Angel Unaware (23 page)

“Keeping an eye on that … mutt will be thanks enough.” Shaking her head, Gracie shimmered out while mumbling, “What in heaven’s name was he thinking?”

Thankful that at least one problem seemed to be on its way to a solution, Dora unlocked her door. If Penny came looking for her during the night, she wanted to be certain she was accessible. Dora flopped back on the bed and heaved a big sigh. It had been a very long day, and all she wanted right at the moment was sleep.

Retrieving her nightgown from the closet, she started for the bathroom. Then her bedroom door hinges creaked. Expecting it to be Penny, Dora was surprised to see Jack/Calvin slip around the door and into the room.

Jumping up on the bed, he turned to her.
I suppose you told Gracie
.

“Yes, but she’s promised not to tell the Council. She’s going to talk to the other angels and figure out how to get you out of here without hurting Penny.” Dora sat beside him. “What were you thinking when you did this, Calvin? You must have known you’d have to go back. Didn’t it occur to you that Penny would be heartbroken when her dog disappeared?”

To Dora’s utter shock, Jack’s ears folded back, and he lowered his head and relaxed his tail.
I’m afraid I wasn’t thinking about anything but making sure you didn’t… uh, make any mistakes
.

Her heart went out to him. He seemed genuinely repentant, but that didn’t solve their problem. Gently, she ran her hand over his head. “If I make mistakes, I’m the one who will have to answer for them.”

Oh, how I wish that were true
. Jack jumped to the floor and sauntered out of the room, defeat written clearly in his slumped posture.

Though Calvin didn’t believe it now, Dora would make sure he suffered no backlash for her failures.

The next morning found the Falcone household in an uproar. Everyone had overslept, and Penny had to be rushed from the house so she wouldn’t be late for school. So, along with a throbbing headache from lack of sleep, Tony had driven to work with his heart laboring under the burden a little girl had unwittingly placed on it.

Once at the office, everything seemed to go wrong. After Tony had spilled coffee on the floor and then dropped a pile of papers for the second time, Jake swung his chair around.

“Woman troubles?” he asked with a note of hopefulness in his voice.

Tony gave a mirthless laugh. “You wish, so you could pummel me with some more of your Dear Abby advice. I hate to disappoint you, but it’s not woman troubles. It’s little girl troubles.”

“Penny?”

Tony nodded, retrieved the scattered papers, and then sat on the edge of Jake’s desk. “Penny ran away last night.”

Jake sat up straighter. “Is she okay? Did you find her?” “She’s fine.” Tony laughed, this time with a little humor. “She ran next door to Millie’s house.”

“Next door?” His mouth quirked up at the corner. “Guess lack of imagination runs in the family.” Tony threw him a deprecating glance. “So, why did she run away?”

Not at all sure he wanted to share this bit of information, Tony changed the subject. “Matt’s sister, Lisa, showed up at the house. A few days later I got a letter from a lawyer. She wants custody of Penny.” Just the thought started his blood boiling again. “I have to go to a hearing at the courthouse.”

Jake blew out a gust of air. “You’re not going to let her take Penny, are you?”

“Damned straight, I’m not.”

“I play golf with a guy named Harry Jenkins. He’s a top-notch attorney, and he specializes in child custody cases. I’ll be seeing him at the church Christmas party this weekend. If you want, I’ll get his phone number for you.” “I’d appreciate it. I hadn’t even thought of getting a lawyer, but I’m sure I’ll need one.” Picking up a pencil from his foreman’s desk, Tony twirled it between his fingers. “Why the hell can’t life be simple, Jake?”

“Because if it were simple, it wouldn’t be any fun.” Tony laughed. “Well, if this is fun, then I hope I never have to come nose-to-nose with the part that isn’t.”

CHAPTER 18

A few tension-filled days after Penny ran away, Tony and Dora walked into the county courthouse, down the winding maze of halls and doors, and into the conference room.

