A roaring twenties runaway...

A baby who needs a daddy!

With the Chicago mob hot on her heels and her late best friend’s baby in her arms, Helen Hathaway hightails it to Hollywood. There she finds little Grace’s uncle, charismatic film producer Jack McCarney. She knows she should keep him—and Grace—at arm’s length; after all, they could be wrenched apart by Grace’s father’s return. But instead she’s falling for Jack, bonded by the baby who needs them both...

A lover of fairytales and cowboy boots, LAURI ROBINSON can’t imagine a better profession than penning happily-ever-after stories about men—and women—who pull on a pair of boots before riding off into the sunset…or kick them off for other reasons. Lauri and her husband raised three sons in their rural Minnesota home, and are now getting their just rewards by spoiling their grandchildren. Visit: laurirobinson.blogspot.com, facebook.com/lauri.robinson1 or twitter.com/LauriR.

Also by Lauri Robinson

Saving MarinaWestern Spring Weddings

Her Cheyenne Warrior

Unwrapping the Rancher’s Secret

The Cowboy’s Orphan BrideMail-Order Brides of Oak GroveWinning the Mail-Order Bride

Western Christmas Brides

Married to Claim the Rancher’s Heir

In the Sheriff’s ProtectionDiary of a War Bride

Brides of the Roaring Twenties miniseries

Baby on His Hollywood Doorstep

And look out for the next book

coming soon

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Baby on His Hollywood Doorstep

Lauri Robinson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08899-2

BABY ON HIS HOLLYWOOD DOORSTEP

© 2019 Lauri Robinson

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my only sister, Cheri.

An amazing woman.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Prologue
Chicago, Illinois, 1925

She’d done it!

Helen Hathaway pinched the clasp on her purse, making sure it was securely closed. It was only a piece of paper, but that secretarial course certificate meant far more to her. It was her future.

She already had a job!

Would start tomorrow.

The happiness of her accomplishment was overshadowed by worry of what her father would say about it all. She pressed a hand to her churning stomach while glancing at the back of his head in front of her. He was driving, her brother sitting next to him. The two of them were laughing about something. She hadn’t heard what. Hadn’t been paying attention.

Her mind was on that certificate in her purse.

She glanced at her mother, sitting next to her in the backseat. Mother was the only one who knew she’d taken the secretarial course. Who knew she wanted a job outside of the family business. One that would eventually get her out of Chicago.

Far. Far away.

A hint of guilt tickled Helen’s stomach. Not even Mother knew how far away she wanted to get.

Offering her one of her secretive smiles, Mother nodded. “Ray,” she said while smoothing the cuff of the pink glove on her wrist. “Helen has something to celebrate tonight, too.”

“She does?” Father answered.

A ripple of excitement shot through Helen at the sound of enthusiasm in his voice. She bit back a smile, but it was to no avail. She couldn’t keep it hidden.

Mother nodded again, and glanced toward the front seat.

“Yes,” Helen said. “I got a job today.”

“A job?” Junior, her brother twisted and lifted a dark brow as he looked at her over the seat. “Doing what?”

He was only three years older than her, had just turned twenty last month, but acted far older and far more superior. As most of the men she knew did.

She lifted her head and looked him in the eye. “Typing.”

He rolled his eyes. “Typing what? Where?”

“Helen completed a secretarial course, and today Mr. Stamper offered her a job at the laundry,” Mother said, giving Junior an eye that told him to keep any comments to himself. “It’s only a couple blocks away from the house, and will be something to keep her busy.”

The smile tried to slip off Helen’s face, but she wouldn’t let it. Not while Junior was still looking at her. This job would do more than keep her busy, she’d show him. Show all of them.

Junior snorted, and then turned around as father pulled the car into the lot near the restaurant. It was her uncle’s birthday. A big celebration. It was the first one like this that she’d been allowed to attend. She wasn’t overly excited about that. The less she had to do with the family, the more she liked it, but she was excited about her new dress. White with green stripes. The weather was warm, so she wasn’t wearing a jacket, but did have on a pair of pristine white gloves and matching shoes. Mother had helped her pick out the outfit and she would wear it again tomorrow, to her first day of work.

That’s what she was really excited for.

Father kissed her cheek as she climbed out of the car. “You want to work at the laundry?” he asked.

Fearful that he’d deny her this, she nodded. “Yes, I do. Very much.”

He smiled and nodded. “All right, then.”

Happiness fully engulfed her. She wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you. Thank you.”

He gave her a tight squeeze and then let her go to take ahold of Mother’s arm. Junior walked beside her as they all headed toward the restaurant. Junior gave her a questioning look, but she kept her eyes forward. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her parents and her brother, she just didn’t like who they were. Who she was. Now that she fully understood. The truth hadn’t shocked her, she’d always known they were different, that her father and brother didn’t have normal jobs.

They were part of the Outfit. All of them. Her parents. Junior. Her. They were one of many families who lived two lives. An outside one, and an inside one.

The noise inside the restaurant filtered out as Father opened the door and Junior held it as they all stepped inside. It was wall-to-wall people. Her uncle Vinnie, a formidable figure, stood on the far side of the room, surrounded by others, and waved at them as they entered.

Mother took ahold of her arm. “Let’s go to the powder room while the men get a drink.”

Helen caught glimpses of people she’d known her entire life, cousins, aunts and uncles as she followed her mother around tables and chairs toward the hallway at the back of the building. Most of them weren’t blood relatives, but were referred to as family because they were all part of the Outfit. Helen wondered if any of the others thought like her. Wanted out of this life before it was too late. That had resonated deep inside her when her cousin Amelia had been mugged by a member of the North End Gang.

More than mugged.

Mother stopped to visit, talking about the new dress she was wearing, and Helen, espying her cousin Karen, kept walking toward the hallway.

“Isn’t this exciting?” Karen asked, clapping her hands with glee. “Your first grown-up party?”

Helen nodded, but kept her honest opinion about that to herself. “I got a job,” she whispered instead.

Karen frowned. “Why?”

Helen open her mouth to reply, but chaos struck just then. It was a moment before she realized what was happening. That the earsplitting rat-a-tat sound was gunfire. Tommy guns. Bullets were flying, glass shattering and people screaming, running, falling.

“Run!”

Someone grabbed her arm, she tried to shake it off, searching for her family, but there were too many people. Too many bullets.

Chapter One
California, 1927

Helen tucked her chin into her neck in order to see over the top of her glasses and get a clear look at the building out of the car window. It wasn’t tall like the hundreds, maybe thousands they’d driven past, nor was it made of bricks or stone like so many of the ones that had taken up miles upon miles of the streets of Los Angeles. The city was larger than she’d imagined. That unsettled her and she hugged the baby sleeping in her arms a bit tighter while attempting to swallow the lump in her throat.

Made of wood, the building sprawled out along the street rather than upward like those downtown, and there were few windows, almost as if they didn’t want people looking inside. Several tall palm trees grew next to the building, and she had to wonder how trees could grow amongst so much concrete and traffic.

“This is the address, ma’am,” the driver repeated.

The streetcars didn’t come this far out, which is why she’d had to hire a taxi, yet there was plenty of traffic traveling up the road toward a gigantic white sign up on the hill. HOLLYWOODLAND.

Drawing in a deep breath, Helen held it until her lungs burned. She checked the knot of the scarf tied beneath her chin, making sure it was tight, then picked up her purse and twisted to step out of the car without juggling Grace too much. Once on the curb, she shifted the baby farther into the crook of her arm in order to slip her purse onto her wrist under the baby so she could take the small suitcase the driver was fetching out of the black-and-green-checkered cab. That suitcase held all of her earthly possessions as well as Grace’s. A shiver rippled her insides, once again making her wonder if she could do this; yet she knew she had to.

“Would you like me to carry this inside for you, ma’am?”

Every nerve in her body was trembling. “No. No. Thank you.” Helen reached out, took the hard-sided case. “Thank you again for the ride.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am, and good luck to you.” He climbed back in the taxicab and pulled away from the curb.

A horn honked as the taxi cut into the traffic and Helen’s stomach sank. Not in criticism of his skills, but at the departure itself. She was here. In California. Taking the last steps of the journey she and Grace had traveled. Once again, as she had a million times already, she wished there was another choice.

There wasn’t.

Her throat swelled up. Grace was such a good baby. Had barely fussed the entire train ride. Only whimpered a bit when she’d been hungry or needed a diaper change. She was adorable too, with her soft fuzzy blond hair and big dark eyes. The wave of sadness that engulfed Helen made her eyes sting.

She approached the building with caution at first but, remembering that Grace would soon need to be fed, her footsteps grew more purposeful.

It seemed odd that the address was for this—a building rather than a residence, a house or an apartment. But this is where Vera had mailed the letters to, so this is where they’d traveled to. She and Grace. All the way from Chicago.

At the door, Helen paused. Star’s Studio was painted on the glass in sparkling gold paint. She had no idea what that would mean for Grace, and had to hope it would be good.

She took another deep breath and grasped the handle.

The door wouldn’t budge.

She tried again. Jiggled the door.

It was locked. Locked. In the middle of the day.

She peered through the window, but it was too dark inside to see anything.

Flustered she stepped back and glanced down at Grace. The baby was still sleeping, yet Helen whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t just leave you on the doorstep.”

She wouldn’t, but she had prepared herself for this moment—the time where she would turn Grace over and walk away. It was going to break her heart, but the alternative was worse.

