Chapter Seven

After Miranda was changed, bathed, clothed and fed, a more complicated and sometimes exasperating process than she had expected, even with Myrtle's help, Kendall exhaled a long drawn-out sigh of relief. Miranda now sat taking a break in her high chair, devoting her full attention to a colorful plastic musical toy, while Kendall was ready for a nap. "Binks, how do you do it?" she wondered out loud. "I really don't think I'm cut out for this."

Rinsing dishes at the sink, Myrtle chuckled. "Kendall, honey, nobody is born knowing how to take care of a baby. It takes practice, patience, and—hold still, you've got a dab of cereal stuck to your cheek."

"Yeah, well, look at the rest of me." Kendall still wore the clothes she'd slept on the sofa in, and her hair resembled a giant bird's nest. "Now I know why people hire nannies."

"Go on up and take a shower while you have the chance, honey. And then take a nap. I'll bet you didn't sleep a wink last night."

Kendall hesitated. She'd originally planned to do just that. She knew that she and Miranda were both welcome to make themselves at home at Myrtle's indefinitely, while Myrtle mothered them both. Not only did Myrtle's presence and expertise solved a multitude of problems where Miranda was concerned…she was a voice of calm and reason during this crisis, a voice that Kendall sorely needed to keep from going off the deep end. The temptation to surrender herself to Myrtle's solicitude was almost overwhelming.

But…but. As well as the solution, that was the problem. This was Myrtle's home. If she and Myrtle didn't see eye-to-eye on something, it was Myrtle's will that must prevail. And there were no "ifs" about where their gazes met on the issue of Zach Slater. There was no reasoning with Myrtle on that score—she was completely bamboozled by the man. If he came sauntering up the walk right now—and Kendall was surprised he hadn't—Myrtle would usher him in, sit him down at the kitchen table, right beside Miranda's high chair, ply him with the coffee and muffins Kendall had been unable to choke down, and probably ask him if he wanted to take the baby out for a stroll.

That made it imperative to remove Miranda's from Myrtle's as soon as possible. At her own condo, she could both safeguard Miranda from Zach's intrusions, and monitor his comings and goings from her front window, while she waited for news. After her experience with that obstinate blabbermouth Derek Frye, whose idea of law enforcement clearly didn't extend to protecting innocent children, Kendall had no illusions that she could successfully keep Miranda's location a secret from Zach with her present limited resources. So she might as well hide the baby in plain sight. That way she could keep an eye on both of them.

"You know what, Myrtle?" Kendall replied too casually. "You've been wonderful, and please don't think I haven't loved every second of it, but I think I'll go home instead. I've got some things I need to do, and—and I'll take Miranda with me for the time being so you can have a break."

Myrtle was aghast at the prospect. "You're not thinking of leaving and taking that child away with you?"

"Just for awhile," Kendall tried to placate Myrtle, "I need to talk to Greenlee and find out what's going on at Fusion at least, and I don't want to tie up your phone, and besides, you're right, I need to practice with Miranda. I can't do that here with you helping take care of her, because it's too easy just to let you take over. It'll be fun, and I think Miranda needs some alone time with her Auntie Kendall, don't you, Miranda?"

Intent in her play, cooing to herself, Miranda ignored the question, but Myrtle was less reticent. "I've seen too many con games in my time not to know you're up to something, Kendall Hart."

"I'm not, Myrtle, truly!" I'm just trying to spare your feelings, that's all. You have a soft spot for a lying, conniving, rotten killer, and I'm just not rubbing your nose in it. "I just want to go home with Miranda. I'll call you when I get home, and I'll call you throughout the day whether we hear anything or not to let you know we're all right, and if I have any problems or questions about stopping her from crying or changing diapers, I'll most definitely call you!"

"You're just like your mother." Myrtle shook her head in resignation. "You have an answer for everything. All right, honey, go on with you. I know I can't expect you to stay here and humor an old woman all day. You go get your things, and I'll get Miranda's things together and pack up her diaper bag. But if anything happens, anything at all, you let me know."

Kendall threw her arms around Myrtle's small form. "Myrtle, don't worry, we'll be fine. I already have you on speed dial."

