with intensity, Susan.” All traces of laughter were gone. “It’s one of the things I always loved about you.”

The words took her breath away. “Thank you.”