walked to his reserved parking spot a few minutes later, carrying the briefcase that had been a birthday gift from his parents. In deference to the lingering heat, he had tossed the jacket of his suit over his shoulder and loosened his Italian silk tie.
He was aware that some of his staff members thought he overdressed for the job, but the responsibility of his position as the director weighed heavily on his shoulders. His goal was to present an image of reassurance and responsibility in order to gain people’s trust. He had helped to build Children’s Connection into a nationally known and respected agency. Every year they helped hundreds of people to attain their dream of having a family.
He was proud of the work they did. That was why cases like Emma Wright’s weighed heavily on his mind.
Meanwhile Morgan’s parents were visiting from California for a few days. As usual, they’d refused his offer of the guest room at his condo, preferring to stay at a nearby hotel instead.
“Packing it in, Mr. D?” asked the parking guard as Morgan unlocked the door to his sensible SUV.
“Figured it was time, Andy,” he replied. “How’s your wife’s foot? Is she feeling better?”
Andy had mentioned that she’d tripped over a grandchild’s toy truck a couple of days before.
“Getting better,” he said now. “Thanks for asking, though.” He ran his hand through his tightly curled gray hair. “Enjoy your evening.”
Morgan’s mother claimed they didn’t want to “upset his routine” by staying with him, but he suspected an ulterior motive. She made no secret of her desire for a passel of grandbabies to spoil. To that end, she wasn’t about to invade his privacy, just in case he had a girlfriend tucked away.
He would like nothing better than to enjoy a serious relationship with a woman he could picture spending his life with, but so far it hadn’t happened. Perhaps he was foolish to believe that he would somehow know when he met the one meant for him—that special woman—but he wasn’t willing to settle for less. Meanwhile, he was busy with the agency, the summer camp and the occasional date with a potential soul mate.
His town house was part of a fairly new complex located a few miles from the office. It had a great view of the Willamette River. Despite the heavy rush-hour traffic that streamed from downtown Portland to the suburbs, his commute took less than a half hour, giving him plenty of time to shower and change clothes before meeting his folks for dinner.
“You seem preoccupied,” Morgan’s mother said after the waiter left with their orders. “Did something happen at work today?”
He glanced at his father, a pediatrician he respected more than any man he’d ever known.
“Might as well tell her,” Dr. Davis suggested with a grin. “She’s like one of those California condors. She won’t rest until she’s picked you clean.”
Morgan’s mother, a teacher, swatted at him with her napkin. The love between the two of them never failed to strengthen his own determination to find that one special woman with whom he could form a similar bond.
“I met someone today.” He knew his mother would pounce on his comment like a duck on a bug.
Hazel eyes widening below her silver bangs, she leaned forward eagerly. “Really?”
“Don’t tease her, son,” his father said dryly.
A wave of remorse washed over Morgan. He was well aware that what she and his father wanted—all they had ever wanted—was his happiness.
And a few grandbabies to spoil, of course.
“It’s not what you think, Mom,” he cautioned as the waiter brought their drinks. “This woman recently found out she was adopted through Children’s Connection and she was looking for answers.”
His father frowned thoughtfully. “Were you able to help her?” he asked in the calm voice that had reassured thousands of young patients through the course of his medical career.
Morgan fiddled with the stem of his wine goblet as he pictured Emma’s face, her sooty eyes swimming with tears. He should have tried harder to soften her disappointment.
“Well, Emma did slam the door to my office pretty hard when she left,” he admitted wryly, sitting back in his chair when the waiter brought their salads. “I’d take that as a no.”
The waiter’s expression didn’t alter as he offered each of them fresh-ground pepper. He must overhear some interesting bits of conversation during a shift, Morgan thought.
“Was Emma pretty?” His mother’s gaze gleamed with interest.
“What did she want to know?” his father asked at the same time.
“She’s extremely pretty.” Morgan pictured her in his mind. “Her hair is brown and wavy. She’s got big gray eyes that a man could get lost in.”
Too late he realized he’d said too much, so he focused on his salad.
“Is that all?” his father asked.
“Is she single?” His mother’s expression was eager enough to make Morgan nervous.
“Legs that won’t quit and curves in all the right places,” he added for his father’s benefit. “Divorced,” he admitted to his mother.
As long as he didn’t divulge Emma’s full name, he wasn’t technically breaching confidentiality. Unless, of course, they started dating and she met his folks. Then he would have to tell her what he’d done, but what were the odds he would ever see her again?
“And?” his mother gestured with her fork.
“She’s just lost her job as a school counselor,” he blurted out.
“That sounds like a lot for a young woman to deal with.” His father’s voice was sympathetic.
“You find a woman with a problem more attractive than one wearing a thong bikini,” his mother commented.
Morgan’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”
She peered at him through her glasses. “You’re a sucker for a woman who needs help.”
“Stella, let the boy eat,” his father said with a wink at Morgan. “We’re not going to marry him off tonight.”
“I was raised by a doctor and a teacher,” Morgan drawled. “I’d say that helping people runs in the family.”
For a few moments, conversation lagged as the three of them ate their salads. Silently Morgan reviewed in his mind everything Emma had told him. With a sigh of regret, he arrived at the same conclusion as before—that there was nothing else he could have done without compromising the agency’s rules and his own principles, as well as adding to the burden of heartbreak she already appeared to carry.
“What do you think of the Trailblazers’ prospects?” Dr. Davis asked. Portland boasted an NBA basketball team, but the closest thing to major league baseball was a Triple-A team named the Beavers.
“Too soon
