Cheyenne is up. Lets go.
Tara led Chelsea upstairs to her daughters bedroom, where eleven-month-old Cheyenne was standing in her crib with her nanny close by.
I already changed her, maam, the nanny said.
Thank you, Aisah. Tara took the baby into her arms. Were going to stay here with her for a while. Ill let you know when were done.
The nanny left, and Tara passed Cheyenne to Chelsea, who kissed her cheek and inhaled her sweet baby scent.
Ohhh, Chelsea said, can I take her back to Denver with me?
Tara smiled as her friend coddled and cooed away. Ever since Tara had become pregnant with Cheyenne, her only child so far, Chelsea confided her desperation to have a baby. She couldnt have children. Her one marriage had ended badly, and now at forty-nine, Chelsea yearned to be a mother. After much consideration she had decided to use a surrogate through an agency.
How is it going? You sounded worried when you called. Tara said.
Thereve been delays.
Are you having second thoughts about the agency?
Frustration.
But you had your lawyers check them out.
Yes, Howard did some due diligence for me. The agency had a good reputation. Remember, I told you that Isabel Hardwick had heard about them and assured me that they had a good record of coming through because they have a worldwide network.
But the delays worry you?
Yes. Hedda Knight, the lawyer who runs the agency in Chicago, had cautioned me that once in a while a surrogate has second thoughts.
You still havent met yours?
No, the agency is somewhat unique that way. Thats their policy. I offered to take care of all her needs, everything, but the agency said it took care of those matters. Ive seen pictures of the mother and the donor father, their files. I dont know where theyre from, but their health is perfect. Theyre gorgeous young people. She was due to deliver a baby boy, my son. Chelseas voice cracked, her eyes suddenly filled with tears. Sorry.
Its okay, sweetie. Tara passed her a tissue.
Thanks. She was supposed to deliver a few weeks ago, and now things are uncertain.
Did you consider going to another agency?
Yes, but the waits are long.
Why not find your own surrogate and take care of it yourself?
I was considering that, but itll mean waiting another year when I still dont know whats really holding up my case.
Did you consider legal action?
Yes, but I dont want to scare the mother off. I just want my son.
What do you think is really going on?
I dont know. I think shes having second thoughts.
Could the agency be holding out for a client willing to pay more?
That would be illegal. I mean, Howard hinted there were a lot of gray areas, but I dont care. I just want a child, you know?
I do, Chelsea.
After giving the situation some thought, Tara said, Offer the agency more money, a gift, a bonuscall it whatever, but offer her more. And remind this Hedda Knight of what you told me earlier about helping her with other clients.
As Chelsea weighed the suggestion, Tara continued. That way if Heddas holding out for more, or if the surrogate is having second thoughts, youll remain in play. And, you can hint, without giving the name, about Sula Bartholomew. Do you know her? Her family owns the potato chip company?
Yes.
Sula is looking to go with a surrogate, and shes put it out there that shell go into seven figures. You lay that all out for Hedda and see what happens.
36
Chicago, Illinois
Krystal wore a little too much makeup.
That was to be expected of a twenty-two-year-old cosmetician who worked at a mall in Indianapolis, Hedda Knight thought.
She had agreed to meet Krystal at a downtown Chicago coffee shop after shed responded to one of Heddas online ads.
Krystal was so intensely serious about becoming a surrogate because she needed to boost her savings. Her boyfriend, Dack, had dumped her. She was going to move to L.A. to study acting. A psychic-a real one-told her she was destined to be famous.
I was awesome in Pygmalionmy high school drama class staged it, Krystal said. One last question-what happens to the baby if the parents change their minds? Like, do I have to keep it?
That never happens. We have long lists of parents. So no, you wouldnt have to keep it.
Krystal bit her lip. Shed been taking notes in a small pad. Sunlight glinted off of her neon-metallic nails as she doodled while pondering. Hedda made an obvious display of checking the time on her phone, signaling an end to their meeting.
Its really sixty thousand? Krystal asked.
If all goes smoothly, and it usually does, then yes, that is the amount you receive. Now, youll have to excuse me. Hedda collected her things. I have to go. It was nice meeting you, Krystal. Think it over and contact me if you have more questions.
Outside, Hedda ended any further thought of Krystal.
These days she rarely met with potential surrogates, but this had been one way to use her time while she awaited word on her problem case: Chelsea Drew-Flynn and Remy Toxton.
As Hedda walked along Randolph Street she checked her phone.
No news from her investigator, Ed Bascom.