The pain of losing her entire family in the raid by the North End Gang on the restaurant two years ago still lived inside her, as did watching Vera die only a few months ago. Pain like that was crippling, but she’d lived through it, and would this, too. Grace’s safety was far more important than anything else.

“If I could keep you, I would,” she whispered to Grace. “But I can’t. You’ll never be safe with me. Never.”

“Mr. McCarney isn’t booking any auditions right now.”

Helen spun around and had to squint through the glasses she’d taken to wearing two years ago. They were part of her disguise, as was the dull baggy dress. Through the blur of the magnified glasses she didn’t need, she made out a woman walking toward her. She was dressed in a sleek, hip-hugging black-and-white-striped dress, complete with matching head scarf tied on the side, and shoes that clicked against the concrete sidewalk.

Another immense wave of everything from heartbreak to fear washed over Helen. “Mr. McCarney is here?” She glanced at the door. “Inside the building?”

The woman stopped next to the door and frowned as her overly long and hard appraisal went from Helen’s toes to the top of her head before it settled on Grace. “Yes, he’s here, but he’s not taking auditions.” The woman inserted a key in the door.

It took Helen a moment to find her voice. “I’m not here for an audition. I just—”

“Whatever you are here for, Mr. McCarney cannot be disturbed.” The woman pulled the door open. “By anyone.”

Despite the way her heart was breaking and her eyes burning, Helen knew she had to act now, or never might.

“Here,” she said, handing Grace to the woman.

Startled, the woman jostled slightly, but took Grace. Hurrying before she changed her mind, Helen set the suitcase on the ground and snapped it open. She pulled out the flour sack she’d filled with all of Grace’s things as the train had pulled into Los Angeles this morning. Then she reached in her purse and pulled out the bottle full of milk.

Since the woman’s hands were full, Helen set the bag inside the door. Her throat was on fire and she had to fight hard to keep herself from crying. “Her clothes and diapers are in here, and another bottle and cans of milk.”

“What? What are you doing?”

Helen could no longer hold back the tears. They burned her cheeks as she set the bottle full of milk on Grace’s stomach and kissed her soft head one last time. “Her name is Grace and she’s a good baby.” Sobs were stealing her breath away. “A—a very good baby.”

“What? No. Take her back!”

The woman held Grace out, but Helen backed away. The pain inside her was so strong. Her heart was truly breaking in two. She shook her head. “She needs her father.”

“I’m not her father!” the woman said.

Helen grabbed the suitcase off the ground. “Mr. McCarney is.” She couldn’t see through the blur of tears, but she had to get away, so she ran. Ran. Like she had that night back in Chicago, when tommy guns had been spitting out bullets all around her.

* * *

It wasn’t just accomplishment or relief, it was knowing this was some of his best work that had Jack McCarney finally returning to his office from the production lot, throwing down the stack of paper in his arms onto the desk and stretching his hands over his head and popping his knuckles. The last three days had been a hellish race against the clock. Locked in a tiny room at the back of the lot, with his director for almost every single minute of them, they’d finally hashed out the script changes needed to make this film the best it could be.

He loathed script changes as much as he loathed actor changes. But he’d be the first to admit, it would have been impossible to film the script the way it had been originally written. This new version, the reason he’d barely left the studio for over fifty hours, would take Hollywood by a storm.

It was good. Damn good. He’d worked with Malcolm Boyd before, and though the actor wasn’t as well-known as who he’d originally cast to play the role of Walter Reeves, Boyd was now a good fit for Reeves and would play the role to a T with Wes Jenkins as the perfect supporting actor.

Full of exhilaration Jack leaned forward and slapped his desk. This was it. His big chance. He couldn’t wait to start filming.

He couldn’t wait to eat something, either. His ribs were damn near poking out of his shirt.

Jack glanced at his watch, checking to make sure Julia’s diner was still open. She hated Hollywood and everything about it, mainly because of the way Bart Broadbent had swindled her family out of several hundred acres of land. Julia had tried, but couldn’t get the land back. Bart had already sold it to the folks building Hollywoodland. Fancy houses that only the rich and famous could afford. Julia held on to the last few acres of her land with an iron fist, and was making a nice bundle of cash for herself in the process. Her diner had the best food in the neighborhood. Perhaps the city.

He felt bad that Julia’s family had gotten sucked in, but Bart had been known as a dew dropper. The whole lot of Broadbents had been four-flushers, mooching off everyone and anyone.

Recognizing that long ago, Jack had steered clear of Bart and the rest of the Broadbents. He’d warned his brother to steer clear of them too, but like most every other time he’d warned him of something, Joe hadn’t listened. Right before leaving, he’d borrowed money from the Broadbents against his shares in the studio.

Frustration washed over Jack as he pushed away from his desk. The Broadbents had been hounding him, wanting to increase their dividends, ever since Joe left.

He refused, but did send them monthly payments, cleaning up yet another mess that Joe had left behind, because that’s what he’d always done. Cleaned up after Joe.

If his brother hadn’t been such a windsucker, things would be different right now. But that wouldn’t have been Joe. He’d thought he was too big to go down. Too high above the rest. Joe had always thought like that, despite the fact that that had never been the case. No matter how famous one gets, there’s always someone more famous. Richer. With better contacts and contracts.

That was Hollywood, and why you had to be tough to play here.

Joe had been tough, but he’d also been foolish. Too foolish. That’s what had gotten him blacklisted. Banned from ever acting in Hollywood again for immoral conduct.

Jack almost laughed, except it wasn’t funny.

Others were just as immoral, but they didn’t flaunt it. That’s what had brought Joe down, and the reason he’d left. Why he’d been gone for over two years and most likely would never be back.

It hadn’t completely stopped Joe. He was still out there, somewhere, flaunting his Hollywood connections and making promises that would never be fulfilled. The steady flow of women contacting the studio was proof of that. Each one claimed Joe had sent them, promising stardom. Riches. Fame.

There was also a bag full of unopened letters from others who hadn’t been able to muster up the money to actually make it to Hollywood, but wanted the same promises fulfilled.

After opening the first few letters, Jack had simply given instructions to put any other mail that arrived for Joe in the bag. Shattering the dreams of the ones who walked through the studio door was more than enough to deal with.

With frustration rising, Jack stood up. Scooping up the stack of papers that were full of script changes, Jack carried them out of his office and down the long corridor to the front lobby. Beverly Hobbs had done a fine job of following his orders about not being disturbed the past couple of days, and he hoped she was as good of a typist as she was a gatekeeper.

He pushed open the door to the lobby, but froze in his tracks. Front office girls came and went as fast as actors, and right now, even though she’d been working here for only a week, he needed this one. Therefore, he cautiously asked, “You have a baby?”

“No.” She set the bottle on her desk and lifted the infant to her shoulder. “You do.”

Shocked, it was a moment before Jack shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

She stood. “That’s not what the woman who dropped this one off said.”

Jack backed up, half-afraid she was going to hand him the infant. “What woman?”

“The one who was at the door when I came back from lunch.” She pointed to a sack on the desk. “She gave me that bag of diapers and milk and said the baby’s name is Grace and that she needs her father. Mr. McCarney.”

His blood turned to ice. He’d thought he’d seen it all. Women had tried all sorts of things to catch his attention, to make them stars, but claiming he’d fathered their baby. That was a first. “Where is she now? The woman?”

“Can’t say for sure. She took off running like a swarm of bees were chasing her. Last I saw, Julia from across the street ran out to keep her from getting hit.” Miss Hobbs shook her head. “Cars were coming from both directions. It was as if she hadn’t even seen them.”

He should be concerned, ask if the woman had gotten hit, but he wasn’t in the mood to be charitable. “Did she go into Julia’s diner?”

“I don’t know. The phone was ringing. I had a baby in my hands.”

She looked thoroughly flustered. He couldn’t blame her.

He spun around and headed for the door. “I’ll be right back.” Whoever that baby belonged to needed to come and get her. Right now.

“I leave in half an hour.”

“I’ll be right back,” he repeated, almost to the door.

“I have a date!”

“I’ll pay you extra,” he said, marching out the door. He didn’t have time for this kind of baloney. He’d just been given his shot to move Star’s Studio up the ladder and wasn’t about to let anything get in his way. Nothing at all. No one at all.

There was a break in traffic, so he shot across the street.

Grant Collins and Max Houlihan walked out of the diner just as Jack stepped up on the curb. He’d worked with both of them in the past and would again if the time came around that he needed to fill the roles of unsophisticated rubes. They were slapstick funny when they wanted to be. But right now he didn’t have time to listen to them spill.

“Ham’s as good as ever,” Grant said, gesturing a thumb over his shoulder. “But you best get in there if you want any. Terry Jones is bellied up to the counter.”

Terry Jones outweighed all three of them put together and ate as if he was purely dedicated to adding notches to his belt buckle. He was a heavyweight. Had been a boxer at one time, and was now the best set builder in all of Tinseltown.

Jack was no longer hungry, but even in more of a hurry to get inside. “Good to know,” he said, stepping around them to enter the diner.

The tables were all full, so were most of the stools that lined the counter. He had no idea what the woman he was looking for might look like, but recognized enough about the people filling the diner to believe none of them were her. He headed toward the counter and the door behind it that led to the kitchen.

“Hey, McCarney,” Terry Jones greeted from where he sat on the first stool. Jones popped an entire bun in his mouth. Whole. And swallowed it like a Labrador, one gulp, no chewing.

