Page 14 of Overnight Inheritance

She opened the door and poked her head around. Sebastian was standing in the middle of the room with a baby in one arm.

“Alfie!” Mae rushed over, surprised at how happy she was to see him. “How are you?”

Alfie offered a quick smile and then turned his head into his father’s shoulder. Apparently, just because they’d met a couple of times didn’t mean they were friends.

“Morning, Mae,” Sebastian said, sounding weary. She looked from the baby up to the father, noting the dark smudges under his eyes, and olive skin a little paler than usual.

“Do you normally bring him into work? I thought it was his nanny who brought him in.”

“Never on my own, or I wouldn’t get work done. Emily does bring him in sometimes.” He blew out a long breath. “But she got sick overnight, and I took her up to the ER. Of course it meant waking Alfie too, so we’re both pretty tired. Emily has a stomach bug. The doctor suggested she have a few days away from Alfie even after she feels better to ensure she’s not contagious, so we don’t know how long until she can come back.”

Mae stroked Alfie’s chubby little arm. “What will you do?”

“I have calls in to all the agencies, but there seems to be some sort of shortage of experienced nannies. Maybe they’re all enjoying the spring weather somewhere, I don’t know. For today, Ashley’s parents are on their way down from upstate to help. They should be here soon.” Sebastian walked to the chair behind his desk and sank into it, Alfie on his lap. “I’ve had to clear my morning again.”

Her instinct was to offer to help, but she wasn’t sure exactly how. Before she could think it through, raised voices from Rosario’s office floated through the doorway. “I want to see him.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Rosario’s calm, firm voice countered.

“We had an appointment this morning and I’m here.” The voice sounded like that of an older man. An annoyed older man. “I want to see him. Now.”

Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath, then stood, Alfie still in his arms.

“Do you want me to...?” Mae said, putting her hands out, not really sure of the best course of action.

“No, it’s fine,” he said and opened the door, revealing a man of about seventy wearing a tweed coat. “Mr. Sheridan. I’m sorry about our meeting. As you can see—” he looked down at Alfie, who was starting to fuss, kicking his legs “—my hands are relatively full this morning, which is why my assistant changed our time.”

The other man planted his feet. “Well, I’m here now.”

“Okay, then come on in,” Sebastian said, a determined smile plastered on his face.

Mae stepped back, out of the doorway, not really sure what she should do.

“Mr. Sheridan,” Sebastian started, before Alfie covered his mouth with his chubby little hands. Sebastian removed them and adjusted the toddler. “Mr. Sheridan. Laurence, if I may?”

“You may not. I’m Mr. Sheridan to you, and I want the meeting I was promised.”

For a suspended moment, Alfie seemed to stop breathing, his little face turning red, and then he let out a wail.

Mae stepped forward and stuck out her hand to their visitor. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Sheridan. I’m Mae.”

He regarded her suspiciously. “I came for a meeting with him—” he jerked a thumb at Sebastian “—and I won’t be foisted on someone else. I need to meet with the owner.”

Sebastian turned sideways so he could speak over Alfie’s head. “Then it’s your lucky day. This is Mae Rutherford, and she owns 50 percent of the company.”

Technically, she and Heath owned 25 percent each, but now wasn’t the time for nuance. She grabbed a chair from in front of Sebastian’s desk and took it over to her little wooden desk. She had no idea what she was doing. Her only aim was to smooth things out somehow. “Would you like to sit down?”

Mr. Sheridan looked from her to Sebastian and back again. “Thank you, I will.”

As she took her seat on the opposite side, she met Sebastian’s gaze over their visitor’s head. He mouthed, “Just go with it.”

She laced her fingers together on the desk in front of her and smiled as if she were meeting a student’s parents at a parent-teacher conference. “How can I help you, Mr. Sheridan?”

He ran his hand over the wood. “This is a good desk. Solid.”

She nodded. “Not too big, not too small.”

“Exactly.” He threw a look at the huge glass monster of a desk on the other side of the room. “Too much desk for any one person, that one.”

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