Angel City

Excerpt:
R.J. leaned back in his tufted leather chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. "What did you find out, Martin?"

His assistant sat opposite the Chippendale desk, and opened a manila envelope, withdrawing a few sheets of typed information.

"The Hemsdale Day Care Center is owned and operated by Miss Carol Bakker...”

Carol Bakker? R.J. repeated to himself. That was the woman from Brad’s party. An odd little twinge hit him low in the stomach as Martin handed him a small photograph. He never thought he’d see her again and he’d been rather disappointed at the notion. But now…

He reined in his straying thoughts, then concentrated on his assistant’s words. He was quite anxious to know more about Miss Bakker.

“Miss Bakker has been connected with the center for close to fifteen years since her junior year in high school when she began to work there on a part time basis. She was made a full partner in the center five years ago, and assumed sole ownership upon the accidental death of Mrs. Sheila Jackson, the center’s founder.

The day care center is an important part of the neighborhood, especially to those employed at Arnco. Miss Bakker provides ten hours of care and three meals five days a week, and an additional six hours care and two meals on Saturdays.

Her fees for these services are unprofitably low, keeping pace with what her clients can comfortably afford to pay. The center is state certified and has had no complaints filed against it in its history. Clients of the center have nothing but glowing comments for Miss Bakker and her staff.”

David Martin returned the report to its envelope then gave it to his employer.

"Martin, when you meet the architect at Arnco later this morning, I want you to register Alexandra in Miss Bakker's day care center." He turned his attention to a sheaf of computer printouts to his right, but looked up when he did not hear the office door open. "Get going, Martin. I don't pay you to stand there gawking at me."

"But...but, sir.... Are you certain that you want your daughter there? It is not the best neighborhood."

"I'm perfectly aware of that, Martin. You gave me that information before I purchased Arnco. I plan to spend a good deal of my time on site, restructuring that company and I would like to have my daughter close by."

"But surely, Mr. Mansfield, a private nursery school—"

R.J. dismissed him with a wave. "I told you what I want, Martin. See that it gets done."

~

Carol leaned against the battered oak desk in her cramped office, her arms folded in front of her. "How old is your daughter, Mr. Martin?" she asked, hoping she was concealing her surprise. Most of her clients were single working mothers, not well-heeled business types.

"She isn't my daughter, Miss Bakker. Alexandra is the only child of my employer, R.J. Mansfield. I'm sure you've heard of him."

Carol simply nodded. It couldn’t be, could it? It couldn’t be that Mansfield. But it had to be. Carol willed her mind to stop racing and nodded.

"The Mansfield name is familiar." She studied the man before her, sensing his unease behind his affable expression. "I may be speaking out of turn, Mr. Martin, but I have the feeling that you don't agree with your boss's decision to have his daughter enrolled here."

David flashed her a benign smile. "I hope you won't take this the wrong way, Miss Bakker, but Alexandra Mansfield has spent her four and a half years in the care of a highly trained nanny. She isn't used to being in the company of other children."

Carol gritted her teeth. She didn't need a master's degree in early child development to know that a highly trained nanny wouldn't isolate a child from her peers. "What you mean is that Alexandra Mansfield isn't used to being in the company of poor or minority children."

David Martin took his time in answering. "Frankly, yes."

Carol frowned. "There's no point in going further with this. I have a lot of work to do."

"Please, Miss Bakker. I didn't mean to offend you and I assure you that the opinion was solely my own. In fact, Mr. Mansfield was quite adamant that Alexandra be enrolled here. He has business in the area and caught a glimpse of you and your charges. Apparently, that was all the recommendation he needed to make his decision."

Carol didn't offer a reply. She couldn’t if she’d wanted to; her thoughts were a blur and part of her felt strange, almost disappointed. "I'll have to speak with one or both of Alexandra's parents, Mr. Martin," she said finally. "There are forms to fill out, fees to discuss, that sort of thing." Carol went around to the back of her desk and rummaged through one of the drawers.

"I have the authorization to enroll Alexandra. Mrs. Mansfield was killed in an auto accident three years ago and Mr. Mansfield is a very busy man."

