AN: Thank you for all the reviews of the last chapter, I'm afraid I do like cliffhangers! I think there are around three or four more chapters left in this story after this one, just so you know :) Let me know what you think of this one...

Chapter Thirty: Family Business

"Please?" Anabelle Corcoran said softly, as Quinn and Santana continued to eye her suspiciously from the doorstep. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I know you have no reason to trust me, but all I ask is that you hear me out?"

"I don't think so," Santana said bitterly, her dark eyes flashing with undisguised hatred. "Your family have caused us enough pain for one lifetime." She looked like she was about to slam the door in the other woman's face but Quinn placed a gentle hand on her arm to stop her.

"What about Beth?" she asked anxiously. "Is she all right?"

Anabelle looked pained. "Please, let me in and we can talk about this?" she begged. Her voice had a slight southern twang – Georgia or South Carolina maybe, and her blue eyes were filled with compassion.

"Okay," Quinn agreed, taking a step backwards to allow Anabelle to enter the apartment. Santana moved to stand protectively at Quinn's side, her expression making it clear that she did not trust the older woman one iota.

Anabelle looked around the apartment, her blue-eyed gaze curious and calm. She seemed unruffled by Santana's antagonistic behaviour. Her graceful and sophisticated aura didn't falter, even for a second.

"You have a lovely home," she said conversationally, smiling at them warmly. Quinn was suddenly acutely aware that Santana was clad in only a towel and dripping water all over the floor, whilst she was still wearing her sweaty running gear. Something in Anabelle's tone and body language brought years of cotillions and chastity balls, etiquette lessons, and watching her parents entertain friends come flooding back to Quinn, and it left her feeling distinctly unnerved. Anabelle Corcoran would have fitted in perfectly with her mother's country club set. There was, however, no snobbishness to her, and in fact she seemed disarmingly genuine.

"Is Beth okay?" Quinn asked again. The pleasantries could come afterwards as far as she was concerned, Beth was her number one priority.

"She's fine." Was it Quinn's imagination or did Anabelle look away as she answered? "Physically, she's fine," the older woman clarified, seeming to sense that Quinn was unconvinced. "Emotionally, we've… had some challenges." She sighed and shook her head sadly. "I thought things would have started to get better by now, that she'd be settling in with us, but it isn't working. I want to make things better for her. I hate seeing her so unhappy, but frankly, I've done everything I can think of. That's why I'm here. I need your help."

"Of course," Quinn said hurriedly, her stomach churning painfully. Beth was hurting, and suddenly everything else seemed inconsequential.

"Excuse us for a moment." Santana's voice was cold and distrustful. She'd witnessed the sorrow Quinn had been through over the past several weeks and it seemed she wasn't willing to put that aside just yet. "We need to get changed." She waved a hand over her towel-clad form to demonstrate.

"Make yourself at home," Quinn offered as Santana tugged her towards their bedroom, shutting the door quickly behind them.

"What do you think she wants?" Santana asked quickly, in a low voice so she could be sure Anabelle wouldn't overhear.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I was about to find out when you dragged us in here!" she hissed in a loud whisper. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking about the number of times I've heard you cry yourself to sleep over the last couple of months," Santana replied hotly. "I was thinking about how after you first lost Beth I had to force you to get out of bed in the mornings to go to classes." Then her voice softened. "I was thinking about the fact that until the past week or so I was wondering if I'd ever see you smile again. I don't want you to get hurt any more than you already have been," she admitted finally. "I can't stand to watch you go through that again, Q."

Quinn instantly felt bad for her feelings of irritation towards her fiancée when Santana was only trying to look out for her. She knew that the last two months had been almost as difficult for Santana to get through as they had been for her.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, reaching for Santana and drawing her into a comforting embrace. "I'm grateful for your support, I truly am, but I'm not going to break apart again, San. I promise, whatever Anabelle has to say. But if Beth needs help, I can't stand back and do nothing. I just can't."

"I know," Santana murmured resting her forehead against Quinn's and closing her eyes, savouring the connection between them. "I can't either."

