She spoke to Alice again on Monday, and she said it was looking good. The birth mother liked her a lot. And after she hung up, Paris was beaming when she came out of her office, and Bix looked upset.

“What's wrong?” She looked at him with a warm grin.

“You tell me,” he said, and asked her to come into his office and sit down. “Paris, what the hell is going on?” She suddenly wondered if she'd screwed something up for a client, and was worried by the look on his face.

“With what?” He looked furious with her, but in truth he was scared.

“Either you're having an affair, or you're looking for a new job. And since you insist you won't date, I figure it's the latter. Every time I walk past your office, the door is closed, and you look like a Cheshire cat.” He looked profoundly upset, and Paris felt badly to have caused him concern.

“I'm sorry, Bix,” she said gently. “You're going to have to drag me out of here, if you ever want to get rid of me. I'm not going anywhere.” She wanted to reassure him, but he only looked more confused.

“Then what the hell is it?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. And she smiled, just as he had said, like the proverbial Cheshire cat.

“It's something very wonderful. I think so anyway,” she said proudly. “I'm going to adopt a baby, Bix.” He just sat there and stared at her for endless minutes and then shook his head in disbelief.

“Oh my God. You're not.” It was all he could think of to say.

“I am. At least I hope I am. I met the birth mother yesterday. I've been pursuing this for the past couple of weeks, but I've been planning to for months. I wanted to get Meg married first.” It certainly explained the closed door.

“When did you decide that?”

“About six months ago. After Jean-Pierre. I don't want to do that again. And I don't want to be alone. Bix, when you think about it, it makes a lot of sense.”

“Not to me. Do your kids know?”

“Not yet. I'm going to tell them when Meg gets home.”

“When is this baby due, if you get this one?”

“December first.”

“Shit. There goes Christmas. When were you going to tell me?” He looked even more upset at the prospect. His office was going to be in an uproar without her.

“When I know for sure. This may not be the one, but I hope it is. She's a lovely, wholesome girl, and she looks just like Meg, and me. But even if this comes through, I'm not going to leave you in the lurch over Christmas. I'd like maternity leave for a month or so, but I can take it in January, when things settle down. I'll let you know when I do, and we'll work it out.” He was still staring at her in disbelief, and Paris looked frighteningly calm. She was absolutely sure she was doing the right thing, and it showed. She hadn't had a qualm or a hesitation since she'd met Alice Harper.

“Paris, are you sure? This sounds like a crazy thing to do.”

“Believe me, it isn't. It's the first thing I've done in two and a half years that makes sense, except for coming to work for you. And I can do both. I didn't with Meg or Wim, but other women work.” And she was mature enough now to handle a job and a baby. She wasn't worried about that either. She had thought it all out. “So,” she asked, smiling at him across his desk, “are you going to congratulate me?” She was beaming, as he shook his head.

“No, I'm going to have you committed. I think it's time to call Sydney again, for another blind date. If I had thought that ending it with Jean-Pierre would lead to this, I would have either forced you to marry him, or shot him when he first came near you. I think this is a crazy thing to do. You need a husband, Paris, not a baby.” And in part that was true. Or at best, she could have had both. But not the way things were.

“The baby is enough. I don't need a husband, Bix. I had one. It was great. But that's over.”

“And you're just going to give up on men for the rest of your life? That's crazy.” He looked genuinely upset for her. It was such a terrible waste.

“If it's meant to be, it'll happen someday, maybe when I fall off a ladder and break my arm,” she said cryptically, and he looked confused.

“What does breaking your arm have to do with it?”

“That's how my lawyer met her husband. She broke her arm, he broke his toe, and they met in an emergency room.”

“How cute,” Bix said, still looking upset. She had given him a lot to digest. She came around the desk to give him a hug, and reassure him everything would be all right, and a few minutes later, Paris went back to her desk. Bix took a bottle of Valium out of his desk, started to open it, shook his head, muttered to himself, and put it back without taking one after all. At least he knew now, he reassured himself, that she wasn't going to quit. But adopting a baby sounded almost as bad to him.





Chapter 30




It was another week before Alice called, and Meg was nearly home by then. But it wasn't good news. Jennifer, the birth mother, had chosen one of the couples instead, and Paris was surprised by how disappointed she was. It felt like the ultimate rejection.

