The Great Baby Caper (9 page)

Back
to Contents

“Courtney, please reconsider and
come back with me to Denver.”

Two days later, Courtney sat
across from her dear friend Vanessa Fox, who had just spent the weekend
visiting with her here in Detroit. In her mid-sixties, silver-haired, slender,
and quite beautiful, Vanessa was dressed in an impeccable green linen suit. The
two women were having a quick dinner at an Italian restaurant before Courtney
took Vanessa to the airport for her flight home to Denver.

“Vanessa, you know it’s been great
having you here, but I can’t live in Denver anymore.”

“No? You still have your
apartment, and most of your things, there.”

“True. But I’ll find a permanent
place and move everything else up after my lease expires.”

“Sure you will.”

“Vanessa, I can’t return,” she
reiterated, “not with M. Billingham there, not to mention his grandson.
Following the fiasco in New Orleans, Mark drove me crazy with phone calls,
flowers, you name it. He might still be in the States for all I know.”

“So just want to keep hiding out
and be left alone.” Vanessa was frowning thoughtfully as she took a sip of hot
tea.

“Exactly.”

Vanessa smiled cynically. “Sorry
to be blunt, dear, but do you think that’s why you spent the night with him in
the first place?”

Courtney sighed. She kept no secrets
from Vanessa. She’d first met her friend four years ago when she’d been hired
on at Bootle’s Baby Bower. Vanessa’s husband had been senior vice president in
charge of profit and loss, and both had been members of the board. From the day
the two women had met at a corporate dinner party, Courtney had found Vanessa
spunky, outspoken, charming, kind-hearted—and brilliant. Vanessa possessed both
a highly creative and a practical brain, a rare combination. She was as adept
at computers and complex mathematics as she was at fashion design.

Most importantly, Vanessa had
always approved of Courtney’s career aspirations, becoming in many ways the
mentor Courtney had never quite found in her own parents. She’d become
something of a second mother to Courtney. Even after her husband Floyd had died
of a heart attack two years ago, and Vanessa had left the board, the two women
had remained fast friends.

Vanessa knew Courtney had spent
the night with Mark—indeed, she was the only one among Courtney’s circle of
friends and family who did know. Only, why was Vanessa trying to second-guess
her motives?

“Why do you keep bringing up that
I spent the night with Mark?” she challenged. “I thought you were convinced I’d
made the right decision in ending it. And haven’t you always argued that a
woman my age must put her career first?”

Vanessa’s expression grew pensive.
“Yes, but perhaps I’m judging you on my own terms, and that may not be fair to
you. Not all women are not cut from same cloth, you know.”

“But you and I are a lot alike,”
Courtney countered. “That’s why we became friends.”

“We’re also from different
generations.”

“Baloney,” Courtney laughed.
“You’re more twenty-first century than I am. How many times have you helped me
out when my computer crashed?”

Vanessa chuckled. “When I
graduated from college magna cum laude back in the late 60’s, with a double
major in fashion design and accounting, I was considered to be one of the most
promising potential female executives in this country. I had three job offers
from major manufacturers in Chicago and New York, something unheard of for a
woman of that era. Then I met Floyd, foolishly got swept off my feet, and
became pregnant in short order.” She paused to clear her throat.

Feeling a stab of unease, Courtney
flashed her friend a demure look, then took a bite of her salad.

“I was, of course, expected to
give up my career aspirations in favor of being Floyd’s wife and raising his
children. In our early years, I took in other peoples’ taxes and bookkeeping just
to help out. But I never really knew what it might have been like to fly my own
kite—especially in fashion design.”

Courtney frowned. “But you loved
Floyd, didn’t you?”

A wistful look came over Vanessa’s
pretty face. “I was extremely fond of him, and I wouldn’t trade our four
children and eight grandchildren for all the tea in China.”

“But it’s like the poem about the
road less traveled,” Courtney continued thoughtfully. “Do you regret having
taken the path you took?”

Vanessa fell pensively silent. “That’s
a difficult question to answer. My identity became that of wife and mother. I
felt I never fully evolved into a person in my own right.”

“Vanessa Fox, Fashion Designer.”