Quinn sighed, squeezing her arms more tightly around Santana's waist and drawing comfort from her fiancée's warmth.

"So, let's get changed and go find out why Anabelle's really here," she said, trying to stop the anxiety from sneaking into her tone. Reluctantly, she let go of the brunette and pulled off her running clothes. She would've liked the opportunity to jump in the shower but she didn't want to put off the conversation with Anabelle a moment longer than necessary so she tugged on a pair of black leggings and an oversized red t-shirt that she sometimes wore to lounge around the apartment. At least the clothes were clean and recently pressed, and with her hair let down from its tangled ponytail and hurriedly brushed, she looked passable. Santana threw on a pair of skinny jeans and a soft black sweater, then the girls shared one last hug and a tender kiss before heading back into the living room to face Anabelle.

They found her sitting at the dining table, her ankles crossed demurely and her hands lightly clasped and resting on the table. She smiled at them and once again Quinn found herself disarmed.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked, remembering her manners, but Anabelle shook her head, her shiny blonde hair brushing her shoulders.

"No, thank you. I don't have much time," she explained. "My husband, Oliver," Quinn felt Santana bristle beside her at the sound of his name, "doesn't know I'm here. That is, he knows I'm in New York, but he believes I'm simply here on a weekend trip with our son, Lucas, a little last minute treat before his finals next week. Oliver doesn't know that I'm seeing you. I've left my son in our hotel and I don't want to be away too long."

"So, what do you want?" Quinn asked bluntly. "You said you needed my help with Beth?" She slipped into a chair opposite Anabelle, leaning forward slightly in her desire to hear what the older woman had to say. Santana remained standing, her hands resting protectively on Quinn's shoulders.

"I did," Anabelle admitted, "and I do. She's a beautiful little girl, Quinn, and looking at you I can see where she gets it from." She offered Quinn a gentle smile before continuing. "I've raised two children and I hoped that Beth would be a wonderful addition to our family. I knew she'd been through a traumatic time, so I was under no illusions that everything would be perfect from day one, but I truly believed that we could give her a good home."

"Believed?" Quinn questioned, wondering about Anabelle's use of the past tense. "You don't anymore?"

"I've tried," Anabelle said with a sigh. "She's an easy child to love, and I've come to care about her a great deal, but she seems so sad and I can't do anything to break through her barriers. She cries out in her sleep every night – for Shelby, and for you."

"She does?" Quinn felt her heart break for her daughter. She physically ached to hold the little girl in her arms and comfort her, and she automatically wrapped her arms around her middle. She felt Santana's grip tighten on her shoulders.

"I thought that, in time, she'd come to accept being a part of our family," Anabelle explained, continuing as though Quinn hadn't spoken. "But every day she simply withdraws further into herself. She barely speaks, and she shows no interest in the toys I've bought her. Her teachers at her new pre-school can't get through to her – they say she acts out there, she won't play with the other children and she screams or throws things if they try to get her to join in with group activities." Anabelle seemed genuinely distraught as she described Beth's behaviour. She reached across the table for Quinn's hand and squeezed it tightly.

"Have you gotten her some help?" Quinn asked, her voice choked with unshed tears. "A counsellor? We thought about taking her to see someone when she was staying with us." She glanced up at Santana, anguished. "Maybe she'd be doing better if we had?"

"I did take her to see a psychologist," Anabelle told them softly. "Beth refused to talk to him. All he could tell us is that she's experiencing a severe grief reaction and to give her time." She shook her head sadly. "I just can't watch her suffer any longer. Last week I asked her what would make her feel better, at this point I'd do anything to see her happy again. She told me that she wanted to go home." Her voice cracked, and she looked near to tears. "I don't want to let her go, but I've come to realize that I just can't give her what she needs. She needs you, Quinn."

"But the custody agreement," Quinn said, shaking her head desperately, unable to let herself hope, even for a second, that she could have Beth back. "Oliver hates us, he hates everything we stand for, and I doubt he's just going to sign her over to us."

