Page 6 of Marrying the Nanny

Oil spills didn’t need that much cleanup. There was no way Reid was getting involved.

At least the baby was making happier noises, these ones nonsense gurgles that made Emma’s face soften with affection. She was almost cute when she wasn’t throwing daggers from those green eyes of hers.

When no one responded to Dennis’s remark, Emma glanced up and saw that everyone was watching her. “Taking notes?”

She wiped her hands on yet another wet wipe while the freshly diapered baby flipped onto her stomach again. This time the kid made a noise that sounded a lot like a chortle at their expense.

Enough. Reid took control by yanking out the chair next to Trystan’s. He directed Dennis to, “Explain what you mean by ‘custody.’” Maybe it wasn’t as life-leveling as it sounded.

Dennis looked to Harpreet. Harpreet offered an empathetic smile.

“When a child is orphaned, the ministry has two questions.” She held up fingers bedecked with rings. “Is there a capable and willing guardian and is there a means of support for the child? My role is to ensure Storm has a safe and caring upbringing. She also has a public trustee who will ensure her financial and legal rights are observed. Currently she is a ward of the government, but one of you can apply to become her guardian.”

She looked with optimism to each of them.

Reid knew his expression was exactly as stony and averse as Logan’s and Trystan’s. He made sure it was. Kids were way too much responsibility. That’s why he didn’t plan on having any. Ever.

“No specific provisions have been made for Storm’s guardianship,” Dennis said, opening the folder before him. “Your father and Tiffany were intending to come through here on their way home from Las Vegas after they were officially married.”

“They didn’t get married,” Trystan pointed out. “How does that affect things?”

“It doesn’t. They were living together and had a child so they’re observed to be common-law spouses.” Dennis glanced down. “Tiffany didn’t have a will. We were going to prepare one for her while she was here. We were saving the discussion of particulars for that meeting. I have no indication of the changes Wilf had in mind or what Tiffany’s desires were. We can only go by Wilf’s wishes as expressed in the will that was updated after his divorce from Glenda.”

Dennis looked to Logan, Glenda’s son, then to Reid and Trystan.

“At the time of that will”—Dennis star-fished his hand over the pages before him—“you were all adults. Custody arrangements were moot. If there had been something written into this for any of you, that might have provided direction on his wishes for Storm, but I don’t have anything like that to guide us today.”

“Tiffany didn’t name anyone?” Reid asked.

“She has a sister,” Emma provided.

She was rolling the baby the way Glenda used to knead bread dough, back and forth on the mat. Soft, pudgy limbs had already gone into a T-shirt with snaps down the front. Now a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved pullover went over it. The baby kept pulling at her fuzzy pink socks, trying to remove them.

“I don’t know her name or how to reach her. She might not even know—” Emma met Reid’s gaze, brow crinkled with consternation.

It was another slamming acknowledgment that his father was dead, cracking against his shell so he had to look away to keep it from penetrating. He ignored the ache that seemed to fracture all the way into his chest.

“I’m not sure how close they were,” Emma continued in a husky voice. “Tiffany said her sister was supposed to come help with Storm. It sounded like she canceled at the last minute and that’s why they hired me. Tiffany didn’t talk about her much and got really tense when she did.”

“Have you tried to find her?” Logan looked between Harpreet and Dennis.

Harpreet’s smile became a pained line. “I’ve reached out to various channels, but haven’t received much. Cloe is quite a bit younger than Tiffany. She lived with their mother in Los Angeles until their mother passed from a drug overdose. Cloe went into care but aged out within a year. That was six years ago. The family that fostered her hasn’t heard from her since. Her online presence is stale and she failed to file a tax return the last two years. Without a fixed address and steady employment, I don’t think she’s the best option for Storm.”

So there was no one. Reid absorbed that as he watched Emma use a blanket to wrap the baby like a burrito.

Trystan abruptly rose. He snatched up the plastic bag of diaper and wet wipes that Emma had discarded, dropped it into a wastebasket. He set the wastebasket outside the door, closed the door and cracked the window on his way back to his seat.

“So fastidious,” Logan remarked.

“Neither of you fussbudgets would touch it.”

Emma gave an affronted sniff as she used one hand to ball up the soiled clothes and tucked them with the pad back into her oversize bag. She moved the bag to the floor and sank into a chair with a sigh, the bundled baby in her arms.

The kid was blessedly, finally, silent. Her chin stretched with a hearty yawn.

“Perhaps if we put some minds at ease with regard to support,” Dennis said and glanced at his watch. “George will be here any minute with the financial statements, but we can discuss disposition.”

He opened his folder, then glanced up again.

---