Jack didn’t know if he should nod, or shake his head. Instead of doing either, he grabbed ahold of Rosie’s arm, one of the girls who waited tables, as she walked past. “Where’s Julia?”

“Where do you think she is?” Rosie nodded her head toward the kitchen door.

He’d never been in the kitchen before. Had never had a reason to go back there, before today.

Greta, the other waitress, walked out the door, and he had to step aside so she had enough room for the laden tray she was carrying. Both she and Rosie had come to him begging for an audition at one time. Joe hadn’t sent them. Nor had he sent hundreds of other women. They’d come on their own. The population of LA grew by the thousands every year. People from all walks of life, from all corners of the world, arrived daily, dazzled by the idea of stardom, thinking all they had to do was arrive in Hollywood and all their dreams would come true.

They had reason to believe that might happen. Movie theaters were springing up across the nation, demanding new picture shows daily. Over eight hundred films had been produced last year alone, and more would be this year, giving the public what they were clamoring for. However, it was the magazines and newspapers that suckered people in. They wrote stories of filmmakers on the lookout for talent. Encouraged people to come to LA. Trouble was, those stories were more fictional than the movies being filmed.

He’d long ago grown tired of being the one to shatter the dreams of so many. The truth hurt, and the truth was, moviemaking was a cutthroat industry. Those who were in, were in, those who weren’t, weren’t, and most likely never would be. A very small percentage of the people who’d come to him truly had the talent they’d need to make it in the film industry. Fewer had the resolve. It wasn’t an easy profession, or as glamorous as people thought.

Rosie and Greta had both been upset with him at first, but had gotten over it.

As soon as Greta was out of the way, he pushed open the swinging door of the kitchen.

Julia was at the stove, but it was the woman washing dishes that caught his eye. He didn’t recognize her, and would have if he’d ever seen her before. Although partially hidden behind a pair of glasses, she had an extremely unique set of pale blue eyes. So unique they made him wish the ability to film in color had already been perfected. It would be, some day. And eyes like that would stand out on the big screen. Without the glasses, of course.

“Jack, what are you doing back here?”

He pulled his gaze from the woman and turned to where Julia stood near the stove. Dressed as usual in pink from head to toe, except for the black net that held her dark hair back, she frowned at him.

“There was a woman earlier, running across the street,” he said. “Do you know where she went?”

Julia’s frown increased as she looked at him, then at the woman washing dishes.

A shiver rippled down his spine as he turned in the direction of the sink again. This time he gave her a long appraisal. From the toes of her scuffed brown shoes to the top of her head, where a mass of glistening brown hair was pinned in a soft roll around the base of her head. Except for several corkscrew bangs that hung down and caught on her long eyelashes as she blinked behind those wire-rimmed glasses and settled that unique light blue gaze on him.

Her eyes weren’t the only unique, striking thing about her. The shape of her face was perfect, elegant, her poise graceful, and her skin was flawless. Unblemished and not covered with cosmetics. It was creamy and tinged pink naturally in all the right places. Even her lips had a natural shine about them and were perfectly bowed in the center.

Maybe he should audition her. Even with black-and-white filming, those eyes would stand out. All of her would.

He had to shake his head to get his thinking straight. “You? You’re the woman who dropped a baby off at my studio?”

Shock covered her face as her mouth dropped open.

“A baby?”

“Yes,” Jack said in response to Julia’s question without taking his eyes off the other woman. “A baby.”

“I thought she was just one more wannabe actress, crying her eyes out over not getting an audition,” Julia said.

Anger flared inside him as the woman just stood there, looking at him like he was the oddest thing she’d ever seen. Ignoring Julia’s explanation, he said to the woman, “I have no idea who are you, but you must really think I’m a sap. Let me tell you, I’m not.” He took a step closer and continued in a low, raspy whisper, “I’ve met a lot of two-bit dames looking to make a name for themselves, but never have I had one sink so low as to accuse me of being a father in order to further their own ambitions.” He pointed a finger at the door. “That’s not my child. I know that and you know that, so hightail yourself across the street and collect your baby.”

She blinked several times. Then, shaking her head, whispered, “You aren’t Joe McCarney?”

“No, I’m not, I’m—” Realization hit like a bolt of lightning.

Damn it, Joe! Jack wanted to shout that, several times over. You’ve gone too far this time!

Chapter Two

Helen’s heart was so far into her throat, it was strangling her. Fighting through the pressure, she asked, “Who are you? Where’s Grace? Is she all right?”

“I’m Jack McCarney. And your baby, Grace, is across the street. At the studio.”

“You left her alone?” Helen untied the apron and pulled it off.

“She’s not alone. She’s with my secretary. The same one you left her with hours ago.”

Helen was fighting hard not to run across the street to get back to Grace. She’d fought it all afternoon. A part of her had kept telling herself to get as far away as possible, but the other part of her had refused, saying she had to stay long enough to make sure Grace was fine. From a distance.

At some point, while she’d been crying her eyes out, Julia had offered her a job of washing dishes to pay for room and board for a few days.

Julia assured that was common practice for her. That she often allowed girls needing a place to stay to reside with her in the small house behind the diner until they were able to acquire lodging elsewhere. Julia also hadn’t pried. She’d never once asked why she was here, crying her eyes out. And Helen had been too weak to say no, to refuse the offer of a job and accommodation, because it would mean that she’d be able to make sure that Grace would be okay. Would be cared for. Loved.

A shiver rippled Helen’s spine as the man before her ran a hand through his hair.

His blond hair.

“What did you say your name is?” she asked. He certainly wasn’t the man in the picture with Vera. That man, Joe McCarney, had black hair.

“Jack McCarney,” he answered.

A leering glare from his brown eyes settled on her so fully, so completely, her entire body quivered.

Oh, dear Lord, what had she done?

She was almost afraid to ask, but had to. “Are you related to Joe McCarney?”

“I’m his brother.”

“Joe McCarney is Grace’s father.” Hoping to justify what she’d done, she added, “All I had was the address across the street.”

“Jack—” Julia started.

“Joe isn’t any more that baby’s father than I am,” he barked.

The disapproval in Julia’s face sent another shiver racing over Helen. “Yes, he is,” she said. “I have proof.”

He scowled. “Proof? What sort of proof.”

“A—a marriage license and a wedding picture,” she answered. “They are in my purse. I should have left them with Grace, but forgot about them.”

“Forgot? How could you forget about your marriage license? Your wedding picture?”

Shaking all the way to her core, Helen didn’t have the wherewithal to point out his mistake. “Is Joe across the street?”

“No, Joe isn’t across the street.” He grabbed her arm. “But that’s where you’re going. To collect your baby.”

She considered refusing, but if Joe wasn’t there, she couldn’t leave Grace with this beast of a man.

“You’ll be without a dishwasher for a while, Julia,” he said while marching toward the door.

“Stop,” Helen said, digging her heels into the black-and-white-tiled floor. “I need to get my purse.”

“No, you don’t.”

She refused to move, even though he pulled on her arm. “Yes, I do.”

He let her go. “Fine. Get your purse.”

She hurried across the room, into the little backroom where she’d cried her eyes out most of the afternoon.

Julia was on her heels. “What were you thinking? Dropping a baby off at Jack’s door?”

“I thought it was Joe’s door. He’s Grace’s father. I promised her mother, Vera, on her deathbed that I would bring Grace to him.”

“So the baby isn’t yours?”

“No, she’s not mine. I wouldn’t drop my baby off with some stranger.” Guilt struck her hard and fast. She shouldn’t have dropped Grace off, either. Disgraced by her own actions, she dropped her head. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“It’ll be all right,” Julia said, rubbing her arm. “You can come back here. Our deal still stands, a job for room and board, for both you and the baby.”

Helen didn’t know what to say, other than, “Thank you.”

“Jack is Joe’s brother. The good son. He’s just upset right now. Joe was blackballed from Hollywood over two years ago, and Jack is still cleaning up the messes his brother left behind when he hightailed it out of the state.” Julia shook her head again. “Looks like Joe left him with another one.”

Helen’s heart dropped. “Joe isn’t even in California?”

“No, he left two years ago, and hasn’t been back.”

“Oh, dear.” Helen took off her glasses and wiped at her stinging eyes. Vera had never mentioned that Joe had a brother. She only ever talked about Joe, and how he was coming back. Coming back for her and the baby. Someday.

Perhaps she should have listened to Mr. Amery when he said going to California was a bad idea. That there was no telling what could happen to her and Grace, on the way or once they got here. He’d been kind to Helen after the deaths of her family, giving her a job at his grocery and renting out the apartment above the store to her, and though he’d been a bit begrudging at first, he had let Vera move in as well. Despite all, he’d been very good to both Vera and Grace upon the birth of the baby.

What would happen now? If Joe wasn’t in California, what would she do with Grace?

She had to go get her, that was a given.

“I’ll be back,” she told Julia while picking up her purse. “Thank you, again.”

Jack was still in the kitchen, pacing near the door. He stopped and stared at her as she left the back room.

“Are you ready now?”

“Yes.” In the three months since Grace had been born, they’d never been apart, and excitement at seeing the baby, holding her, increased the speed of Helen’s footsteps. “I’m ready.”

“Let’s go.” Jack pulled open the kitchen door and held it as she crossed over the threshold.