Although he had no idea what to expect, the fact that the day was finally here came as a huge relief to Tony. The hearing had lain heavily on all their minds, and he knew living with him had been like living with a bear with a thorn in his paw. He’d barely spoken to anyone, and when he did, despite his best effort to be civil, his replies were curt and often sharper than necessary. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize his frayed nerves were on the very edge. The least little thing set him off, and it hadn’t escaped his notice that Penny and Dora had gotten into the habit of talking to him only when necessary and giving him a wide berth.

After deciding there was no need to worry the little girl, they’d kept everything from her. Dora had told her Tony and she were going to finish up their Christmas shopping when they left. Lying to her had not set well with Tony, but the alternative of upsetting Penny, perhaps without reason, held even less appeal.

Millie had said she’d pick Penny up at school and watch her until they got home. The last thing she’d said as they walked out the door was, “I have a good feeling about this.” But Tony could see in her eyes that she was as apprehensive as he and Dora.

Anything could happen today. Tony’s common sense told him that, but in his heart he prayed Millie’s words would prove prophetic. Certainly if he and Dora told the judge they loved Penny and she had a good life, the judge would see she was better off with them.

He’d spoken to Henry Jenkins, the lawyer Jake had arranged for him, and he’d assured Tony his chances of winning looked good. They’d drawn Judge Collier for the hearing, and she had a reputation of being stern but fair. But what worried him most was that Tony was a single man raising a little girl. Lisa and her husband constituted a complete family. Would that sway the judge’s decision in Lisa’s favor? Only time would tell.

The cold, unwelcoming room seemed to mock Tony with its starkness. Gray, metal filing cabinets stood side by side, filling one corner, and in the center a long, shiny, dark wood table surrounded by a dozen or so chairs waited for people who didn’t even know Penny, but who were about to decide her future.

Near the end of the table, a salt-and-pepper-haired man in an immaculate navy suit shuffled papers he’d taken from his briefcase. Beside him sat Lisa, her tailored suit shouting money, as did her professionally styled hair. The saccharin smile she offered Dora and Tony held as much sincerity as it had on the day she’d sat in Tony’s living room.

When the door
thunked
closed behind them, the sound echoed around the room. The man looked up, smiled, then rose with his hand extended to Tony. “Mr. Falcone?”

Tony shook it. “Yes.”

“I’m James Mayfield, Mrs. Randall’s attorney.” He gestured at Lisa, who, aside from the fake smile, made no move to acknowledge Tony and Dora’s presence. She turned away and stared stoically straight ahead. “Please, have a seat.” Mayfield pointed to the two chairs across from Lisa.

Tony had no desire to see Lisa until it was absolutely necessary and, if he could avoid it, not even then. “I think we’ll just wait outside for—”

“Tony! Sorry I’m late. Damned car wouldn’t start.” Both Dora and Tony turned toward the voice. Henry Jenkins had entered the room, a jovial smile curling his lips. It was the only thing that came close to matching Mayfield’s impeccable appearance. Henry’s black suit, while clean and pressed, displayed the sheen a well-worn suit acquires after years of use. One side of his off-white shirt collar curled up, and his light blue tie had a dark spot in the center that spoke loudly of an accident at lunch. His briefcase was scuffed and as worn as his suit, and his hair looked as though he’d just exited a wind tunnel. All in all, not a terribly impressive sight.

“Hello, Henry.” Tony stepped aside. “This is Dora DeAngelo, Penny’s nanny.”

Henry’s grin widened. “Miss DeAngelo, I’m so glad to meet you.” He pumped Dora’s hand, then moved to the end of the table opposite his well-groomed adversary. “Mayfield.” They shook hands.

Henry swung his briefcase onto the table. The catch popped open and papers slid in every direction over the highly polished table.

Everyone scrambled to retrieve them. Tony caught the this-is-going-to-be-a-piece-of-cake grin Mayfield flashed at Lisa. Taking a deep breath, Tony led Dora to a chair one seat away from Henry and took the empty seat between them.

