Nicole rushed over to the sink to fill the baby bottle with water. Victoria tried bouncing, and then some rocking. She even cooed, “Mommy will be right back,” but nothing worked; Zoe was in a mighty pissed-off mood and apparently determined to let everyone in the building know it.
Nicole dumped the formula into the bottle and shook it—by this point Zoe had worked herself into a full-fledged fit, rather like a wailing police siren—then hurried back to Victoria and scooped the baby up. She settled Zoe on her lap, plunked the bottle into Zoe’s mouth, and literally mid-howl the crying just stopped.
Silence.
“Wow.” Victoria chuckled, a combination of shock and awe. “Is that always how she is when she’s hungry?”
“And when she’s tired, or has a wet diaper, or dropped her pacifier, or she’s too warm or too cold . . .” Nicole peered down at her daughter. “She’s a little pistol, all right.” She gently stroked her finger across Zoe’s cheek, wiping away a tear.
In that small moment, Victoria saw the full range of Nicole’s emotions. She saw the exhaustion in the other woman’s eyes, the frazzledness, the uncertainty, but also the love and adoration she felt for her daughter.
She could help this woman; she knew that.
Nicole’s case was both unusual and complicated, and she would need a good family lawyer, someone who would make sure that Nicole wasn’t railroaded or taken advantage of in court. A lawyer who would ensure, first and foremost, that Zoe’s interests were protected.
Victoria looked down at the baby, who now drank contentedly from the bottle, as if nothing had ever been amiss. A little pistol, indeed.
Good for you.
She got up from the couch and took a business card out of her briefcase. “Here,” she said, putting the card on the coffee table in front of Nicole. “Call my office tomorrow and we’ll talk about where to start with your case.”
Nicole read the card out loud. “‘Victoria Slade and Associates.’” She cocked her head and looked Victoria over, taking in her designer suit. “It’s really nice of you to offer to help. But honestly? I doubt I can afford a lawyer like you.”
“We’ll figure something out.” The truth was, Nicole almost certainly could not afford a lawyer like her, at least not at Victoria’s standard hourly rates. But she had taken on pro bono and reduced-rates matters in the past. That was one of the advantages of being the boss—she had the freedom to basically do whatever she wanted.
And the more she thought about it, she did want to help. This past month, she’d been feeling unsettled about a lot of things: the break-in, the panic attacks, and the flashbacks about her mother. But this situation here, with Nicole and Zoe, was something she could fix.
She may not have been able to ride a damn subway car, but the law was her wheelhouse.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
Nicole’s eyes widened. “That’s probably Ford. You can’t say anything about this yet—not until I’ve had the chance to talk to him tonight. He doesn’t know the truth about Zoe’s father. I was too embarrassed to tell my family the real story, so I made up an ex-boyfriend who ditched me when he found out I was pregnant.”
“I won’t say a word.” Victoria winked at Nicole as she got up to answer the door. “That’s attorney-client-privileged information now, right?”
And as far as she was concerned, the less said to Ford Dixon, the better.
Nine
FORD WENT STRAIGHT to Victoria’s place from the parking garage—still carrying his messenger bag—thinking his sister and niece would need to be rescued as fast as possible from the clutches of his cranky, meddlesome neighbor.
Victoria opened the door, looking every inch the high-powered lawyer in her sleek black suit. “Mr. Dixon. How nice of you to grace us with your presence,” she said faux-politely.
“I hear you’re harboring my sister. More of your apparent quest to be all up in my business, I take it?” His smile was as pleasant as hers, his words just as dry.
“Something like that.” She stepped back, giving him room to come inside.
He saw Nicole sitting on a couch in the living room, feeding Zoe, and could tell that she’d been crying.
Surprised, he shot Victoria a quick glance, and then headed over. “Nic. What happened?”
“Oh, you could say it’s been a bit of a rough day. But luckily, your neighbor here is a saint.”
Ford stole another look at Victoria, who had moved into the kitchen to give them space. Her rich, dark brown hair fell forward as she typed something on her cell phone.
A saint? Clearly, he was missing something.
First things first. “Are you and Zoe okay?” he asked Nicole.
“Why don’t we go to your place and talk?” she suggested. “I think we’ve intruded on Victoria for long enough.”
His big brother protective instincts went on high alert, hearing this reference to some “talk” he and Nicole needed to have. Still, she was right—they should wait until they were alone. “Sure. I can push the stroller, since you have Zoe.” He looked over at his niece, who gripped the bottle between her two tiny hands. Her head was turned as she drank, and she stared right at him with those big brown eyes.
Reaching over, he tickled her chest, getting her to smile and kick out her legs. “There’s my smile.”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “Of course she smiles for you. Is there any member of the female species who doesn’t adore you?”
From the kitchen, Victoria cleared her throat loudly. She looked over and gestured vaguely with an innocent smile. “Sorry. Must be dry in here.”
Ford threw her a look. Ha, ha.
Carrying Zoe, Nicole walked over to Victoria. “Thanks so much for letting us hang out while we waited.” She lowered her voice. “I’ll call you tomorrow, then, about the thing.”
His ears perked up. What thing? Something obviously was going on with his sister, and he didn’t like being out of the loop. But he stayed silent, holding back his questions until he and Nicole were alone.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help.” Victoria brushed her finger against the back of Zoe’s hand. “Later, kiddo.”
Perhaps by reflex, the baby grabbed her finger.
“Aw, look at that. I think she likes you,” Nicole said.