Good point.

  “I still want to see them.” How could he be sure they had everything they needed otherwise? Maybe he’d see something Mia didn’t. “So, if that makes you uncomfortable, I can bring them here.” Yeah, right. And set up a playpen in the suite’s living area?

  As if there was one big enough for four-year-olds. Or he’d put them in one if there was.

  “You think it’s best for Ruby and Violet to be there with you?”

  Looking around at the opulence to which he’d grown accustomed, noting not a single thing of interest to a preschooler, he said, “No.” And then, “But there’s a great children’s museum not far from my hotel,” he added. “Mariah O’Connell told me about it. I think they’d like it.”

  “Even if their parents took them there earlier in the summer? Which they might have done.”

  Good point.

  “I have to see them.” There. His bottom line. How could he possibly choose a future that suited them best without first figuring out what they most needed?

  “I know.”

  “Will I be welcomed at Homestead Ranch?”

  Her immediate silence cut into him.

  “I already told you there was room for you to stay,” she finally said.

  When his tired and overwhelmed being warmed at the thought, he quickly nixed the idea. “I can commute.” After bedtime and back before sunrise if need be. And to be clear on his intention, he added, “I’ll need to be here in the city to take care of the estate and other details.”

  Like visiting private adoption agencies?

  No way was he going to get the public authorities involved. He’d keep Brown Eyes and Blue Eyes before he’d make them wards of the state.

  “If that’s it for tonight, I need to go, Jordon.”

  Thanking her again, so hugely in her debt he’d never be solvent there again, Jordon gave her a quiet “good night” and hung up.

  And sat in the near dark alone, sipping his drink, trying not to think about Mia Jones.

  Or the fact that she hadn’t even tried to get him to change his mind about staying at the ranch.

  * * *

  Hanging up from Jordon, Mia was suddenly swamped with energy. There was so much to do. So little time to get it done. Plans had to be made, her schedule adjusted.

  She’d need...things.

  Ruby and Violet would never know she was anything except a babysitter, but that didn’t mean she could just pretend that they were no more a part of her than any other child for whom she’d ever cared.

  She had no rights to them.

  And was fairly certain that Jordon would never agree to give her any. He thought her secluded to the point of unhealthy. Or something close to it.

  Words from the past came back to haunt her. The things he’d said when she’d made it clear that she wasn’t going to leave Shelter Valley.

  Didn’t seem to matter to him that she’d been giving him the same message, loud and clear, for the four years they’d known each other, two years as exclusive life partners. He’d accused her of running from life. Hiding away. Being afraid to live fully.

  All because she hadn’t needed to go find her paradise. She’d been living in it her whole life. Some said she was lucky, knowing so completely where she belonged.

  Jordon had thought she just didn’t know any better.

  Not anything she could change.

  But she could choose to focus on the immediate. On doing everything she could to help Ruby and Violet through their crisis, and hopefully build a happy memory or two in their psyches to help them glide more successfully into their futures.

  She’d been given a gift.

  And would be one to the precious little recently orphaned girls who unknowingly carried her genes.

  Jordon had let her take photos of the information included in the girls’ file. Online, she ordered a grocery delivery from the local store for early morning, including the boxed macaroni and cheese, frozen fish sticks and fresh bananas that the girls loved. Ruby would eat corn. Violet tolerated peas. Mia had canned sweet corn from her own land. Ordered peas.

  And the juices the girls liked, in kid-size boxes with straws.

  Next, on a different site, she ordered washable paints in various forms, nontoxic glue, water wings and a couple of size four toddler swimsuits. Sizes were easy, taken from the matching clothes the twins had had on. She chose a one-piece. Purple and pink. With unicorns. She’d seen unicorn T-shirts in their suitcase, and one of the books that came with them was about unicorns. Next, she added jeans, four pairs, also in toddler size 4. And then, with a quick quiet check of their tennis shoes, added two jeweled pairs of cowboy boots to go with them. Paying for overnight shipping, she might have scoffed at the possibility of getting anything by the next day, living—as she did—in a small town an hour from anyplace else. But with the huge online retailer having a major warehouse in Phoenix, she pretty much always got her deliveries on time or early.

  And then she moved to her craft room. Pulling out Popsicle sticks, Q-tips, bins of embellishments and some canvas, too.

  Ruby and Violet’s visit with her was time out of time. She couldn’t affect their permanent world, or their future, but she could try hard to show them some happiness and fun during the hours they were with her.

  Much later, after several more checks on her sleeping houseguests, she finally made herself go to bed—with her door hanging wide. She lay there, eyes open just as fully, staring at the closed door across the hall.

  An hour after that, she slid out of bed, moved quietly down the hall to her office, and sent an email to Savannah Compton, the Sierra’s Web lawyer whose contact information was all over the paperwork Jordon had had.

  The woman represented the Robinsons, not Jordon. The Sierra’s Web fee was being paid out of the estate, on behalf of Ruby and Violet.

  And Mia needed to know whether or not a DNA test, proving her biological relationship to the girls, would give her any legal rights to visitation with them.

