Page 10 of The Virgin's Baby
No, there was no way I could do that. I pulled the paper out of my pocket, ready to toss it into the next trashcan I saw.
Funny thing. I didn’t see a single trashcan as I walked home.
Is this fate?
Chapter Five
Ransom
Lubbock, Texas – May 15th
Having placed posters around various places in Lubbock, I’d set up the framework for my idea that I thought was brilliant. Hiring a surrogate would allow me to produce the heir my grandfather now required, and I wouldn’t have anything binding me to some woman.
We both would get what we wanted. Not that I wanted a baby. But if it would mean I got to keep the money he would be leaving behind, so be it.
Plus, it would feel nice to have some blood in the world with me. That was one of the first things that came to mind—no longer being all alone.
This would fix everything. After the baby was born, I would just hire a nanny to raise him. It might mean that I would have to stay home a little more. But other than that, I didn’t see that my life would change that much.
The posters had been placed in areas where I thought smart women would be: libraries around town and several places around the college too.
So far, the calls I’d gotten hadn’t thrilled me. One woman sounded like she smoked. After watching my grandfather deal with lung cancer that probably resulted from his many years of smoking, I wasn’t keen on that.
Another asked me questions that made my skin crawl. Asking if I was going to do weird sexual things with this baby? Not that she minded, she just wanted to know. She made me sick. I didn’t want a thing to do with her.
Sitting on the garden patio behind my grandfather’s estate, I saw my cell vibrating on the table in front of me. Chelsea, one of the maids, came across the lush green carpet grass, carrying a tray of fruit and cheese and a carafe of red wine. A little snack before dinner.
Picking up the phone, I nodded at the young, pretty maid. Her features were great: high cheekbones, naturally flawless complexion, and shiny blond hair. She looked healthy enough. But I knew I couldn’t ask any of the staff to be the surrogate; they would be too close to me. The ties wouldn’t be easily broken unless I fired them, which would be the wrong thing to do.
As it was, my grandfather was currently onboard with my idea. If I went so far as to ask any member of his staff, he wouldn’t be onboard anymore.
“Thank you, Chelsea.” I took the wine, filling my empty glass.
“You’re welcome, sir.” She curtsied then turned to leave me.
Answering the call, I said, “Hello?”
“Hi, I’m calling about the surrogate job,” came a woman’s high-pitched nasally voice with a horrible southern twang.
She sounded old. “May I ask your age, ma’am?”
“Thirty-three. But I’ve got five kids. You know I’m fertile,” she let me know.
I wasn’t impressed.What kind of a woman who already has kids wants to have one for a stranger?Something had to be wrong with her.
“Is that so?” I drummed my fingers on the table, trying to decide how I would tell her that she was too old, and I thought something might be wrong with her mind. I was pretty sure it would not be a good idea to say those actual words.
“It is,” she went on as if she thought she was impressing me. “Shoot, I had my first one when I was sixteen and my last one when I was twenty-eight. I figure I can shoot another one out for ya. So, how much money are we talkin’ ‘bout here?”
Oh, how to tell her that there’s no way in hell that I’m going to allow her to be the biological mother of any child of mine?
“Well…” I said.
She cut me off, telling me more that she seemed certain would fill me with confidence that she was the right one for this job, “Now, don’t go lettin’ my age throw ya. My momma had kids up ‘til she was forty. And most of them were born alive. A couple were stillbirths. That’s understandable though. She had fifteen pregnancies between the ages of fourteen and forty. Now, that’s impressive. You’ve gotta admit that. And I am her daughter. I’ve got those great genes. And I can pass them on to your kid. And how much money did you say it was?”
The sound of my phone beeping had me pulling it back to find another number was calling. “I’ll have to call you another time. Sorry.”
“But…”