"Let me worry about my husband," Anabelle said, her voice suddenly full of steel. "I had to come and see you, and see for myself what kind of an environment I'd be sending Beth back to if I granted her wishes. I can see that the two of you," she looked from Quinn to Santana as she spoke," love each other very much."

"Ms. Corcoran?" Santana's voice was gentle but serious at the same time. "After all that your husband has put us through, forgive me if I can't quite believe what you're telling us. Of course we want Beth back, more than anything, but Quinn's right. He's not going to give up on Beth without a fight." She stroked Quinn's shoulders lightly as she spoke, trying to soothe and calm her.

"My husband is a good man," Anabelle told them evenly. Santana scoffed dismissively but the older woman shook her head. "He has some… conservative ideas, I grant you, but he's a good father to our children, Emily and Lucas, and he's a good provider for his family. When I married him, he had nothing. My parents were wealthy and they were less than thrilled with our union. Oliver worked hard to prove himself to my father, and when my father retired ten years ago, my husband took over as CEO of my father's accountancy firm. But the firm and most of our assets are held in my name, my father saw to that." She broke off and paused thoughtfully before continuing. "I love my husband, but I am well aware of his shortcomings." There was that hint of steel again, hidden beneath the soft southern twang of her voice. "If I ask him to sign Beth over to you, rest assured that he will."

"And you won't show up in six months, or six years, wanting her back?" Quinn asked, her voice trembling. She felt clammy and nauseated, and it was all she could do to keep her emotions in check. Anabelle Corcoran was offering her everything she wanted on a silver platter and she couldn't bring herself to believe there was no catch.

"I promise," said Anabelle softly. "All I ask is that you tell her about her mother when she asks. Oliver loved his sister very much. They may not have been close as adults but as children he idolized her. He wants Beth to know all about her."

"Of course." Despite all Oliver had done to her, and all the pain he'd caused Beth, Quinn couldn't help but feel a twinge of compassion. Shelby had loved her brother, and Anabelle obviously saw some good in him, so maybe he wasn't all bad. "When can we have her?" she asked tentatively.

"She's at the hotel with my son," Anabelle explained. "I couldn't stand to leave her while we came to New York. My husband hired a nanny but it wouldn't have been fair to Beth. You can come and get her now if you like. I'll have the papers drawn up in the morning." Tears filled her bright blue eyes, and Quinn could tell that it was hard for the older woman to contemplate saying goodbye to Beth.

Quinn stood up immediately, but Santana put a warning hand on her arm.

"Maybe we should wait until we get the paperwork," she said delicately. Her dark eyes were wide with concern. "If you changed your mind," she said, fixing her gaze on Anabelle, "it would destroy the two people I love the most in this world. I want to believe everything you're saying, but I'd feel better if we had it in writing."

As much as it hurt her to hear Santana's doubt, Quinn understood and it pained her to admit that her fiancée was right. She didn't care about herself, but if they were to bring Beth home only to have her taken away again she knew that her daughter would be irreparably damaged. So she nodded sadly.

"Santana's right," she said, a painful lump forming in her throat. "Tomorrow morning, we can see our lawyer and have the paperwork drawn up. You can talk to your husband tonight and, we can fax the agreement through to him in the morning. Once he's signed, then we'll take Beth."

Anabelle agreed to their terms and Quinn hurriedly phoned Ethan to make an appointment for the following morning. Ethan had a full day of meetings but he agreed to draw up the papers that evening and come in early at eight a.m. to get them signed. It would be five o'clock in the morning in Arizona but Anabelle assured them that she would ensure Oliver was on hand to sign the agreement.

After Quinn had carefully printed out the law firms address for Anabelle, her hand shaking the entire time, the older woman stood up to leave. In the doorway she paused and drew Quinn into a gentle hug.

"Please take care of her for me?" she asked softly and Quinn could hear the sorrow in her voice.

"I promise," she said.

Another sleepless night followed their encounter with Anabelle. Quinn vacillated between great delight that Beth was coming home and violent panic attacks when she became convinced that Anabelle was going to back out of the agreement or Oliver would refuse to sign the papers. Santana held her when she cried and tried to reassure her, but Quinn could tell that she too was clinging on by a thread.