All eyes seemed to land on them, and followed her and Jack as he grasped her elbow and led her through the restaurant toward the door. It was more than uncomfortable, it was unnerving, and, as if she needed an extra reminder, it reinforced exactly why she’d brought Grace to California. She couldn’t be seen. She couldn’t be dragged back to the life she’d been running from ever since that awful night. Her parents and brother had died in the raid at the restaurant, but she hadn’t. She and Karen had run down the hallway, along with a crowd of others, and down to the basement where they raced through a maze of tunnels that had brought them outside in an alley, blocks away from the restaurant.

Her uncle hadn’t died either, and upon discovering that she was staying with Karen, had sent men to collect her. Despite Karen’s warnings that there was no escaping the family, Helen had run again. She hadn’t wanted that life before the raid, and certainly didn’t afterward. The violence had only grown after the raid that night. There were shoot-outs in all sections of the city, at all times of the day and night. So many that the newspapers, which she read every night after stocking shelves and scrubbing the floors at the grocery store, couldn’t keep up.

Thankfully, her uncle hadn’t found her, but it was only a matter of time. She knew that deep inside and that was the reason she’d brought Grace to California. She’d been saving every penny to eventually get away from Chicago, but Grace was the catalyst that made it even more necessary. She’d had to get the baby away from the dangers of being anywhere near her.

Her heart sank. She still had to do that.

She had no reason to believe that someone hadn’t recognized her or seen her as she’d left Chicago. The possibility of that was real. She’d learned a lot during the past two years and knew the Outfit had eyes and ears everywhere. They’d bought off most every police precinct in Chicago, and she knew it was pure luck that she hadn’t already been found and taken back to her uncle.

Karen had said there was only one way to get out of their family and that it included a grave.

The walk across that dining room, with all eyes on her, seemed like the longest one of her life. She had to let out a sigh once it ended, but stepping into the open air wasn’t any better. She’d felt safe enough on the train, had sat way in the back and kept her head down; but here, she was in the open. The wide open.

The traffic was minimal and it was hard for her not to run across the street.

When they arrived at the other side, the woman she’d handed Grace to earlier opened the door.

“The baby’s is sleeping,” she said. “I put her on the couch in your office.”

Helen’s heart skipped a beat. Grace hadn’t rolled over yet, but could at any time, and fall off the sofa.

“Thank you, Miss Hobbs.” Jack held the door for her to walk out. “Good night.”

“Good night,” the woman said, shooting out the door.

“Where is your office?” Helen asked. “I need to check on Grace.”

He pointed at a door across the room. Helen hurried in that direction and then down a long hallway to an open door on the left.

Relief filled her as she entered the room and saw Grace sleeping on the sofa. There was a blanket rolled up beside her, so if she had rolled over, she wouldn’t have fallen off. Helen walked closer and laid a hand on the baby. It felt so good to touch her again. To see her. Being parted from her had been horrific—more than she could have ever expected.

Jack was in the doorway, staring at her. Helen’s throat thickened. No matter how much she’d missed Grace today, how much she loved her, she still had to do the right thing. Find Joe McCarney.

“She’s sleeping.” Helen had no idea why she said that aloud.

“I see that,” he said.

She nodded and then closed her eyes, willing for whatever strength there was inside her to reveal itself.

* * *

Jack experienced a bout of anger like never before. Not at her. At Joe. If this was Joe’s baby... What? What could he do about it? He didn’t have a clue as to where his brother might be.

He didn’t even know this woman’s name. Wasn’t sure he wanted to know. But, beneath her drab clothing, he saw how pretty she was, and that beauty would have attracted Joe’s attention.

His full attention.

“I—I know now that Gracie isn’t your child,” she said quietly. “And I apologize for just leaving her here, but she is your brother’s child. Joe’s. And this is the address that I had for him.”

There was no reason for his stomach to drop to his feet. That statement shouldn’t have surprised him. Joe had been giving this address out to women since he’d left. The bag of mail in the closet proved that.

“When did he give you this address?” Jack asked.

“He didn’t. If you have another address for him, I’d appreciate if you’d give it to me. I really need to find him. As soon as possible.”

The desperation in her voice was almost convincing. Of all the women who’d come begging for an audition, she might be the one who did have what it took to be an actress. Just his luck. “Then how did you get this address?” Another thought struck him. “Why didn’t he give it to you? If Joe really is the father to your baby?”

Her gaze fell to the floor. “Grace isn’t my baby.” She bit her lip and lifted those beautiful eyes back up to him. “Her mother was my friend, Vera. She passed away a few weeks ago. In Chicago.”

The pleading in those eyes unsettled him.

“Please, Mr. McCarney, if I can’t find Joe, Grace will be an orphan.”

The flop of his stomach was merited this time. Chicago. Last he heard, Joe was down in Florida, Miami, but he had been in Chicago a year ago. Working for the circus. Damn it, Joe!

Jack took a deep breath, and told himself that he still didn’t have enough information to believe this woman.

“Please, Mr. McCarney. All I’m asking is for you to tell me where I can find Joe. Grace needs her father. Her family. She has no one else.”

No matter how sincere this woman sounded, he had to be cautious. Joe could be anywhere and if he committed to the idea that Joe was the baby’s father, that would make him the baby’s uncle—a responsibility he didn’t need right now.

He pushed the heavy air out of his lungs. “Why should I believe anything you have to say?”

Something flashed in those unique blue eyes. He wasn’t exactly sure what, but suddenly felt a heavy burden stir deep within his chest. A familiar burden that felt too close to the sense of responsibility he’d felt almost his entire life.

“Because I’m telling the truth,” she said quietly. “I don’t want anything else from you. Just Joe’s whereabouts.”

Anger and frustration raced through him. He’d spent the last two years cleaning up messes his brother had left behind—wasn’t even half done—but wasn’t about to get pulled into another one of Joe’s problems. Not if he could help it. “I’d need proof.”

She tilted her head downward and looked over the rim of her glasses as she dug in her purse. “I have Vera and Joe’s wedding picture and marriage license, and I was there when Grace was born.”

He bit back a curse and told himself not to jump to conclusions. A wedding picture and marriage license. That would be proof all right. Or damaging evidence, depending on which way he wanted to look at this. Deep down, he knew she could be telling the truth. Women were drawn to Joe, and he to them. He’d almost married one or two in the past. Actually, three or four, until they’d figured out Joe wasn’t being faithful. That’s what had gotten him blackballed. Infidelity. That time it had been on the woman’s part, and her husband, another actor, hadn’t liked it in the least. Nor had the people they worked for.

“Would you like to see them?” she asked.

Frustration ate at his insides. He couldn’t have another scandal right now. This film meant too much. He’d worked so hard to get back to this point. The cusp of success. Self-made success.

He straightened his spine and rolled his shoulders back, telling himself not to get too caught up in this until he knew the truth. The entire truth. He had a film to make. One that would put Star’s Studio at the top of the charts. In theaters across the nation. He was so close, and had worked too hard keeping his reputation clean despite his brother’s shenanigans.

She was still standing near the sofa, with an envelope in her hand. He walked in that direction, but only as far as his desk, hating the fact that he was putting off the moment when she might just offer the proof of what she was saying. “What’s your name?”

There was a moment of hesitation in her eyes, on her face, but then with a soft sigh, she said, “Helen. Helen Hathaway.”

He leaned against his desk. “Well, Miss Hathaway...” He paused as another thought struck. “It is Miss, isn’t it? Or are you married?” He knew of more than one woman who’d left a husband behind to come to Hollywood. One had told him she’d left five children behind and needed an acting job in order to send money back home in order to feed them. The sad thing was, he’d known she’d been telling the truth.

“No. I mean yes. It’s Miss, I’m not married.”

Her stammering displayed her nervousness, so did her stance. It looked as if she was about to jump out of her shoes, or run for the door.

He nodded and then finished what he’d been about to say earlier. “The last I heard about Joe is that he’s in Florida.”

“Florida?” She turned and stared at the couch, at the baby sleeping there.

“Yes, Florida.”

“Oh, dear.”

He shot across the room as all color left her face. Not sure what to do, because she hadn’t fainted, but was swaying slightly, he asked, “Do you need to sit down?”

She nodded.

He took her arm, guided her a couple of steps backward and onto the opposite end of the couch from where the baby was sleeping.

Despair filled her eyes as she said, “Florida is so far away.”

It was, but he wasn’t concerned about that. “Do you need a drink of water?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you, I’m fine.”

She didn’t look fine to him. Not so much as a hint of color had returned to her cheeks. Something inside him, an instinct of sorts, said it wasn’t Florida that had sapped the life out of her.

“I’m going to get you that glass of water,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

Chapter Three

Jack kept one eye on her until he was at the doorway, then he hurried down the hallway to get a glass of water.

Secrecy was just one of the games played in Hollywood. It was played by almost everyone, and was also the one that no one wanted to get caught playing. For the most part, he’d never played that game himself. Hadn’t needed to.

He did recognize it though, and there was more to Helen Hathaway than she was letting on.

He could make some phone calls, see if he could locate Joe and question him about the woman’s accusations. But that was unnecessary. Would be futile, too. If Joe had married someone, and cared about her, or the baby, he wouldn’t need to be searched out.

On the other hand, if it wasn’t true, if this Helen Hathaway was looking for something else, Joe might know what that might be.