In addition to having Bascom track Remy and her ex-con boyfriend, Hedda had launched other efforts to salvage the case. Shed had several members of her support staff pose as people desperate for a new Caucasian baby boy. Shed instructed them to call her competitors, who ran international adoption agencies, and enquire about deliverability in the shortest time frame, and to hint at a bonus payment if they could circumvent any waiting list.
In every case so far, all attempts had been futile. The wait was too long. One agency out of Europe hinted at something in six months. Even if Hedda had succeeded in finding a new baby boy, Chelsea rightfully regarded Remy and Fyodors baby as hers. Shed fallen in love with this couple. A substitution would be a challenge, but shed done it before.
Hedda was growing increasingly fearful of the possibility that Remy may have been among the dead or missing in the wake of the tornadoes that devastated parts of Texas and other states.
It would account for why Bascom had failed to pick up any activity on Remy or Masons credit cards, bank cards, or cell phones.
I dont know, Hedda thought. We have no proof thats what happened.
If Remy lost the baby, she might have been encouraged by her ex-con boyfriend to flee in order to hang on to the fifteen thousand. Or, she may have decided to keep the baby, a possibility that Hedda doubted, based on her experience with surrogates.
Heddas phone vibrated with a message from Chelsea Drew-Flynn.
I want to talk. Can I call now?
Hedda stopped walking and gathered her thoughts. Be careful, you are not going to blow this. She took a moment then responded.
Yes, call me now.
A few seconds later, Heddas phone rang.
Any news? Chelsea asked.
Nothing concrete, but were very hopeful.
You think the mother is having second thoughts?
Itspossible. But as I say, we are hopeful.
Itspossible. But as I say, we are hopeful.
Chelsea sighed heavily on the other end of the line. All right, you can work out your commission or whatever you do, but Im prepared to offer seven hundred and fifty thousand to help her change her mind, conditional upon me holding my son within two weeks.
Hedda steadied herself on a Chicago Tribune news box. She swallowed, her mind assessing it all, as she cleared her throat.
The agreement is written for two hundred. Wed have to-
Yes, yes, you make any changes necessary for me to initial, sign, whatever. Call the increase a gift, call it whatever you like, but I want my son and Ill do whatever I have to do to make it happen. Is that clear?
Understood.
Moreover, I had indicated to you that I know of other women very anxious to adopt a new baby, including one, actually two, who will pay over seven figures.
Yes.
Well, Im willing to recommend your agency to them, if you dont screw this up. My friends have very large networks of affluent people.
All right.
If you fail to deliver on our agreement, Ill have to explore all my options. Do I make myself clear?
Absolutely.
The call ended.
For several seconds, Hedda stood there on the busy street staring at her phone in disbelief. The stakes had gone up.
Way up.
37
Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex, Texas
Shelby Nix scratched his three-days-growth beard as he reviewed registrations for the Tumbleweed Dreams Motel while watching commercials on the big flat-screen TV in reception.
For the past eight years he had been manager of the two-story inn that sat at the citys southeast edge. Every now and then the ex-navy cook thought about buying the place from the owners who lived in Florida. The glory of the old motel, like its worn, embroidered towels, was fading and it barely broke even. This week was good, he thought; they were at ninety percent, thanks to the tornadoes, but today they had a lot of departures. Shelby was clicking through the guest log on his computer at the counter when the phone rang.
Tumbleweed Motel, he said.
Shell, I cant make it in today.
His hand reflexively tightened on the handset at the sound of Daisy Culpeppers whiny voice. She was the most senior of his four housekeepers, but even if the good Lord and all his apostles helped her, Daisy could not work a full week. Hed warned her several times.
Its my back, again. Im in pain.
Daisy, youre done. Ill mail you your final check and pink slip.
What?
Youre fired.
But Shell-my doc-
Shelby ended the call and started another to his junior housekeeper, Maria Mendosa.
Hi, Maria, its Shelby at the motel, he said in Spanish.
Hi, Shelby.
If your cousins still looking for work, tell her to come with you today.
Oh, thats fantastic! I will tell her! Thank you, thank you very much!
Maria never missed a day and her work was stellar. He was confident her cousin would be a good hire. Upon hanging up, he dismissed any remorse over firing Daisy. Hell, the woman lived a block from the motel but always had an excuse not to make it into work. For the next several moments he reviewed her attendance record.
It was dreadful.
No, he thought, it had to be done. Shes gone.
Shelbys eyes then flicked to the TV, where he saw the Presidents face. The news was on. He used the remote to increase the volume. The White House was confirming the Presidents upcoming visit to the Metroplex and its hardest-hit regions.