“It works that way sometimes,” Alice said quietly. She knew how Paris felt. “When it's right, it will fall into place. You'll see. I have another option for you. I know you want a newborn, but I just want to run this by you. It never hurts to ask. We have a four-year-old in a Russian orphanage, alcoholic mother, unknown father, no HIV. She's been in the orphanage since she was two. There are two other siblings, and the Russians usually keep them together, but the couple who took them didn't want the little girl. She was scheduled to be adopted by an American family in Phoenix, and they backed out yesterday. The father has been diagnosed with a brain tumor, and they don't want to take on an adoption. So she's up for grabs. I have a picture of her I can e-mail to you. She looks very cute, but I know this wasn't what you had in mind.” Paris thought about it for a second and was about to say no, and then won

dered if this was fate, sending her this child.

“Can I think about it?” Paris asked cautiously.

“I'll send you the e-mail.” And when she did, Paris thought she had never seen a sweeter face. She sat and stared at it as Bix came into her office and looked too.

“Who's that?”

“A four-year-old in a Russian orphanage. She's available for adoption. The birth mother I saw doesn't want me.”

“Oh my God,” Bix said, and turned away from the photograph. “Tell me this isn't happening. Paris, I'll marry you myself if you stop this nonsense.” He was horrified by her adoption project, and said so whenever he got the chance.

“It's not nonsense,” she said, looking at him. She was so calm it frightened him. He had never seen her so determined. “And I don't want to get married. Except for you, I might make an exception. What about Steven? Should we adopt him?”

Bix stared at her, it was a nightmare happening, as far as he was concerned. “I need a Valium.”

“Do you want me to call your doctor?”

“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “I have about four hundred of them in my office. Would you like one?”

“No, thanks, I'm fine.” And two hours later she called Alice and told her she had decided against the Russian orphan. She felt more comfortable about a newborn.

“I thought so. I just thought I'd ask. I think I have a lead on another birth mother for you, by the way. I'll know more in a few days. I'll call you.”

And that weekend Meg and Richard came back from their honeymoon and called her. She invited them to come up and visit. She wanted Wim to be there with them, but they said they were busy. And Bix and Paris had Halloween to contend with.

It was early November when they finally made it up. They decided to have early Thanksgiving with her, since they were flying east to spend it with Peter. And shortly after they arrived, Richard mentioned to her that Andrew said he had called her. Paris looked faintly embarrassed.

“I know. I'm sorry. That was rude of me. I never called him.” But she really didn't want to.

“I think he was afraid he had offended you. He's a hell of a nice guy,” Richard staunchly defended him.

“If he calls again, I'll talk to him. I promise.”

“I'll tell him.”

And after that they sat down to dinner, and had a traditional Thanksgiving meal. But there was nothing traditional about the look on their faces when Paris told them she wanted to adopt a baby. Both her children looked like they were going into shock.

“You what?” Meg stared at her, for the first time not willing to support her. “Mom, that's crazy. You're too old to have a baby.”

“That's possible,” Paris conceded, “although I'm not entirely sure of that either. But that's not what I have in mind. I want to adopt one. And I'm certainly not too old to take care of a baby. Women older than I am are having them by in vitro fertilization.” She defended her position, but so far hadn't convinced them.

“They have husbands.” Meg was almost shouting, and she was looking to Richard to be her ally. So far he had said nothing. And Wim looked horrified. His whole family was going crazy. His parents had divorced, his father had married a girl almost half his age, now they had a six-month-old baby, he had two stepbrothers, and now his mom wanted to adopt a baby. Neither he nor Meg was enthused by the project, and they made no bones about it.

“Single women adopt babies, and so do single men,” Paris said calmly.

“Let them,” Meg said childishly. “I think it's stupid for you to adopt a baby. Why would you want to do that?”

“Because I'm lonely,” Paris answered quietly, and both of her children stared at her. “You two are grown up, and have your own lives. I don't. Except for my job. You were my life. And I'm not your responsibility. I have to make my own life worthwhile. I want to have a baby, to love and take care of, and keep me company, until it grows up too. It doesn't mean I don't love both of you, of course I do. But I don't want to be alone either.” There was a deafening silence, and Richard looked at her with great compassion, as though they were the only two adults in the room, and he got it. He put an arm around his wife and tried to explain it to her.