Jack clamped his back teeth together. He’d put nearly everything he had into this movie. Others had put up a good amount of money, too—not the Broadbents, real investors, and he was determined that not a hint of Joe’s name would be tied to this movie. Los Angeles was a big town and the movie industry was growing daily. In many ways. Good and bad. Corruption had already burrowed its way deep inside and studios were walking a fine line.

The powers that be who’d put themselves in charge of the industry wanted all of America to believe Hollywood was the pinnacle of this nation. Where dreams came true, streets were lined with gold, and beds made of rose petals.

It was all baloney. The billboards who put themselves in charge had more skeletons in their closets than those they were blackballing—like his brother. But that was the way it was, and would remain, until a few legitimate studios rose high enough to knock the big five off their pedestals.

And it would happen. Others were getting wise to the way the big companies had taken over theaters. Buying them up across the nation and monopolizing the movies that could be shown in “their” theaters. Only their movies. For every big hit, they forced the theaters to show dozens of their low-budget movies, controlling the payouts other films could make.

That was all about to turn around. Which is precisely what he was counting on happening. His new film could be the one that really changed things. It was a good script. With solid actors and a story line that would drive people into the theaters by the droves—theaters that would have the right to show whatever movies they chose. It was all lined up. If he made it with this film, finally he’d have secured his place in the movie industry. Finally he’d have the security he’d wanted for more years than he could count. And he’d have done it his way.

If nothing went astray.

An abandoned baby could cause that to happen. Cause trouble he couldn’t afford.

He got the water and headed back to his office.

She was still sitting on the couch, but now had one hand on the baby.

There was something about her that struck him deep inside. Had since he’d seen her unique blue eyes, and her nervousness made him curious to know exactly what she wanted, what she was hiding.

She glanced up and, as he’d seen her do several times, tilted her chin downward to look over the top of the glasses. Why would a woman wear a pair of glasses that she couldn’t see through? The glasses didn’t take away from her beauty, but they did disguise it slightly. So did her clothes. They were loose fitting and drab. Almost as if she didn’t want to stand out in any way. Here, in Hollywood, her getup did the exact opposite—they made her stand out like a sore thumb.

He carried the water across the room. “Feel better?”

“Yes, thank you.” The smile she offered was forced and she barely took a drink of the water before handing him back the glass.

He set the glass on a nearby table.

“Here.” She held up the envelope.

Jack took it, folded back the flap and pulled out a picture. It certainly was Joe smiling back at the camera. The woman beside him was surprising. There was nothing vibrant about her. She was cute, but, well, average. A dime a dozen. Certainly not the type that Joe had been drawn to his entire life.

And certainly not the woman sitting on the couch, either.

Jack tucked the picture back in the envelope and pulled out a folded piece of paper. It was a marriage license. The signature at the bottom was one he knew. Joe had spent hours practicing flamboyant ways to sign his name and had perfected one that he’d used for the last ten-plus years. Ever since both of them had played roles in the traveling shows their parents had forced them to perform in across the nation. Joe had loved it. He hadn’t.

Jack put the paper back in the envelope with the picture. “What proof do you have that the baby is this woman’s?”

Her glasses had slid down her nose, allowing her to gaze over the top of the rims without dipping her chin. “I was there when Grace was born.”

“So, you are friends with her?”

“I was. As I said, Vera died three weeks ago.” She glanced at the baby for a second, then back at him with a tenderness in her eyes. “That was her name Vera. Vera McCarney.”

He gave a slight nod of respect. It wasn’t his job to judge this woman, or the woman Joe had obviously married, but in the end, he was the jury, the only member, who would have to decide what to do about the situation at hand. In order to do that, he needed all the information he could get. “Had the two of you been longtime friends?”

Once again, she glanced at the baby before answering. “No. I met her a short time before Gracie was born.”

There was tenderness in her eyes and sadness. Refusing to let what he saw affect him, he walked over to his desk and set the envelope down. “Where?”

“In Chicago.”

“But you never met Joe?”

She shook her head.

He pointed to the envelope on his desk. “This may say that my brother married a woman named Vera Baker last year in Chicago, but it in no way provides any proof that that baby is either Vera’s or Joe’s.”

“I was there when she was born.”

“You’ve said that, but I still have doubts that she is my niece. The burden has been put upon you to provide me with the information that might lessen that doubt. Do you have any other information that can do that?”

Her shoulders rolled back as the deep breath she took filled her lungs. She held the air in. He waited, half expecting her to pop like the rubber balloons they used for props.

She didn’t pop. As the air slowly seeped out of her, her shoulders dropped. “Vera wrote to Joe, and this is where she sent the letters.”

That, he could prove wrong. He crossed the room, to the closet where he kept the gunnysack. Upon opening the door, he picked up the sack and then carried it to the couch. “This bag,” he said while setting it on the floor by her feet, “is full of letters to Joe at this address.”

Her eyes grew as wide as her glasses. “Oh, my.”

She could be shocked by the mail, or by the fact he too had proof. Proof she was lying. He opened the sack and pulled out a handful of letters. “You’re welcome to sift through them, find one from Vera.” He dropped the envelopes back in the bag. “If you truly believe there is one in here.”

“I do,” she said firmly. “I know there is more than one. I mailed several for Vera.”

A shiver tickled his spine at the possibility that she was telling the truth. The entire truth. Then what was she hiding? It had to do with Chicago. A veil had clouded her eyes, and she’d grown stoic both times she mentioned the town’s name. He contemplated that for a moment before asking. “Why didn’t Vera mail them herself?”

“She was too weak. Carrying Grace and then giving birth wore her down to skin and bones. She never recovered.” She was digging in the bag, pulling letter after letter out, and setting them aside after a quick glance. “She just kept getting weaker and weaker.”

He didn’t know this woman. For all he knew, she could have kidnapped that baby from someone. His stomach clenched, letting him know that no part of him believed that she was a kidnapper. Not even in the hidden corners of his subconscious. She was hiding something though. Those glasses were proof of that. They were a disguise, he just didn’t know for what. Flustered, he grabbed a handful of envelopes and sifted through them, looking at the return addresses. “Vera, you say?”

She nodded. “Vera McCarney.”

Before long, they were both sitting on the floor, with the bag between them, sifting through the stack of mail.

“Found another one,” she said, tossing an envelope toward at least a dozen other letters with the return address hosting Vera’s name.

His skepticism had disappeared after the first letter. Now he had more questions. What was he going to do about it? If he could locate Joe—and that was a big if—he knew his brother. Responsibility was foreign to Joe. Stardom could be to blame, or maybe life in general, the way they’d been raised, traveling from town to town.

Jack withheld the heavy sigh building inside him. He’d like to think differently, but highly doubted even a baby would make Joe change his ways. A child would never fit in Joe’s lifestyle.

A hard knot formed in Jack’s stomach. A baby wouldn’t fit in his life, either. Not even a niece. Not right now. He’d invested every spare cent in this movie. It had potential. The potential to put Star’s Studio in the running to be one of the top players. Doing so would take all of his efforts. All of his time.

He looked at the envelope in his hand for some time before setting it aside. It had been the last one. The bag was empty, and two piles sat before them, a large one, and a smaller one. Letters from Vera.

Helen sifted through those and picked one up. “I wrote this one,” she said. “Vera was too weak. It was the day before she died. I wrote exactly what she wanted me to. That I would bring Grace here, to this address. To Joe.”

He took the envelope but didn’t open it. Couldn’t. It wasn’t addressed to him. So that’s how it would remain. Unopened. The less he knew, the better off he was. Even in this situation.

As far as the mail went.

“How did you meet Vera?” He set the letter aside. “I’m assuming it was after she married Joe?”

“Yes.” Her gaze went to the baby.

“Where did you meet her?”

“In the alley behind the grocery store where I worked.”

At some point, she’d removed her glasses and he clearly saw the tears welling in her eyes. She blinked and twisted to discreetly wipe at them with one finger.

A part of him didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to think his brother would have left a woman destitute, but it certainly appeared that way. “What was she doing in the alley?”

“Looking for food.” She looked him straight in the eye, was utterly serious. “She was penniless. Had been kicked out of the place she’d been staying. She was so ill. Coughing.” She shook her head but didn’t attempt to hide the tears forming again. “I took her to my apartment. She was so weak she could barely walk up the steps. She got better. A little, in the weeks that followed, but then...”

Compassion filled him and he reached over, took ahold of her hand and squeezed it gently. “You did what you could.” He looked at the baby. Grace. His niece. “Most likely saved Grace’s life.”

She nodded and then removed her hand from beneath his and started filling the bag with the letters not from Vera. “Grace is a good baby. Has been from the moment she was born.”

Heaviness filled his lungs, his heart, at the idea of a woman searching for food.

If anyone knew what it was like to do that, search for food, to be hungry, it was them. Him and Joe. Nothing during the past ten years had chased away the feelings he’d known as a child. Of being hungry. So hungry the pain had been strong enough to make him cry. As he got older, those same pains made him angry. So angry he swore he’d never become an actor. Never traverse the countryside in a dilapidated wagon singing and doing comedy acts for pennies that never totaled enough to feed them for more than a week at best.

Yet, here he was. In the same business he’d always been in. Times had changed though. And he wasn’t acting. Never would act again. Joe had been the actor and had loved it. He’d found work as soon as they’d arrived in Los Angeles.

“Can you contact your brother. Tell him Grace is here?”

Jack didn’t look her way. Couldn’t right now. She wouldn’t like his answer. He didn’t like it, either.

