Page 43 of Geordie

Lochlanwouldsaythata winery manager needs to give his full attention to the business of managing the operation. I would agree, but today my home life has stolen my concentration. I sit at my desk clutching a pencil, tapping out a steady beat, wondering how I gained a roommate who's in charge of my life. Maybe that's overstating it, but it’s been weeks and Lily has ordered my days into a predictable routine.

Layla calls, interrupting my brooding to say I have a visitor. A few moments later, the disheveled figure of my attorney pushes his way into the room, a battered briefcase in hand, and lands onto a chair in front of my desk. He looks around, scratching his head, then smooths the ruffled tendrils with his hand. “I've never been to this winery. The wife has mentioned we should do a tasting, but we never find the time.”

“Art, you're welcome to taste after our meeting. Call your wife, she can join you. I'll ask the tasting room to arrange something special.”

“Thank you, not today. I have to see another client. Maybe another time.”

“Sorry you had to meet me here,” chucking my chin to my crutches. “Getting around is difficult these days.”

He waves my apology away. “Think nothing of it. I should get out more often.” Art looks around, studying his surroundings.

“You said you had something to report?” Trying to guide him back onto the subject.

“Yes,” his startled gaze coming back to me, “My news is mixed. The two agencies that showed an initial interest said, off the record, they would love to help, if you weren't a single straight male looking to adopt a girl.”

“That's fine. We can move on from that option. We knew it might be a dead end.”

“How is your dating coming along? Have you received responses to your ad?”

“Thanks to your coaching, I've received a fair number of responses. None impressed me, and even if there was a spark of interest, I'm not able to take anyone out to get to know them.”

“Keep plugging at it. You never know where an opportunity might come from. The good news is we have a surrogate who's interested.” He pops open his briefcase to extract a file. “Her name is Connie Dees,” dropping the folder onto my desk. “She's the right age, married, and has two kids of her own. This will be the second time she will carry a child as a surrogate.”

My attorney has already vetted the woman before bringing her to my attention. I make a cursory inspection of the rest of the information, then glance at Art, who's waiting for my opinion. I close the file, pushing it back across the desk. “When can I meet with her?”

“I can set something up next week; just give me dates to present to her.”

“I'd like to meet in the late afternoon after 4 p.m. Anytime next week will be fine.” He takes back the file, placing it in his case. “How's the search for an egg donor going? Is there anyone you want me to consider?” I’m not expecting anything on that front this soon, but I had to ask.

“I'll have a report for you next week.” He taps his briefcase, then slides it off his lap. “There's one more thing you need to know about Connie. She's interested in meeting you and two other couples.” He puts up a hand to stop my objection. “It's a good sign she's willing to meet you. Some won't even consider a single man.”

William and Tim warned me I'd face challenges. “Fine, if I think she's a match, then I'll convince her to work with me.”

I check my haircut in the mirror that's been buzzed a wee bit too close on the sides. Nothing to do about it; it will grow out soon. The barber did a better job of taming my beard.

I'm tying my tie for the second time, forcing my fingers to repeat the drill until it's perfect, then shove my dark gray shirttail into black trousers.

My attorney arranged a meeting sooner than expected with Connie Dees. Within a few hours, I was agreeing to a meeting today. I offered to meet her at a restaurant, but she said she would like to tour my apartment and see how I live. Fair enough. She'll be evaluating me, but I'll also be evaluating her.

The doorbell rings and I grab my crutches to amble to the door. She looks younger than her photograph, no makeup, hair pulled back into a long ponytail. Her hands are shoved into a faded jean jacket over a blue cotton dress that sweeps to her ankles, and she’s wearing a pair of black chucks. Connie's hand shoots out for me to shake, and I'm surprised at her firm grip when I grasp her hand.

“Come in,” I say, taking a step back for her to enter.

She scans the apartment as if taking mental pictures of each chair, lamp, and table. Her actions force me to look at my dwelling as a stranger would view it. The place says alpha male with its dark sober colors, art, and furnishings. There's no balance, and I feel the need to apologize for my surroundings. That will change once the baby is on it’s way. It will give me time to have the place redone. “Would you like something to drink?”

“I’d like a cola if you have one,” she says and smiles with pale, pink lips exposing straight white teeth.

“Why don't you come to the kitchen while I get your drink, then we can take a tour of the apartment?”

She's admiring the kitchen, hand skimming over the cold gray marble counter while I hunt for a glass and a cola. When I hand her the glass, she thanks me for the fizzy brown drink.

“Do you live here alone?” she asks, then takes a sip.

“At the moment, I have a roommate who helps me out. As you can see, I'm moving around with crutches.”

Her brows knit with a question, so I supply a brief explanation of my accident. “Once I've recovered, I'll be living alone again. The apartment has three bedrooms. It's just through here.”

She follows me outside the first bedroom. “I planned to turn this into a guest room or an office.” Connie pushes the door open before I can move past. A few of Lily's clothes are on the half-made bed. She's taking in the sight before I can close the door. “As you can see, my roommate stays here. The next room will be the nursery,” pushing the door open to an empty space.

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