Baby Comes First Read online

  Baby Comes First

  By Beverly Farr

  Copyright 2012 Beverly Farr Giroux

  Smashwords Edition

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Rita Toews www.yourebookcover.com

  Cover image by: iofoto/Shutterstock.com

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EPILOGUE

  Note from the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  Hannah stood on shaky legs and walked out of the restroom stall. So that was morning sickness. It wasn’t as bad as she’d heard, but definitely not fun.

  She glanced at her reflection over the row of sinks, and winced. She looked terrible, but then fluorescent lighting was never flattering. Her hair was its normal bush of red curls -- no surprise there. She’d given up trying to control it years ago, and now kept it twisted back in a French knot, out of the way. Her face was too pale, making her freckles stand out more than usual. If she wore a little more lipstick, hopefully no one would notice how ill she was. Not that she should be concerned. Few people at the firm paid attention to anyone in the Data Processing Department. Not unless someone needed a floater.

  She tucked her crisp white blouse into the waistband of her straight navy skirt. Already the waistband seemed a little tight, or was that just wishful thinking? She smoothed the lapels on her suit jacket, and smiled.

  It was all worth it. She didn’t care if she spent the rest of her pregnancy vomiting. She was going to have a baby.

  At last.

  All her life she’d wanted to get married and have a family, but as her thirty-sixth birthday came and went, she finally faced the facts.

  No one was interested.

  Maybe it was her hair. Maybe she was too awkward. Maybe she was too quiet. But whatever the reason, she didn’t have to sit around feeling sorry for herself. This was the twenty first century, full of opportunity. She found a sperm bank, filled out the forms, paid her money, and now she was going to have a baby.

  Be a mother.

  It was all so wonderful. Hannah felt like shouting and telling the whole world, but she would wait until her pregnancy was obvious.

  The only sad part was that she couldn’t tell her mother. She wouldn’t understand. But there was always hope that some day she might enjoy being a grandmother.

  Smiling, Hannah returned to her gray walled work station. “Cubicle, sweet cubicle” read the cross stitch sampler above her computer monitor.

  “What’s up?” her neighbor Jessica asked. “You look like you just won the lottery.”

  Hannah shrugged. “Just having a good day, I guess.”

  Later that morning, she was busy transcribing an appellate brief when Ms. Dulane, the Human Resources Director emailed her. She wanted to talk to her for a few minutes.

  Hannah walked quickly down the corridors, her high heeled pumps quiet on the carpeted floor. She hoped she wasn’t going to be laid off. There hadn’t been any rumors of problems, and as far as she knew, Thompson, Baker and Myers was doing well, but the legal profession was not as stable as it had been twenty years before. It seemed as if every few months, some large firm in Dallas disbanded. At her last position, she’d been let go when the firm lost its largest corporate client. “You’ve done excellent work,” she was told, “but unfortunately ‘last hired, first fired.’”

  This would be the absolutely worst time for her to go job hunting. With a baby on the way, she needed health insurance. At least it wasn’t November, she thought, trying to be positive. Last time she was laid off, it had been the week before Thanksgiving, and no one thought about hiring until early January. She’d eaten beans and rice for a month.

  “Have a seat,” Ms. Dulane said pleasantly. She was a small, wiry woman with frosted blonde hair and a practiced smile. She had worked for Thompson, Baker, and Myers for more than thirty years and anything she didn’t know about the law firm wasn’t worth knowing.

  Ms. Dulane looked somber. Maybe she was getting fired, Hannah thought. Her mind raced, reviewing the past month’s work. Had she offended anyone, or not done her job properly?

  Ms. Dulane said, “When you were hired two years ago, you said you were interested in becoming a legal secretary assigned to one of the partners.”

  Hannah nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Well, there’s an immediate opening. With Luke Jamison.”

  “Oh no.” Hannah sucked in her breath sharply, hoping the director hadn’t heard her exclamation.

  “Then you know him.”

  “No, not at all,” she said quickly. “Of course I’ve seen him in the halls, and I heard about his last big trial, but no -- I don’t know him.” Shut up, you’re rambling. Don’t make things worse.

  The director watched her closely. “No doubt you’ve heard the office gossip.”

  That he eats secretaries for lunch? “Yes, I mean, no, not much. I try not to.”

  “Good for you.” Ms. Dulane leaned forward in her chair. “He’s not as bad as some of the stories paint him. He’s stern, but he’s fair. Are you interested in applying for the position?”

  No. She couldn’t work for him. She would work for anyone -- Attila the Hun, Jack the Ripper -- anyone but Luke Jamison. Striving for outward calm, she said, “I’d have to think about it.”

  “Think fast. He wants to interview three secretaries this afternoon and have someone start tomorrow.”

  Apparently he was as impatient with Human Resources as he was with his secretaries.