  That done, refusing to listen to a heart that still hadn’t learned how to shut out Jordon Lawrence, she went to sleep.

  Chapter Five

  Jordon did not contact any of the private adoption agencies listed on the internet. He didn’t even do the search to create the list.

  He didn’t drive by the Robinsons’ home or contact estate sale companies.

  He traded stocks. Touched base with the top people who worked with him, saying only that he had unexpected personal business in Phoenix, and would be working remotely for a week or two. And as soon as the final bell rang in New York, he got back into his rented SUV and turned it toward Shelter Valley.

  He didn’t call first. Didn’t want to be told that later would be better. Or have his call ignored. He was responsible for those two little girls, and he had to see for himself that they were either thriving or not.

  How he’d know, he didn’t have a clue. But he was a quick study. Once the fog cleared, he’d figure it out. In the meantime, he called his mother. They had a standing Tuesday night dinner date and he was going to miss it.

  “That’s fine, Jordie, thanks for letting me know,” Layla Lawrence said when Jordon explained that he was going to miss dinner. She hadn’t asked why. And wouldn’t. Layla took life as it came. Didn’t get worked up about...well...anything.

  Not even when he’d bought her the waterfront condo and moved her from poverty in Phoenix to spend the rest of her life in luxury.

  She went with the flow.

  Had been going with the flow since his father had died.

  Jordon had been eight at the time.

  “I’m not sure yet when I can reschedule,” he told her, honestly regretful to miss the weekly hours with her. With Layla, he could just be. Once a week, he got out of the rat race and semivegetated on his mother’s couch while they watched her favorite game shows together. He’d been telling himself for years that he did it for her.

  But he’d known for a while that he did it for himself, too.

  “No worries,” Layla said now. “I know you’re busy.”

  He’d called off before. Several times a year. Whenever there were functions, theater openings, private museum gatherings that he shouldn’t miss. He’d appreciated her response each and every time.

  But in the rented vehicle, on his way to Shelter Valley, Layla’s lack of motherly nosiness frustrated him.

  She’d asked about his day when he’d been a kid. Asked about homework. Always remembered to follow up. To pick him up. To show up.

  Just hadn’t ever asked anything for herself.

  And in his adult life, never asked anything of him, either.

  But every single time he called, she was there. Calm as could be.

  “I’ve got a situation, Ma.”

  “You got trouble?” No alarm. No blame or condemnation, either. Just a request for information.

  “No.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Remember when I couldn’t get another loan for the last semester at Montford?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then I did.”

  “Yes. You said it was legal.” He’d offered. She hadn’t asked. Nor had she requested to know anything else.

  At the time, he’d loved her for that.

  “It was. I donated sperm.”

  “Lots of people do. Quite a few med students, so I’ve read.”

  Layla was always quoting what she’d read. He’d learned to rely on that information. His mother spent most of her time reading. And was select in what voices she’d allow access to her brain. She vetted everything.

  “My sperm was used, Ma.” A conversation he’d never envisioned having. In a dozen lifetimes. “Along with Mia’s eggs.”

  “Jordon Lawrence, you better not be about to tell me that you got the sweet girl pregnant and then walked out on her.”

  Jerking back so hard the seat belt chafed the side of his neck, Jordon focused on the road. Stunned. If he’d ever heard that tone from her, it would have to have been before his father’s asthma-related death.

  “Jordon?” There was clear warning in her tone.

  “No, Ma, I didn’t get Mia pregnant. We donated embryos. Professor Newgate knew I needed the money. He had a friend. A doctor and his wife, a psychiatrist, who weren’t genetically able to conceive. They were looking for candidates to donate eggs and sperm, which she’d then carry. They were offering a full year’s tuition. I turned him down, but when I told Mia about it, she was on fire with the idea. I’d get to finish school, and we’d be giving a couple a chance to have a family like the one we were so excited to have someday...”

  His own words stopped him, then. Had he been excited about having babies with Mia? Or was that just another lie he’d told her? A pretense he’d played out because he’d thought she’d change her mind?

  He’d thought about finding a good nanny in New York, someday. So...yeah...maybe he’d wanted kids with her.

  When he’d been too young to know better.

  You couldn’t be gone fifteen hours a day and be a good dad.

  “What’s going on, Jordon?” There was still more than just calm in his mother’s tone.

  “Mia and I were told the couple miscarried. But they froze our embryos. Tried again, and four years ago they gave birth to twins.”

  Silence filled the car. Where was Layla’s steady offering of “okay”?

  “The couple passed away a week ago, Ma. And left the twins to me.”

  “You have them? Right now? At your apartment?” Staccato.

  “No.”

  And he wasn’t going to have them. Or might not. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” he said then.

  “Of course you should have. Where are these children?”

  “With Mia.”

  “Where are you?”

  “On my way to Shelter Valley.”

  “You’re in Phoenix?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How’s the weather?”

  Seriously. “Sunny. Hot. Exactly like you’d expect for mid-August.”