“Something like that. I did get a
taste of the business world when Floyd joined Bootle’s Baby Bower ten years
ago, and suggested I fill a vacancy on the board.”

“That was very sensitive of him.
He knew there was something missing in your life.”

Vanessa nodded. “Indeed, I do feel
I made a contribution there. That old rat Ham Bootle even used my drawings to
launch the ‘Bootle Baby Layette’ collection.”

“Designs on which you still
collect royalties to this day,” Courtney pointed out proudly. “I’m also aware
that you were the true genius behind Floyd’s suggestions to revamp our
accounting procedures—ideas that saved the corporation thousands.”

“Our work together allowed Floyd
and me to share something as a couple.” Vanessa blinked at a tear. “You know, I
still miss him. Of course, after he was gone, there was no point in staying on
the board and battling it out with old Ham Bootle.”

“I do wish you had stuck it out a
little longer,” Courtney remarked with regret. “You know I was on your side,
and tried to intervene with Mr. Bootle.”

“Yes, my girl, and had we both
persisted, it would have cost you your job.”

“Perhaps so. But I would have
tried.”

“I know. At any rate, I do despise
the old coot, so it’s probably just as well that I left. He certainly put Floyd
through the wringer enough with his demands and tirades. In fact, I hold him
partially responsible for the stress that contributed to Floyd’s massive
coronary. Even after Floyd’s first attack, Ham never let up on him.” She
brightened. “But enough about me. Getting back to you, and Mark Billingham—”

“There is no me and Mark
Billingham,” Courtney interjected.

Vanessa regarded Courtney wisely.
“I’m not so sure. You’re not the type to indulge in one-night-stands,
Courtney.”

“Tell me about it.”

“In fact, since I’ve known you,
this is the first time you’ve ever been seriously involved with any man.”

“I’m not sure how serious an
overnight fling is.”

“You might not want to think about
this, but I have a feeling that young man means a great deal more to you than
you’re willing to admit—even to yourself.”

Courtney bit her lip. As usual,
Vanessa’s insights were right on target. “So you’re saying I should give up all
my aspirations in favor of becoming Mark’s wife?”

“I’m saying, first of all, that we
live in a different age, my dear. Today women can have it all.”

“You can say that after the way M.
Billingham treated me?”

“But he offered to make you his
successor as CEO.”

“
If
I’d marry his
grandson.”

“So?” Vanessa’s expression was
unrepentant. “The boy is handsome and charming, is he not? From what you’ve
told me, he can’t be nearly as obnoxious as the old man.”

“Vanessa!” Courtney cried. “Are
you actually suggesting I should cave in? For the world’s first liberated
woman, that is heresy.”

Chuckling, Vanessa held up a
slender hand. “I’m saying that, unlike me, Courtney, you’ve been offered the
brass ring. Why not grab it? Is it pride?”

“You can’t be serious,” Courtney
burst out. “How could I possibly go back to Mark, doubting him as I do,
mistrusting him, wondering, perhaps for the rest of my life, if he really cares
for me, or simply conspired with his grandfather to please the old coot and
force my hand?”

“Didn’t he deny this numerous
times—and also rise to your defense?”

“What else could he have done
under the circumstances?”

“So what if he’s guilty as sin?
Hasn’t mankind been conspiring against womankind ever since time immemorial?”
Vanessa winked. “You know, my dear, sometimes it can be fun to lose.”

“You’re stunning me,” Courtney
muttered.

Vanessa only grinned. “You always
knew I was deeply practical, didn’t you, my girl?”

“Well, yes, but—”

Vanessa patted Courtney’s hand. “I
want to see you on top of the world. I want you to be CEO and President of
Bootle’s Baby Bower. I want to watch you toss M. Billingham Bootle on the
garbage heap like the relic he is. So I say, take what they offer you—marry the
boy. You can whip his cute little British behind into line, and beat Ham Bootle
at his own game.”

Courtney was incredulous.
“Vanessa, I’ve known you for years but never realized . . . You are a monster!”

“You’ve only now figured that
out?” she quipped back with a wink.

“This isn’t war, you know.”

“Isn’t it? Wouldn’t the best
revenge of all be to take Ham Bootle and his grandson for everything they’re
worth?”

