sister-in-law was almost jogging on the top step, balancing her young daughter, Rose, on her hip while she pressed the doorbell again.
‘I’m up here,’ Sally called.
Anna Finch looked up, her face chalk-white and terrified. Sally’s first thought was that something had happened to Steve, her brother, who worked on an oil rig off the Western Australian coast.
Without another word, she left the window and flew down the stairs, her hair problems instantly dismissed.
‘Anna,’ she cried as she flung the front door open and encountered a heart-stopping close up view of her sister-in-law’s pale cheeks and fearful, worried eyes. ‘What is it? What’s the matter? Is it Steve?’
‘No, Steve’s fine. It’s Oliver. He’s having a terrible asthma attack.’
It was only then that Sally saw Anna’s blue car parked at the gate and her three-year-old nephew’s sad face peering anxiously out at them. Poor little Oliver looked pale and sunken and, even from this distance, Sally could sense that he was struggling to breathe.
‘I rang the doctor’s surgery and they told me to take him straight to the hospital,’ Anna said.
‘The poor darling. How can I help?’
‘I was hoping you could mind Rose.’ As she said this, Anna thrust her chubby young daughter into Sally’s arms. ‘Oliver’s so frightened and I’m almost as terrified as he is.’
Sally could believe that. Anna was often in a state of high anxiety, one of those mothers who were perpetually worried. And this time she had a real emergency on her hands.
‘I don’t think I could manage at the hospital if I had Rose with me as well,’ she said.
Sally nearly said, I have my interview this morning, but she bit it back. Anna had enough on her plate.
‘I knew you wouldn’t mind.’ Without checking Sally’s response, Anna slipped the strap of a large crimson vinyl bag from her shoulder and set it on the doorstep. ‘Everything Rose needs should be in here.’
‘Right.’ Sally looked at the fifteen-month-old toddler in her arms—all golden hair and sunshiny smiles—and her heart sank. What on earth could she do with Rose while she went to the interview? She was already in danger of running late. And her hopes were pinned on scoring this job. Already, an alarming number of bills had landed in her letter box.
‘You’re wonderful, Sal,’ Anna said. ‘It’s so great having you close by now.’ At the bottom of the steps, she seemed to remember something. ‘What on earth have you done to your hair?’
‘Oh.’ Sally knew she must look a fright with one half of her hair still in pins. She shrugged and a hysterical little laugh escaped her. ‘It’s—it’s an experiment. I was trying a new look.’
With an unflattering roll of her eyes and a shake of her head, Anna raced back to her car.
Logan Black sat in his office, which was perched like an eagle’s eyrie high above Sydney’s glittering blue harbour, and spoke smoothly into the phone. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Charles, but I couldn’t consider that proposal without—’
Logan stopped in mid-sentence. He wasn’t easily distracted from a business conversation, but he could have sworn he’d heard a giggle coming from beneath his desk.
But that was impossible.
Ridiculous.
‘As I was saying, I—’ He paused again. This time he’d felt a distinct tug on the lace of his right shoe.
What the devil?
Swivelling in his leather executive chair, he peered into the shadowy depths beneath his enormous cherry wood desk and almost dropped the phone.
A very small child grinned cheekily up at him—a little girl, if Logan guessed correctly—not much more than a baby really. Her face was distinctly impish and she was clutching Logan’s shoelace in her tiny pink fist.
Logan cursed and then blustered, ‘How did you get in here?’
‘What’s that? What are you talking about?’ The CEO of Australia’s biggest mining company was suddenly confused and impatient on the other end of the line.
‘Ah—one moment, Charles.’ Logan stared down at the tiny intruder. How had a baby materialised in his office? In his office—the inner sanctum of the Managing Director of Blackcorp Mining Consultancies? It didn’t make sense. The occasional attractive woman might have found her way in here unannounced, but that was another matter entirely.
Surely it was impossible for any trespasser to enter here without being seen. Had the child crawled? Or was she simply so small she’d been out of eye range? Below the radar, so to speak.
With his hand over the receiver, Logan pressed the button connecting him to his PA’s desk and, at the same time, he barked, ‘Maria!’
To his dismay, there was no reply from outside and no reassuring female figure appeared at the doorway. To make matters worse, the little trespasser had abandoned Logan’s shoelaces and seemed intent on climbing his leg, clasping at the fine wool of his expensive trousers with distinctly sticky paws.
‘Down!’ Logan ordered in much the same voice he might have used to scold a wilful puppy.
‘Logan, what the hell’s going on?’ Charles Holmes’s voice thundered into the phone.
‘I’m sorry, Charles.’ Eyeing the toddler with an emotion approaching horror, Logan cleared his throat. Where was Maria? ‘Something’s—er—come up. An emergency. I’ll have to call you back. I’ll email through my suggestions for the changes and then we’ll take another look at your proposal.’
As he hung up, Logan scowled at the small person now trying to straddle his knee. Her eyes were dark brown and enormous, like a puppy’s, her hair super-fine and shiny gold, her skin soft and pink.
She looked deceptively angelic, smelled of shampoo and was dressed neatly in a pink dress embroidered with ducks. Her shoes were soft leather, her socks clean and white. She had, Logan admitted silently, the noticeable attributes of a child whose mother cared for her. This morning, however, her mother had been noticeably careless.
‘Where are your parents?’ Logan demanded aloud.
‘Jig-jig!’ the baby girl replied, bouncing vigorously on his Italian-shod foot.
‘No, I will not jig-jig.’ Gingerly fitting his hands beneath her tiny armpits, Logan lifted her before she could scramble any higher and set her back on the floor. ‘I don’t have time to jig-jig. I have a company to run. We need to find your parents.’
Again he pressed the buzzer on his desk and, when there was no answer, he marched to his office doorway and glared at the abandoned PA’s desk. If Maria was engaged elsewhere, he would have to call the front desk. Surely someone knew where this child belonged.
Behind him, Logan heard another disturbing giggle.
The