Neither of them could stomach breakfast the following morning and they left the apartment far earlier than intended, arriving at the law firm almost half an hour before their appointment with Ethan. To their surprise, Anabelle was already there, looking as cool and sophisticated as she had the previous day in a pale grey skirt and a green shirt. Her eyes were red-rimmed and surrounded by dark shadows – it looked like she hadn't gotten a lot of sleep either. She embraced Quinn warmly, but Santana stood back, unable to let go of her misgivings until Beth was safely and permanently back in their arms.

The actual signing of the custody agreement was somewhat of an anti-climax. Ethan explained the clauses to the three of them, then Quinn and Anabelle signed and dated in all the places he pointed out. They faxed the agreement as planned to Oliver's lawyer and within minutes the completed agreement was back in Ethan's hands.

All they could do then was wait while a paralegal took the papers to a judge who owed Ethan a favour and had agreed to sign them before business hours. Less than an hour later, the paralegal was back with the finalized documents. Ethan checked over the forms one last time and then he set them down at looked up.

"Congratulations, Quinn," he said, his face breaking into a wide grin. "She's all yours."

"Thank you," Quinn whispered, barely able to speak as a flood of emotions threatened to overwhelm her. She met Anabelle's gaze and held it as a single tear spilled from her lashes and down her cheek. "Thank you."

Quinn and Santana walked hand-in-hand as they headed to Anabelle's hotel to pick up Beth. The older woman walked a few feet ahead of them, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. Quinn felt like her heart might literally explode out of her chest, and her head was spinning as she thought about the past twenty-four hours. She just wanted to see Beth and hold the little girl in her arms, to feel the softness of her skin and the silkiness of her blonde curls.

Anabelle didn't turn around until they reached the hotel foyer, and when she did her blue eyes were filled with tears.

"Before we go up to the room," she said, her voice hoarse and more tentative than Quinn had ever heard, "I'd like to share something with you, something which neither my husband nor my children know about, but it's another part of the reason why I came to you, and why I truly feel that Beth belongs with you." She paused to pull both Quinn and Santana away from the throng of people moving through the lobby, checking in or out of the hotel, or on their way out for a day of business meetings or sightseeing. They sat down in a large, open reception area and Quinn looked at Anabelle curiously.

The older blonde opened her purse and took out her wallet. From inside, she drew out an old and faded photograph, the edges creased from years of wear and tear. She handed the image, a tiny newborn wrapped in a pale blue blanket, to Quinn.

"When I was eighteen," she said softly, "and in my senior year of high school, I met a boy named Christopher. He was a mail room assistant in my father's firm. We fell in love, or at least I did, and one thing led to another. When I found out I was pregnant he panicked. He felt he was too young to be a father, I suppose. He didn't even say goodbye before he left town. My parents convinced me that to be eighteen and a single mother would be the end of my life, so I agreed to the adoption. The baby was born during summer vacation and I went off to college in the fall as though nothing had happened. No one other than my parents even knew I was pregnant. My friends all believed I'd been off vacationing in Europe for the summer. I only got to hold him for a minute before they took him away, and that photograph is the only physical proof I have of his existence. I didn't even get to name him." She smiled sadly. "I would have named him Steven." She said all of this in a far-away, dreamy kind of voice, her eyes fixed on the picture in Quinn's hand, but then she looked up at Quinn with shining eyes. "I didn't get a second chance with my baby, Quinn, and I miss him every day. At first, I thought that maybe Beth could make up for that - I had given away my child, and now here was a child desperately in need of a mother for me to raise. But I realized something," she told Quinn with a wry smile. "Beth wasn't meant to be my second chance, she's supposed to be yours. Hold on to her, Quinn, and never let her go again."

Quinn nodded, tears of sympathy welling up in her eyes.

"I promise," she murmured. She handed the photograph back to Anabelle, squeezing her hand tenderly in the process. Anabelle tucked it carefully back into her wallet, then stood up, smoothing out her skirt as she took a shaky breath to compose herself.

She offered Quinn a watery smile. "Let's go get your daughter."