Shaking her head, Courtney
consulted her watch. “We must get you to the airport.”

“Hogwash. We’ve plenty of time.
You’re just avoiding the issue.”

“You bet I am.” Courtney motioned
for the waiter. “And we don’t have nearly as much time as you think. It’s a
real hike to the airport, especially at this time of day, then getting you
through security, and—”

Vanessa placed her hand on
Courtney’s. “For the last time, please come back with me to Denver.”

“I can’t,” Courtney replied
heavily.

“What are you accomplishing here,
working for that casino?”

Courtney bit her lower lip. “I’m
helping to bring new prosperity to Detroit. Besides, my work is in retail
liaison, not the casino itself.”

Vanessa harrumphed. “Same
difference. Besides, I’m convinced you’re working for the mob.”

Glancing about worriedly, Courtney
whispered, “I am not! And I’m tired of hearing that all casinos are run by the
mafia. I’m working for legitimate businessmen—”

“That’s what they all say,”
Vanessa cut in with an air of superiority. “‘I’m just a poor little
businessman.’ Right before they’re sentenced to twenty years at Leavenworth.”

“Vanessa, really,” Courtney
scolded. “Our marketing campaign for the new downtown casino revolves around a
focus on the family. A big reason they wanted me as retail liaison was my
background at Bootle’s Baby Bower. That way, the shopping court can be planned
with families in mind. Why, I even talked my bosses into having a day care
center at the casino as a good public relations vehicle—”

“All to better fleece the parents
of the little darlings.”

“Vanessa, that’s not fair.”

“It is fair. At least Bootle’s Baby Bower provides a service to the public through hosting parenting and other
classes. But these casino potentates are only robbing the public, whether they
dress up their operations with trendy shopping courts or not.”

“This project will help with urban
renewal—”

“Courtney, you’re living in a city
blighted by bankruptcy—”

“Detroit has its finer aspects—”

“Never mind the Ford Museum and Grosse Point. One more casino hardly constitutes ‘urban renewal.’ You belong
back in Denver, my girl.”

The waiter walked up then, and
Courtney tossed him a credit card before Vanessa could protest. “Look, no more
arguing. We’re going to miss your plane.”

***

Later, driving to her corporate
apartment after dropping Vanessa off at the airport, Courtney couldn’t get
their conversation out of her mind. She realized Vanessa was right. She didn’t
belong here in Detroit. Yes, she had jumped at the chance to double her salary
by accepting a high-powered job with a new casino coming to town, lining up the
vendors and tenants who would occupy the shopping court of the massive new
complex. The offer had represented a quick way to get her out of Denver and back on her feet elsewhere. As Vanessa had pointed out, she’d fled town so fast
that she hadn’t even packed up her apartment.

Thankfully, so far, her role here
had been behind the scenes and Mark hadn’t been able to find her, although she
was certain he had tried, and thus she took no chances. She kept in touch with
her parents and siblings only through a burner cell, and only Vanessa knew of
her exact address here in Detroit. So far, the two women had been quite
circumspect.

But Vanessa had also made some
valid points at dinner. The more Courtney learned about her new job, the more
uneasy she felt. Now she realized that Vanessa was probably right. Casinos
might be glitzy and alluring, but their bright lights tended to seduce
precisely the wrong people—hard-working types who couldn’t afford to be
gambling in the first place. For all the high-sounding rhetoric about “family
orientation,” she was beginning to feel that she and her bosses were promoting
all the wrong values.

And she missed her job at Bootle’s Baby Bower. As much as she hated to admit it, she also missed Mark. Was Vanessa
right that she was hung up on her pride, that she should simply take all Mark
and his grandfather offered? Was living well the best revenge, as Vanessa had
seemed to argue?

Courtney was worried about
something else, too, a matter that had nagged her endlessly for some weeks. It
wasn’t just the expected feelings of uneasiness over all the changes in her
life. No, it was real physical nausea, appearing at the most suspicious times.
An obsessive need for sleep, and a body that tingled in odd places.

She remembered Vanessa’s pointed
look at dinner. Did her friend already suspect the truth that Courtney had been
avoiding?