A short time later, Kendall was on her way home with Miranda in the back seat, after a frustrating but ultimately successful battle with the combination stroller/car seat Bianca had left at Myrtles. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so positively unreal…never before had she had reason to drive anywhere with Miranda alone in the car, never before had she ever even babysat Miranda either for long or completely independently.

She choked back a sob as she recalled Ethan helping her the last time she'd watched Miranda briefly at Bianca's apartment. Ethan! Where are you? He'd had such a gleam in his eye about this trip. And she'd been so thrilled that he was working on the joint venture with Erica and Bianca, a project that promised to benefit both Cambias Industries and Erica's fledgling New Beginnings, and hopefully help Erica see that Ethan really was a good guy at heart, who played fair in business, who wasn't letting his newfound power go to his head after all, even though….

From behind her, Miranda suddenly let out such yowl that Kendall bit down hard on the lip she was already gnawing at. "Don't cry, sweetie, we're almost home," she tried to soothe the baby. Miranda only kept howling louder over Kendall's increasingly frantic entreaties, making Kendall fell like doing the same thing. Especially once she realized they were driving right past the deserted construction site for the Miranda Montgomery Center for Women and Children.

The baby's timing was uncannily perfect. "As soon as he comes home your big cousin Ethan's going to start the work right back up on your center," Kendall told her brightly, "yes, he is! Ethan won't let us down. He knows how much it means to you—to us!"

But does he? And will he? Somehow having the center's namesake right there with her made Kendall less able to rationalize Ethan's recent actions toward it—his hard-hearted decision to delay construction on the nonprofit project in favor of speeding construction on a commercial building that would help swell Cambias coffers—in spite of her protests. Was she really that easy to fob off?

My god, what are you thinking? This is not the time to doubt Ethan! Kendall rounded on herself. He was out there somewhere, he had to be…maybe the only thing that was keeping him alive was knowing that she was here waiting for him to come home…believing in him no matter what, believing he was protecting Bianca and Erica, even though he wasn't respecting the center they'd founded…. Goddamn it! Stop this!

It was as if a dam had burst in her mind, the mental dam already been under so much strain that it could now hold no more, collapsing under the weight of her misgivings and fears. With Miranda wailing in the background, echoing her turmoil, it took every ounce of Kendall's concentration to complete the short distance remaining to the complex where she lived. From force of habit, her gaze strayed to the windshield visor pocket overhead to make sure her coded keycard was ready to grab to open the residents' private parking area gate. When she looked ahead again, she was surprised to see a crowd of people milling around the normally quiet and secluded complex entrance come into view—until the news vans parked farther up the street identified their purpose.

They weren't an unfamiliar sight to Kendall. "Oh, shit," she breathed in consternation, forgetting to apologize to Miranda as she pulled over and braked the car to a stop. There didn't appear to be any way they were going to reach home without running the press gauntlet, unless her BMW M5 could sprout wings and propellers.

Kendall couldn't believe she'd been oblivious until now to the likelihood. It wouldn't have been quite so disconcerting, if Miranda weren't ensconced in the back seat. Kendall herself was only too accustomed to fending off reporters, and this occasion was rather a novel one—for a change, they weren't after her for anything she'd done. Still, it was a dicey situation; her thoughts were nowhere near coherent enough to come up with any kind of statement, and they'd be aiming cameras every which way. Bianca was always obsessed with Miranda's privacy…. Worst of all, the media tide was beginning to break their way: They'd spotted Kendall, and the hue and cry was on.

Kendall sat immobilized, knowing she should throw the transmission back into drive…or should it be reverse…whatever it took to end this standoff and peel enough rubber to get Miranda and herself out of there before they were engulfed. Somehow, though, her limbs seemed made of rubber. "Shit," she said again. "I'm sorry, Miranda. Get ready for your first press conference. At least you're not in the same clothes you slept in."

But something appeared to be halting the momentum of the press wave aiming toward her, halting it and breaking it up. Reporters began to scatter haphazardly. Kendall could hear shouts and cries coming from them. Soon she could make out way. A big, black, obscenely expensive Range Rover had just exited through the gate from the parking area Kendall was eager to enter. Taking no notice whatsoever of the flesh and blood bodies blocking its path, its heavy steel bulk plowed arrogantly ahead, forcing them out of its way or else.

"Son of a bitch," Kendall said in unwilling admiration under her breath, gunning her engine.