He let out the air that had grown stagnant inside his lungs. “You’ve taken care of Grace since she was born?” He already knew the answer, but was trying to figure out his next steps. Steps that were completely foreign to him.

“Yes.”

“And paid to bring her here?”

“Yes.”

“What did your family think of that?” Another thought formed. “Or Vera’s family?”

There was that flash in her eyes again. A mixture of sadness and fear. “Neither of us have any family. Vera had worked for the circus. That’s how she got to Chicago. And she didn’t have any family to return to.”

Jack wanted to know about her. Helen. But a gut sense said she wouldn’t answer any questions about herself. He stood up and picked up the bag once again full of mail. “Is the circus how she met Joe?”

“Yes. He was a magician.”

Jack had already known that as well. Joe had perfected several magic tricks over the years, and had used them to land more than one job. After opening the closet, he set the bag inside. “Had he continued on with the circus? Left when it moved on?”

“No. Vera said they both stayed in Chicago. That Jack had gotten a job at one of the playhouses for a short time, but then had to return here and said he would send for her. That’s when he gave her this address and said she was to contact him here if she needed anything.”

Of course Joe did. That’s what he’d always done. Passed the buck.

Jack closed the door and stood there for a moment. The baby had started to fuss and Helen was scooping her off the couch. That baby was his niece. Joe’s baby, and as inadvertent as that may be, Grace was now his responsibility.

The mess with the Broadbents was nothing compared to this. What the hell was he going to do?

“I’ll pay you,” he said as the thought formed.

“Excuse me?”

It might not be the ultimate answer, but it would do for now. “I’ll pay you to continue to take care of Grace.”

She glanced at the baby, and then up at him. Sorrow filled her eyes as she sadly shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Why? You have been since she was born.”

“Because I promised Vera I’d bring her here. And I have.”

She had all right, and that could open a can of worms that could take him down. It would be all the Wagner brothers needed to convince the owners of the new theater to break his contract and go with them.

Right now, it was just the two of them, Julia and Miss Hobbs who knew about Grace. He had to keep it that way.

“Just until I find Joe.” Then he could send them to Florida, or to wherever Joe was. Let his brother take responsibility for his own actions this time.

She glanced down and the smile she provided the baby might very well be the most precious and beautiful smile he’d seen to date. But then, she closed her eyes and bit her lips together. When she lifted her lids, looked at him, tears had welled in her eyes again. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

Money. It had to be the money. Traveling here had probably taken all she’d had. He didn’t have much to spare himself, but he did have a bank account that he’d been depositing any royalties owed to Joe from past projects, knowing Joe would return some day and want it. Expect it.

He hadn’t used that money to pay the Broadbents because Joe had sold them shares in future projects, not past, but he would use Joe’s money for this, his daughter. And not feel guilty about it.

He had no idea what it cost to take care of a baby, so merely said, “Whatever it costs, I’ll pay you.”

She kissed the baby on the head. He let out a sigh of relief and pulled his billfold out of his pocket. To his shame, he had only a few dollars on him. Pulling them out, he said, “I’ll go to the bank and get more tomorrow.”

She laid the baby back down on the couch and picked up her purse. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. For Grace’s sake, I can’t.” Turning about, she started for the door.

“Wait! You can’t leave!” He started after her, but a crunch beneath his foot made him pause. Her glasses. He’d broken them. She was already out the door. “Wait!”

* * *

Tears once again blurred Helen’s vision. This time it wasn’t just heartache, there was anger inside her, too. Anger that her life would never be her own. No matter where she went. She couldn’t continue to put Grace in danger. That’s all there was to it.

A baby’s cry—Grace’s—made her feet stumble, but she forced herself to keep moving forward. Down the hall. In Chicago, after leaving her cousin’s house, she’d gone to the edge of the city, where she thought the lack of large businesses would make the mob not as prevalent. That hadn’t been true. The neighbor of Amery’s grocery store hadn’t been run by the Outfit. It had been a smaller mob, one that oversaw little more than the bootlegging of whiskey to the area speakeasies. But nonetheless, they’d been there. Mobsters in big fancy cars, their mugs on street corners.

It was there, late at night, looking out the windows of the grocery store that she’d concluded that there was no getting out. Not for her. Any one of those thugs could have been a stool pigeon for her uncle.

Grace was still crying, and Helen balled her hands into fists as she neared the door of the studio.

She’d created many disguises for herself over the past two years, everything from a young boy to an old woman, but hadn’t been able to carry much besides Grace all the way to the railroad station. Therefore, she’d left most everything behind. Other than the drab dresses, head scarves and her glasses.

Her glasses. She’d taken them off because it had been too hard to see the writing on the envelopes. Spinning about, she hurried back toward the hallway.

She told herself it was to get the glasses, that she had to have them, but the moment she stepped into the office door, she knew the real reason. Grace was still crying and Jack stood next to the couch. The bottle in one hand, a can of milk in the other.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he said, looking at her hopelessly.

Helen hurried forward. “You start by picking her up.” She did just that, and snuggled Grace close to comfort her. “Once she’s calmed down, you can see to what she needs, whether it’s a diaper change or a bottle.”

“How do you know the difference?” he asked.

She shrugged. “If her diaper is dry, you fix a bottle. If it’s wet, you change her.”

He shook his head. “I can’t do this. I can’t.” Holding up the can of milk, he added, “I don’t even have a can opener.”

“There is one in the bag,” Helen said, carefully laying Grace down on the couch. The baby was no longer crying but a diaper change was definitely in order. The bag and most of its former contents were spread out on the floor near her feet. After picking up a clean diaper, Helen asked, “Where is the powder room?”

“Next door down the hall, on the right.” He met her gaze. “Thank you for coming back. Thank you very much.”

Earlier, while sitting on the floor next to him, she’d caught herself staring at him. More than once. Couldn’t seem to help it. He was extremely handsome, with his blond hair that flopped over his forehead and his dark eyes.

He had the kind of handsomeness that made people stop in their tracks and take a second look. She’d heard about that more than seen it. In fact, she may never have seen it, and truly only heard about it from Vera. That’s how she’d described Joe McCarney. Stop-in-your-tracks handsome.

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, and bent down to pick up Grace. “We’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here.”

She found the powder room and as she saw to changing Grace, she couldn’t help but wonder who would see that the diaper was properly washed, or that the bottles and nipples were cleaned after each use, or all of the other things that needed to be done to see to the care of a baby. She hadn’t known any of those things in the beginning, but did now, and had cherished doing all of them.

It had been a long time since she’d had someone to love. Grace had filled that hole since the moment she’d been born. She’d told herself from the beginning that Grace wasn’t hers to love, that her only duty to the baby was to find her father.

She hadn’t done that.

She hadn’t fulfilled her promise to Vera. The promises she’d made to Grace.

Despite her fears, she couldn’t leave. She’d tried twice, and couldn’t do it. Giving Grace a hug, she whispered, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, no matter what, I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.”

She left the powder room with more resolve than she’d had in a long time. Jack was still in the office, had returned all of Grace’s items to the bag and had it sitting on his desk.

“Thank you,” he said again as soon as she entered.

The relief on his face was so evident she had to bite her lips to keep from smiling. There was no denying that the idea of staying with Grace a bit longer filled her with joy.

“I had no idea what to do,” he said. “She started crying as soon as you stepped out the door.”

“I heard. Your shouting probably scared her.”

He shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t know what to say. I’ve never been around a baby before.”

“I hadn’t, either,” she admitted. That had been frightening at first, but had quickly turned into joy. More joy than she’d known in a very long time.

“I’ll pay whatever you want, for you to take care of her until I can find Joe.”

Helen held her breath for a moment. Could she do it? Stay with Grace? “I came back for my glasses,” she said, needing a bit more time. She was nearly out of money, so wouldn’t get far, if she did leave.

“About those.” He glanced down at his desk. “I stepped on them by accident.”

She looked down, saw the crushed frames and broken glass.

“Why do you wear them? You don’t need them.”

“Yes, I do.” Not to see with, but to hide behind.

“I’ll buy you a new pair.”

It was almost as if the smashed glasses were a symbol, one that told her she couldn’t hide for the rest of her life. She already knew that, just hadn’t known how to get out. How to get far enough away that she wouldn’t have to hide. That had been her goal, why she’d saved every penny she could. Yet, until Grace, she hadn’t had the courage to leave.

That’s why she’d stayed put, in the little apartment above the grocery store, stocking shelves, scrubbing floors, reading newspapers every night, and wishing she could go outside, enjoy the sunshine, the rain, even the snow and wind, every day.

“Tomorrow. I’ll buy you a new pair, tomorrow.”

Helen pulled her eyes off the glasses. A new pair wouldn’t make a difference. Tomorrow would be no different from today. She took a moment to think back over the past few days. Traveling on the train she’d experienced a small amount of the freedom she’d sought the past two years. Before then in another sense. Guilt arose when she thought about that. How she’d wanted out when she should have been thankful her family had been alive and well.

She hadn’t been thankful about that, not enough, and today, she’d been so worried about herself, about getting away again, that she’d left Grace with someone who didn’t have the ability to care for her. Jack could learn. She had, but that wasn’t the issue. The true issue was whether she was really willing to let her past, her fears, have so much control over her that she was willing to let Grace suffer while Jack learned to take care of her. Is that who she was? Who she’d become?