While Henry struggled to right his papers, Tony sighed and bowed his head. Dora leaned close, laced her fingers with his, and squeezed. “It’ll be fine,” she whispered.

He sought her gaze and found understanding and compassion, but he also saw the same worry in her eyes that lay in a big lead ball his stomach. Just having her beside him made him feel better; he didn’t know what he would have done if he’d had to weather this alone.

Unwilling to upset her with his apprehension, he nodded. “I’m sure it will.”

The door at the side of the room opened, and a woman in a black robe entered. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, but I had a case to finish up and came straight here from the courtroom.”

She removed the robe and laid it over the back of her chair, then assumed the seat at the head of the table. Under the robe she wore a red blouse and a gray skirt. Without the formal garment of her office, she looked much less austere. She was middle-aged, and her auburn hair lay in soft waves over her shoulders.

She glanced at the people around the table. She had a heart-shaped, pleasant, somewhat plain face and a congenial smile. Her light-colored eyes were framed by dark-rimmed glasses that made her look like a small, curious owl. The smell of a flowery perfume drifted over the table from her direction.

A young man, presumably her court stenographer, followed her into the room carrying a small machine on which Tony assumed he’d record the proceedings. He took a seat at a smaller table near the window, away from the primary group, but within hearing distance.

As the judge shuffled the papers, Tony noted a gold wedding band on the third finger of her left hand. Would that make her more biased toward Penny having both a mother and a father figure? Doubts churned in his stomach like fan blades laboring to cool the air on a sultry day.

Glancing up from scanning the file that had awaited her on the table, she announced, “I’m Judge Collier.” She met the gaze of each person. “Everyone seems to be here, so let’s get started.” Again she consulted the file. “Penny Stevens is the child in question?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Henry said.

“And Mrs. Randall is seeking to remove the little girl from the custodial care of her uncle, Tony Falcone? Mr. Falcone has had legal custody of the child since the death of both her parents a little more than a year ago?” “That’s correct, Your Honor,” Mayfield said. “Your Honor, Mrs. Randall—”

Judge Collier stopped Mayfield’s words with a raised hand. “I’ll hear your arguments in a moment, Mr. Mayfield.” She continued to leaf through the papers.

Under the table, Dora squeezed Tony’s fingers so tightly he was certain the blood had stopped pumping through them. But he needed the reassurance of her touch and made no move to extract his hand from her painful grasp.

Finally, the judge laid the file aside and removed her glasses. “Mr. Mayfield?”

“Your Honor, my client feels that while Mr. Falcone’s intentions are good, the child is being deprived of certain things that she and her husband could more readily provide.”

The judge slipped on her glasses and once more studied the file. She removed her glasses and looked at Mayfield. “Such as?”

“Mr. Randall is a prosperous businessman in Texas and can provide a stable financial environment for the girl, send her to college, et cetera. It takes only a brief glance at Mr. Falcone’s financial records to see that there is no comparison between his finances and those of my client’s husband. Along with that is the fact Mr. Falcone is a bachelor, Judge, but with the Randalls the child would have a more … conventional home life, with the influence of both a mother and father.”

Tony’s heart dropped. That point was the only one he couldn’t fight. He had to pray the pluses in his favor would be enough.

“Your Honor,” said Henry, “Mr. Falcone has a full-time, live-in nanny, Miss DeAngelo” — he pointed at Dora — “who adores Penny.”

“But,” chimed in Mayfield, “Miss DeAngelo is not a permanent resident in the home. She is an employee who can leave at any time, or Mr. Falcone can fire her. Either way, her presence in the home is tenuous at best.” “I’m assuming that divorce is still a legal option in Texas, Mayfield,” said Henry. “If the Randalls decided to dissolve their marriage, then Penny would once more be with a single parent. There are no guarantees.”

Lisa glared indignantly at Henry. She opened her mouth, presumably to assure the judge she and her husband would not be getting divorced, but Mayfield silenced her with a hand on her shoulder.