  “Good. I miss the sunshine. And the heat, too.”

  She’d never said so.

  “What are their names?”

  Brown Eyes and Blue Eyes. “Violet and Ruby.”

  “They’re girls.” Still something in her voice. It sounded good, whatever it was.

  “Yes.”

  “Am I selfish to even consider keeping them, Ma? Bringing them back to New York with me?” As soon as he heard the words, he berated himself for saying them. Talking like such a thing was a possibility. Or even remotely on the table.

  Beyond that, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked for her opinion.

  Was there anything he could do for her? Anything she wanted? Those were the questions he generally presented to Layla.

  Another silence fell, and he waited. As though his mother’s advice would solve the whole issue. Layla knew things.

  “You’re their father, Jordon.”

  That was it? A statement of a fact he already had?

  “Yeah.” He needed more.

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  “Would you like it if I brought them home?” Was he looking for justification he didn’t have? Trying to guilt himself into doing something that didn’t seem right?

  “This isn’t about me, Jordie. My job is to support, not to dictate, the direction in which your life goes. And your job is to put the welfare of your children first.”

  “You think I should put them up for adoption.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  No, but she hadn’t been happy as a single parent. And he hadn’t been as happy in a single-parent home as he’d been with two parents.

  Grief had played a part in that. But Ruby and Violet were grieving, too. As much as four-year-olds could.

  “What does Mia want?”

  “She hasn’t said. Except to point out that the Robinsons left the girls solely to me for a reason.” Or rather, she’d made note of the fact that they’d chosen him over their own siblings. If they’d wanted Ruby and Violet to go to their aunts and uncles, then they’d have appointed them guardians. “They made a conscious choice, Ma. They knew I live in the city. Knew what I do. And they still chose me.” Did that mean the Robinsons wanted him to raise their daughters in New York?

  His daughters, now, too.

  And Mia’s, biologically.

  “Is she married?”

  “She lives alone.” He’d been told that much by Sierra’s Web, when they’d talked about her horse therapy program. That was when he should have told them that Mia was the girls’ biological mother. “But I have no idea if she’s involved with anyone. I didn’t ask.”

  He should have.

  Hadn’t wanted to know.

  “Would you help, Ma? If I did bring them home?”

  “Yes.” That tone was back. The new one. He liked it.

  But wasn’t sure he was being fair to her, either.

  * * *

  The day hadn’t started out all that great—aside from the fact that Mia had woken up for the first time with her own biological children in her home. Ruby woke them all up at six, crying for her mother. Violet’s lower lip had been trembling by the time Mia made it across the hall.

  Having had the crying preschoolers dress quickly, redirecting Violet to help her grab clean shorts and shirts for both of them, she’d explained to them that Macy was waiting to help them anytime they missed their mom. Crossing her fingers and hoping that she hadn’t just created worse problems. Macy wouldn’t always be available. She’d said it only because she’d once heard Mariah, now Mariah Macy’s Mom, repeat similar words to seven-and eight-year-old siblings who’d lost an older brother in Iraq.

  As a distraction, the idea had worked. There’d been no more tears. She’d made cheesy scrambled eggs for breakfast. They’d both eaten some. They’d emptied grocery bags when they’d arrived, placing items on the table as she’d asked.

  Her idea to let them see everything, to recognize things they liked, seemed to have worked. She’d heard Violet tell Ruby “macaroni and cheeses” as she’d put them on the table. Ruby, with her hand in her own bag, had nodded and then, pulling out a box of the toaster pastries they liked, had announced them.

  When that moment had brought tears to Mia’s eyes, she’d quickly diverted herself. To being thankful the twins had each other.

  And she had a chance to get to know them, for whatever brief time they were there.

  Or...perhaps...for longer.

  She’d heard back from Savannah Compton by midmorning. The lawyer had told her that she had every right to file a motion to prove biological maternity of the girls and request visitation. Whether or not the court granted her request the lawyer couldn’t say. As the twins’ attorney, she’d want an expert opinion from Kelly Chase, also a Sierra’s Web partner, as to Mia’s suitability in the girls’ lives.

  During the girls’ half hour with Mariah Macy’s Mom, Mia had spoken to her own attorney, Jane Sylvester, who’d agreed to file the motion, and she’d scheduled an appointment with Kelly Chase, too, who’d chosen to do at least the first session at the ranch the next day, during the twins’ session with Macy. She wanted to see Mia in her own environment.

  And, Mia had surmised, and had confirmed through her attorney, to see the girls in that environment, too. If they happened to be there at the time of Kelly’s visit.

  Under Jane’s advice, Mia had opted not to tell Jordon about the motion. Jane figured that Savannah would tell him at some point, as he was the girls’ guardian, but probably not until the motion had been filed.

  Sierra’s Web, including Kelly Chase, were already employed on the girls’ behalf. Seeing them at the ranch was within Kelly’s jurisdiction.

  The thoroughness with which Madeline and Keith had provided for their daughters in the event of their deaths spoke a whole lot about how much the couple had adored the girls.