If so, why hadn’t she left as soon as she’d handed Grace over? Ran back to the train station and used the last of her funds to buy a ticket that would have taken her as far away as possible?

“Do you need to return to Chicago immediately?”

“No.” Helen closed her eyes at how quickly she responded. Heaviness filled her as she opened her eyes and looked at Jack. She had no idea what to say, what to do. It was as if she was caught in a trap even stronger than the one she’d lived in the past few years.

Chapter Four

If Jack had been alone, he might have spewed an entire sentence of curse words, but he wasn’t alone. The woman standing before him was hiding something, and she was holding his niece. His niece. And he didn’t have a clue as to what to do about that. About either of them. He’d never been so out of his element as when Grace had started to cry. Nor had he ever been so relieved as when Helen had shown back up in the doorway.

He’d also never seen fear in someone’s eyes like what had appeared in hers when he’d asked if she had to return to Chicago.

Damn it to hell, this shouldn’t even be his problem. It should be Joe’s.

Which is precisely what made it his. And why it fit so well. Every time he was almost there, almost to the point where everything was good and right, Joe stepped in. It had been that way his entire life. So why should it change now?

Angry like he hadn’t been in some time, he spun around. Ran a hand through his hair, and tried to think. Nothing came to him, much like a few minutes ago, when Grace had been crying.

He huffed a breath of scalding air, full of anger toward Joe for once again leaving him with a mess to clean up, and then drew in another breath. His hands were tied, like they had been so many times before.

Unlike his brother, he’d always accepted that honesty was the best policy, so he turned around. “I have to be up front with you. I don’t have a clue how to take care of a baby, nor do I have a clue where Joe is. Last I heard it was Florida, and I will call some connections I have there, see if they’ve heard from him, know where he is, but it could be days, weeks, before I learn about his whereabouts.”

She didn’t make a move, or say a word, other than to glance down at the baby in her arms.

Frustration had his nerve endings tingling. “And there’s more. I have a movie to make. The actors have been hired, the sets have been built, the script’s written. We start filming in the morning. I have two months, eight weeks from start to finish, to get it filmed, edited and ready to show. If that doesn’t happen, I’ll have to lock the doors of the studio permanently.” He’d never admitted that realization, not even to himself, but it was the truth. The movies he’d made the last couple of years had been small-budget productions, and the minimum runs they’d been given in theaters had barely been enough to pay the salaries of his crew and the actors, especially once the Broadbents had been given payments toward Joe’s debt.

Her gaze was on him, and remained there as she nodded.

At a loss, he let out a sigh. “I know that’s not your problem. That none of this is your problem.” He wished it wasn’t his problem, either, but it was. That little girl in her arms was his niece and like it or not, he couldn’t turn his back on her. “But I don’t know what to do, other than to ask you what it will take for you to agree to continue to care for Grace for the next eight weeks?”

“Eight weeks?”

The fear in her eyes returned full force. He didn’t want yet another issue, but couldn’t deny that it was his only option to deal with it. Whatever it was. “You have to level with me, doll. Tell me what’s really going on. Why you’re acting like some moll on the lam.”

Her head snapped back as if she’d been struck a blow on the chin. “I’m not a moll, and I’m not your doll, either.”

There was fire in her eyes, which was surprising considering how meek she’d been a moment ago. He hadn’t meant she was a gangster’s gal, or his doll, but that really had struck a nerve with her. Which he was going to take advantage of now that he had her full attention. “Then what are you?”

A frown filled her face, but not her eyes, they were still snapping.

“Why are you hiding and what are you running from?” he added.

She stood stock-still for so long he wondered if she was going to answer. When she did finally move, it was to lift the baby in her arms up against one shoulder and pat Grace’s small back. He held his silence. Watching her movements. Once again, the idea of filming her entered his mind. He had to push it away, which wasn’t easy. Her movements were elegant, smooth. Graceful. It was her thoughtfulness, that really held his attention. How she was contemplating her next move. The audience would see that too, and wonder, just as he was, what she was about to say.

“I came here fully expecting to give Grace to her father, that he’d know how to take care of her.”

“And then?” he asked.

She shook her head.

He could tell she was being honest, and honesty brought honesty. “I haven’t talked to my brother in over two years, but would doubt he’d know any more about taking care of a baby than I do.”

“Why haven’t you talked to him in two years?”

He was tired of standing, and figured she was too, so waved at the sofa, silently inviting her to sit down.

She watched him cautiously as she crossed the room and then perched herself on the edge of the cushion, almost as if prepared to jump up and run for the door all over again.

He sat in the chair next to the sofa, but it wasn’t standing that he was tired of, it was this—another obstacle. “I haven’t talked to Joe in two years because he was blackballed from acting in Hollywood and left the state. I tried to smooth things over, but...” He shook his head. There hadn’t been anything he could do. No one had wanted to hear him defend his brother. He’d told Joe that, and that he wasn’t going to lose his standings for Joe’s mistakes. Not again. That’s when Joe had sold out to the Broadbents and left town.

“What had he done to become blackballed?”

“Misconduct.” He shrugged. In truth, Joe’s actions had been no different than half the men in Hollywood, more maybe, he was just the one unlucky enough to get tangled up with the wrong doll. The movie industry wanted the world to believe they had standards and every once in a while, they pulled out a stool pigeon to prove a point. That had been Joe. Jack understood all this, but that didn’t mean he condoned Joe’s actions. Fooling around with a married woman was wrong and one married to a topliner was downright reckless. He shook his head. “Joe had been a good actor, had become popular, and he’d let that popularity go to his head.”

She frowned. “Will he be back? To Hollywood?”

“I honestly don’t know, but I doubt it.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, she glanced down at Grace. “Not even for his daughter?”

Jack didn’t know. Long ago he’d stopped trying to figure out his brother. There were times Joe had been there when he’d needed him. When they’d been in their teens and their parents had died. Joe had gotten them to California and then taken on any and all menial jobs he could get, while insisting Jack go to school. Filmmaking was new and raw then, and Joe hung in there when others hadn’t and finally worked his way into acting. The money he’d made then had not only kept them both in food and clothes, it had funded the start of Star’s Studio.

Although he hadn’t wanted that in the beginning—he’d wanted to try something completely different from what he’d always known—he’d stuck with it because Joe had wanted it.

They’d made money, more than they would have elsewhere, and he owed his brother for that. For all he had, and always would. He’d never forgotten that, either. Nor would.

“I won’t know that until I talk to him.” He’d make some calls in the morning, to a couple of the film companies that were popping up down in Florida. He’d heard through the grapevine that Joe had been down there, looking for work a few months ago. Trouble was, Joe might not call him back. They’d been at crossroads when Joe had left, and nothing had happened to resolve that.

“I have no idea when that might be,” he admitted. “But, I can promise, that if you give me eight weeks, enough time to get this movie made and into theaters, I’ll then take over full responsibility for Grace. I’ll pay for all of her needs starting right now. I just need you to take care of her.”

“Eight weeks...”

The tremors in her voice shifted his train of thought. He knew actors. There were people who could instantly step into a role, become a character completely, then there were others, that no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t act. Couldn’t pretend to be anyone other than themselves.

He’d put her in that second category. She also couldn’t hide something else. She was scared. Beyond scared. Her hands were trembling and she kept glancing at Grace, almost as if the baby might pop up and fly away like some little bird.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.

She looked away while gnawing on her bottom lip. Even her arms were trembling. So was her chin.

“What’s preventing you from accepting my offer?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

His hope rose. “Nothing?”

She shook her head. “Everything.”

Huffing out a breath, he asked, “Which is it? Nothing or everything?” Maybe all of his imagining her on the big screen was because she could act. Or lie. Had been lying all along. “Is Grace not who you say she is? Is she your baby and you made all this up about Vera and Joe?”

“No.” Her shoulders squared as she leveled a glare on him. “Everything I have told you about Grace and Vera is true. The letters say as much.”

He didn’t need to read the letters. He knew she wasn’t lying. He was just stuck between a rock and a hard spot. “I’m sorry. I do believe you.” Standing, he rubbed at the tension in the back of his neck. “There is one other thing that I haven’t mentioned yet. Another reason I need you to care for Grace.”

“What is it?”

“Right now, while I’m making this movie and getting it out to the public, I can’t have word spread that I’ve taken in Joe’s abandoned baby. This is Hollywood. The rules change daily. That could be enough to have me blackballed for still associating with my brother.” His own words sickened him. “I know that sounds selfish, but it’s the truth. I can’t argue for it or against it, it’s just what it is right now.”

“So you want me to pretend like Grace is my baby?”

He didn’t want to face her, but did. “I want you to go on taking care of her, not saying anything, one way or the other.” He wasn’t proud of this, but he had to think of his future, of what this movie meant, perhaps even more now than ever. He had Grace to think about. Her future.

Chapter Five

Helen couldn’t move, not even breathe. Her entire life had been full of not saying a word one way or the other. And she’d been pretending Grace was her baby. Right down to her heart. Right from the beginning.

Then her heart began to pound, her mind spun, but it wasn’t all because of her, or Grace. It was because of him. She could relate to his predicament. She didn’t know anything about making a movie, had only seen a couple in her entire life, but she could relate to being put in a situation without any control or any way out. He wasn’t seeking a way out, just some time to get things in order, so he could take care of Grace.

“You and Grace can stay at my apartment,” he said. “I’ll pay for everything. Milk, food, clothes.”