  “Just so you know,” Ms. Dulane added in a quiet voice as if she suspected the walls of being wired for sound, “The firm pays his secretaries more than the other partners. We consider it hazard duty.”

  A raise would be nice, but Hannah had no intention of working for Mr. Jamison. Rapidly she considered her options. If she refused to interview with him, it might come back to haunt her. Law firms liked their employees to be team players. She couldn’t afford to be a prima donna. “I’ll interview with him,” she said, ignoring the twist of fear in her stomach.

  I’ll just make sure I don’t get the job.

  #

  Luke Jamison looked at the resume before him. Hannah Hansen. What a ridiculous name. He hoped this woman was at least moderately suitable. The other two applicants had been hopeless. The Human Resources Director said that unless he wanted to interview outside the firm, with the accompanying delay and inconvenience, he was stuck with one of these women.

  He didn’t know why it was so difficult to find and keep a secretary these days. His last secretary had lasted only three weeks. “And if you lose this next one, you’ll have to work with someone from the temp agency,” Ms. Dulane had warned.

  She made it sound as if he deliberately set out to alien
ate these women.

  He walked out of his office into the reception area.

  Ms. Hansen sat in one of the black leather chairs, her hands clenched in her lap. She was pale, with wisps of red hair that curled around her ears. He’d always liked red hair.

  “Ms. Hansen?” he called.

  She flinched at the sound of her name -- not a good sign. He didn’t need another shrinking violet. His last secretary had been the weepy type.

  She stood up. Taller than average, about five-nine. Nice legs, from what he could see of them below a navy suit that did nothing for her. Not that he cared what his secretaries looked like, but he was a man, and on some level, he still noticed.

  She approached. “Mr. Jamison,” she said, taking his hand in a surprisingly firm handshake. “I understand you need a new secretary.”

  She had a low voice. Good. Chirpy little high-pitched voices in the morning were irritating. But he was taken aback by her manner. She had the poise, the assurance of a woman twice her age. She acted as if she were some grande dame honoring him with her presence. He brushed the thought away. She was merely confident. He admired that in a woman. “Yes. Come to my office.”

  “I’ve seen your office,” she said briskly. “And I’d rather sit out here, if you don’t mind.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her tone. Confidence was one thing, insolence was another. “I do mind.”

  “Fine, you’re the boss,” she said calmly.

  He opened the door.

  “Ah, just as I remembered it,” she muttered, as she walked inside.

  “You’ve been here before?”

  She sat in the chair opposite his large oak desk without waiting to be offered a seat. She crossed her legs. Yes, he’d been right. Definitely nice legs. He forced himself to pay attention to what she was saying.

  “Yes, once I helped your previous secretary -- Teresa, was it? -- find a phone number you’d written on a piece of paper.”

  Teresa was three secretaries ago, but she didn’t need to know that.

  She eyed the room with distaste, her forehead furrowed, and ran a slim finger along the edge of his desk as if testing for dust.

  He glanced around his office, seeing it with new eyes. It was a large room with floor to ceiling glass windows that looked out over downtown Dallas. The furniture, although elegant, was covered with stacks of paper. There were a few piles on the floor as well.

  So it was a little disorganized. So what? After being married twelve years to a compulsive house-cleaner, he enjoyed having a more relaxed office environment. And as one of the firm’s most productive partners, he could do what he liked.

  “I’m surprised you don’t lose more things in this mess,” Ms. Hansen continued in a conversational tone. “Like exhibits, important documents, dead bodies ...”

  Luke choked back a laugh, half amused, half amazed by her chutzpah. She was unlike any secretary he’d ever seen. “I know where everything is,” he said, surprised by the note of defensiveness in his voice.

  “Then you must have the memory of an elephant. No doubt that helps with your trial work.”

  This interview was getting out of control. He picked up her resume, determined to take charge of the conversation. “Your skills are adequate,” he said coolly, not wanting to compliment her. “You have a good turn around record in Data Processing. But I see that you’ve worked for three different law firms in the last ten years.”

  “Yes.” She made no further comment and gave no explanation.

  “May I ask why you’ve moved around so much?”

  She smiled, but it was more a matter of baring her teeth. The smile did not reach her light blue eyes. “I merely found better positions and took them.”

  He couldn’t ask point blank if she’d been fired. “No problems?” he asked.

  “None to speak of.” She leaned forward. “But I understand you have trouble keeping secretaries, Mr. Jamison. What seems to be your problem?”

  He bristled. Who was conducting this interview? “I don’t have a problem. The secretaries have the problem. No one wants to do what they’re paid for.”

  #

  Hannah smiled inwardly. Score another point for her. Luke Jamison was no longer annoyed with her, he was angry. Like any good trial attorney, he kept his face expressionless, but his dark brown eyes glared at her like a tiger.