Could she do it? Take care of Grace for another eight weeks? That part would be easy. No different from what she had already been doing. Others had helped her during her desperation, despite the dangers that may have put them in. Especially Mr. and Mrs. Amery. They’d let her live above their grocery store, brought in a doctor for Vera.

Maybe this was her chance. A chance to see if she had gotten far enough away. The thrill that stirred in her stomach surprised her, as did how fast she made up her mind. “That won’t be necessary. Julia said Grace and I could stay with her.”

The look of surprise on his face made her lips tremble. They wanted to smile. She wanted to smile.

A twinkle sparked in his eyes and a dimple formed in one of his cheeks as a grin formed. “You mean you’ll help me?”

“Yes. I’ll stay. Take care of Grace for eight weeks.”

He grimaced slightly. “Maybe nine? Depending on how filming goes?”

Her smile broke free, but she was able to contain the rest of the emotions fluttering in her stomach. “We’ll see. I can’t promise how long Julia will need a dishwasher.”

He frowned. “A dishwasher?”

“Yes, she offered room and board in exchange for washing dishes.” Julia had said the deal still stood, and Helen sincerely hoped it would last for at least eight weeks.

“How will you be able to take care of Grace while washing dishes?”

“I’ll manage just fine.” Now that her mind was made up, she was anxious to get settled. An excited anxious, which hadn’t happened in some time. Securing her hold on Grace, Helen stood. “This little girl will need to eat soon.”

“I found the can opener,” he said while walking toward his desk. “But wasn’t sure if I should open the milk or not.”

“I’ll feed her at Julia’s and get her settled in for the night.”

He glanced at his watch. “The diner is already closed for the night. I’ll walk you over to the house.” He picked up the bag and nodded toward the door.

The diner was only across the street, yet she didn’t protest his offer.

He shut off the office light and walked beside her down the long hallway. “We start filming first thing in the morning, but I’ll make time to get to the bank.”

Money was a necessity, she’d understood that for years. It was that it was earned fairly that she was concerned about. “I won’t accept money from you for taking care of Grace, but I will accept a case of canned milk for her, and more when that’s gone. That’s all we’ll need.”

He looked at her quizzically, but didn’t respond as they crossed the front room of the studio. At the door, he opened it, waited for her to step outside and then shut off the light. He also locked the door after closing it.

She didn’t know what time it was, but darkness had settled, the street quiet. So quiet it echoed in her ears.

A moment later, her steps faltered as a shiver rippled her spine. “What was that?” she asked, referring to a strange sound. Like a yip and then faint howl from a dog.

“Haven’t you ever heard a coyote before?”

She tightened her hold on Grace. “No. Never.” The sound came again, and it was unnerving.

“Don’t they have coyotes in Illinois?”

“Possibly, but not in Chicago.”

“You lived there your entire life?”

“Yes.”

“And never left the city?”

“No.”

He took her elbow and stepped into the street. “Well, Los Angeles isn’t as big as Chicago, yet. It’s growing though, every day more land surrounding the city is bought up and developed. That growth is invading on the coyotes’ and other critters’ native hunting grounds.”

Another shiver rippled through her. “Native hunting grounds?”

“Yes.”

That sounded so primitive, and made her wary. “You’re just saying that to scare me.”

He frowned. “Why would I do that? I have no reason to try and scare you. This area has always had coyotes. It was cropland and orchards at one time. Julia still has a large plot of land behind her place that grows produce. The crops bring in the rabbits and the rabbits bring in the coyotes.”

That made sense, but didn’t make her feel any more comfortable. Neither did the darkness. She’d never been overly brave when it came to that. Junior had always called her a scaredy-cat because she’d refused to go anywhere in the dark alone. She’d overcome some of that, but those yipping sounds were enough to make a grown man quiver.

Not Jack though. He didn’t appear nervous at all.

He was tall, much taller than her, and broader. His white shirt showed the thickness of his arm muscles, and that did provide her a small sense of comfort. “Do they attack people?”

“Coyotes?”

“Yes.”

“No, they are more afraid of you than you are of them.”

She doubted a coyote, or any other animal could ever feel the same amount of fear toward her as she did toward them. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

They stepped up on the curb in front of the diner and then walked along the front of the building. There were no streetlights here, no light except for the moon, which wasn’t nearly as bright as she wished it could be. “How? How do you know that?”

“Because unlike humans, animals are smart. They won’t attack anything bigger than themselves.”

“Unless cornered,” she said, recalling she’d been told that at some time. “What if we corner one?”

“We won’t corner one. Coyotes are smarter than that.”

That didn’t satisfy her. “How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve seen plenty. They sneak into the back filming lot all the time, but as soon as they see a person, they run.” He led her around the corner of the diner building.

It was even darker back here, and she shivered again, held Grace tighter. There was a cluster of trees between them and Julia’s house, she could make that much out, and she wasn’t looking forward to walking on the little pathway that led through the trees.

The trail narrowed and she had to either step behind or in front of him.

He paused.

She nearly stumbled.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

She denied the truth. “I’m not scared, I just like being prepared.” That said, she came up with a plan. “We’ll need to run if we see a coyote and I’m not sure of the way.”

He chuckled. “Do you have any idea how fast a coyote can run?”

“No. Do you?”

“Yes. Faster than both of us put together.” He tugged on her arm and started walking again. “You really are a city girl.”

She hung close to his side, and chose not to reply. She might be a city girl, but also had good reason to be afraid of the dark. Chicago might not have had coyotes, but it had all sorts of things that could attack you late at night.

In the dark.

Like this.

“Don’t fret, we’re almost there.”

She forced her feet to keep moving as they grew closer and closer to the cluster of trees.

* * *

Jack bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He might never have seen someone as scared as she was right now. Someone who’d never heard the sound before could be scared by a coyote’s howl. There was an eeriness to it like no other. But it was also easy to get used to. He remembered falling to sleep to the sound. It had been a long way between towns while his parents had been acting in playhouses across the center of the nation. During good years, they’d traveled by trains. Not so good years, it had been a wagon and horse. Once it had been a mule, one that had been too stubborn to move most of the time.

He and Joe had spent hours pulling that stupid critter forward, and had slept a lot of nights beneath that wagon. Remembering listening to coyotes was a good memory. That meant it hadn’t been raining or snowing. There had been nights he’d probably have frozen to death if Joe hadn’t snuggled up against him. Kept him warm.

A walk down memory lane wasn’t what he needed right now.

“So,” he started, looking for something else to focus on. “You lived in Chicago your entire life, but don’t have any family there?”

“No. None.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything because concern tickled his spine. He should be able to see lights on at Julia’s house. It was just on the other side of the grove of trees.

Side by side, they stepped through the trees, and he surveyed the house. The dark house. “Julia must have already gone to bed.”

“Is it that late?” Her voice quivered slightly.

“No, actually, her car is gone,” he answered, nodding toward where it was usually parked. “She must have had somewhere to go tonight.”

“Maybe someone borrowed her car,” she said hopefully.

“Let’s go see,” he said, stepping forward.

A few minutes later, Jack wasn’t sure if he was happy or not. No one answered the door and the place was locked tight. He couldn’t leave them here, not without Julia home, and Grace was getting fussy. Hungry. Wet. Both maybe. He didn’t know.

He had offered to take them to his apartment, and would, if necessary, but he wasn’t so sure that was a good idea.

Grace let out a solid wail.

Helen talked softly to the baby, but her fussiness continued. Not an all-out cry like before, but it sounded like that’s what she was working up to.

Good idea or not, he didn’t have a choice. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“To my apartment.”

“But—”

“Julia’s not home, and Grace is hungry, or wet or something.” He took hold of Helen’s elbow again and turned her back toward the trail that led through the grove of trees. “I’ll give you a ride back here in the morning.”

This time she was too busy dealing with Grace to worry about coyotes. He led her all the way to his car in the studio’s parking lot, and held the door open while she climbed in, trying her best to hush the fussy baby.

“It’s not far,” he said, dropping the bag in the backseat before closing the door and walking around to the driver’s side.

The three miles to the apartment went quickly, in some ways. To Grace, it appeared, it was way too long. She was crying in earnest by the time he parked the car.

“She’ll quiet down as soon as she’s fed,” Helen said, as if apologizing.

Like before, the sound of Gracie’s sobs did something to his heart. Though his niece would never remember this night, she was far too young, he could remember being hungry. It was a miserable feeling.

“This way,” he said, grabbing the bag out of the backseat as soon as Helen had climbed out. “Through that door and up the stairs.”

There was a total of sixteen apartments in the building. His was on the second of four floors. Solidly built of bricks, the walls were thick so he wasn’t overly concerned that Grace’s crying would disturb anyone. If it did, too bad.

Helen talked quietly to the baby, telling her everything would be all right very soon, as they hurried to the building and up the stairs. He unlocked the door and let them in, then hit the light switch, kicked the door shut and set the bag on the table near the door so he could open it all at the same time.

He found the bottle, milk and can opener. Unsure what to do, he set them on the little table. “Here, I’ll take her. The kitchen is straight ahead. You get the bottle ready.”

“Thank you,” Helen said. “I’ll hurry. I’ve rarely heard her cry like this.”

The moment he took Grace and placed her up against his chest, she stopped crying. Her little body shook slightly from the remnants of her sobs, but as her eyes met his, her little petal-shaped lips formed a smile.

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