  It really was a shame, Hannah thought, observing him with detachment, that such a handsome man couldn’t be more pleasant. He was tall, at least six foot three, with broad shoulders, and thick dark hair. He dressed well, he was intelligent, he earned a good income. With all that going for him, he should be happy, but he wasn’t a happy man. Driven, perhaps. But, she reminded herself, that was not her concern.

  Her only concern was for the health and welfare of her baby. And that meant not working for Luke Jamison.

  The million-dollar question was: how offensive could she be before he threw her out of his office? She didn’t want to make a scene, because that could hurt her work record at the law firm, but she wanted to be certain he didn’t hire her.

  She held his gaze without flinching. She asked, “And what exactly do you require in a secretary?”

  “Punctuality for starters. My workday begins at eight a.m. and I’d expect yours to, as well. Not eight ten or eight twenty, but eight a.m.”

  She nodded. “Fine with me. Just as long as my day ends on time.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  His question, although politely worded, shot forth like a bullet. Hannah was glad she didn’t have to face this man from the witness chair. No wonder he was so successful. She took a deep breath. “I don’t work overtime,” she said simply, hoping that lightning wouldn’t strike her for lying. “My hours are eight to five, with an hour lunch. No more, no less.”

  His voice rose. “That’s unreasonable. What if there is an emergency?”

  “If an emergency comes up, and by emergency I mean something that you could not have foreseen, not just poor time management on your part, –-” His eyes widened at this insult, “I am willing to stay late. But then I will require some comp time to make up for it. If you need additional help after five o’clock in the evening, I would be happy to contact someone in Data Processing and arrange for a floater.”

  He stared at her in amazement.

  “Also, I don’t travel. You’ll need to find someone else for your out-of-town cases.”

  For a moment she thought he was going to explode. As far as she knew, at Thompson, Baker, and Myers all the partners’ secretaries traveled when required.

  “Anything else I should know?” he asked finally, through clenched teeth.

  If he had a heart attack, could she be held liable for inciting it? “Yes. I’m not your surrogate wife.”

  “Sleeping with me is not part of the job description.” His words were like ice.

  Another direct hit. Hannah smiled. She was beginning to enjoy herself. She’d never had so much fun in a job interview. It was exhilarating. “I wasn’t referring to sex,” she said smoothly. “What I meant to say is that I’m not your housekeeper or a maid.” She ticked off the list on her fingers. “I don’t make coffee. I don’t pick up your dry cleaning or make sure your utilities are paid. I don’t buy presents for your mother, your wife, your kids, or your girlfr--”

  “What exactly do you do?” he interrupted coolly.

  “I handle your correspondence, motions and responses, keeping track of them on computer and disc. I file the paperwork. I coordinate your schedule and court calendar. I make travel arrangements. I schedule meetings.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence, as they stared at each other, taking each other’s measure. Hannah raised her chin. Maybe Luke Jamison did eat secretaries for lunch, but he was not going to eat her.

  Finally, he stood. “I don’t think we should waste any more time with this interview.”

  Hannah also stood, relieved. “I agree.” She held out her hand. “It was nice meeting you,” she
lied. “I hope you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

  He took her hand in his firm, capable grasp. “But I have. You.”

  Hannah felt the room sway. “What?”

  “I respect a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it.” He smiled grimly. “Too many people in this world expect everyone else to read their minds. If they’d just be honest and speak up, everyone would be a lot happier.”

  She sensed that he was talking about more than a simple job interview, but her mind wasn’t thinking clearly. Work for Luke Jamison? It was impossible.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow at eight-o’clock, then.”

  “Eight o’clock,” Hannah said weakly. Somehow, in spite of her shock, she made it back to her cubicle in one piece.

  Jessica glanced over the cubicle wall. She said, “What happened? You look terrible. Like you’re going to be sick. Are you okay?”

  Hannah sank into her swivel chair. “No, I’m not. I’m Luke Jamison’s new secretary.”

  “You poor thing. I filled in for him once about six months ago, and I vowed, ‘never again.’ I misspelled the name ...”

  Hannah didn’t listen to the rest of her friend’s story. It was impossible to pay attention. Her head pounded and she rubbed her forehead, as if that could make the stress headache go away. What am I going to do now?

  She shouldn’t work for him, she couldn’t, but she had to. Either that, or get a new job, and she couldn’t afford to take financial risks with a baby on the way.

  Luke Jamison’s baby.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “I never did like the sperm bank idea,” Christine commented.

  Hannah sat in a lawn chair in her next door neighbor’s back yard, watching her friend’s two little girls, age four and eighteen months run around on the grass, play in the sandbox, and climb on a huge rainbow colored plastic climbing toy. Hannah sipped her iced tea, enjoying the evening breeze. April was one of the best months in Dallas – the weather was warm without being too hot. She said, “I know. You thought I should do it the old fashioned way, but there weren’t any volunteers.”