Carol looked up. "Too busy to meet with the person who will taking care of his child?" She frowned when David Martin nodded in reply. "If Mr. Mansfield can't take twenty minutes to fill out a few simple forms and—"

"I believe I have what you need, Miss Bakker."

Carol took the papers the dark haired executive produced from his leather brief case. The information she needed to enroll Alexandra Mansfield was there, and then some.

There was a release form for outdoor activities, a permission slip valid until the end of the year for any off campus field trips, a detailed immunization report and personal health record, and a record of the child's current daily routine, along with a brief developmental evaluation. Each page had been notarized, witnessed, and bore the bold signature of R.J. Mansfield.

Carol set the papers down, glad that she hadn't brought out the simple photocopied forms she generally used. Next to these documents they looked like discarded facial tissues. "I would like to discuss the fee with Mr. Mansfield...." Carol's voice trailed off as David Martin withdrew a blank check and a gold pen from the inside breast pocket of his silk suit.

"I've been instructed to give you a month's payment advance in addition to any flat registration fee you might have." David set the check on his brief case. "Name your price, Miss Bakker."

Carol sat in her squeaky swivel chair. "I usually base my fees on the family's income and expenditures, but I think it's safe to assume that Mr. Mansfield is above the top end of the scale. The most I've ever charged was five hundred dollars a month, although I know of other centers that charge quite a bit more." She paused. "I'd like eight hundred dollars, but I'm willing to negotiate."

"Eight hundred, per month?"

Carol frowned and came around the front of her desk. "Some of my parents are lucky to get that much in their take home pay, but if you think it's asking too much—"

David Martin laughed and quickly made out the check. "Forgive me. We rather expected you to charge more considering Mr. Mansfield's financial position."

"I have no intention of gouging your boss because he can afford it, Mr. Martin," Carol informed him before taking the check.

"I'll be sure to tell Mr. Mansfield of your integrity," David said as he stood. "Someone from the office will be in touch about the exact day Alexandra will begin. She flew in from Europe just last night and I'm sure it will take a few days for her to adjust to the time change."

Carol walked David Martin outside to his waiting limousine, a myriad of doubts swirling around her head. There was something very strange about all of this and yet, she was already looking forward to welcoming a new child into her "family".

And getting that chance to meet Mansfield again? A tiny voice asked from deep inside. Carol ignored it and cleared her throat.

"It might be wise for someone to stay with Alexandra the first day or so. Some children are a little afraid to be in a large group until they get used to the other kids. Perhaps her father—"

"I doubt that Mr. Mansfield will be able to take time away from his business affairs. Alexandra's nanny will no doubt accompany her." David waited until the chauffeur opened the door for him.

"Please tell Mr. Mansfield that I need to meet him personally as soon as possible. I make it a point to know the parents of all the children in my care."

"I'll give Mr. Mansfield your message, but..."

"He's a very busy man," Carol finished, as the chauffeur closed the door. David Martin nodded through the tinted window.

Carol watched the limo pull away as she began to form a new opinion of R.J. Mansfield. It was much less pleasant than the first.

~

The color drained from Terry's rouged cheeks, and Carol immediately felt her friend's forehead. "You aren't sick again, are you?"

"No, but do you know what you just said?"

Carol tugged on the hem of her skimpy waitress uniform. "I said that I'm getting a new kid at the center. Her father is some big-shot businessman named R.J. Mansfield."

Terry shook her head in disbelief and cleared some discarded clothing from a vinyl chair. "R.J. Mansfield isn't just a big-shot, he's one of the biggest big-shots of all, my dear." She pointed to the chair. "Sit."

Carol sat while Terry began rummaging around the communal dressing room. One of the other strippers came in.

"Hey! That's my stuff! What are you doing?"

"Stealing your padded bra," Terry quipped as she stood on tiptoe and began to search the closet shelf. "Do you still have that magazine with the 'Sexiest Men Alive' article?"

Suzi picked up the magazine, which was on the floor at Terry's feet and covered by a pair of lacy panties. "Time to put on the bifocals, granny."

Terry grinned. "Thirty-six is closer than you think, babe." She thumbed through the magazine until she found the page she sought, then walked over to Carol. "Has Wall Street's boy genius rebounded from the tragic death of his wife to regain his place at the top of the American corporate ladder, or is R.J. Mansfield a has-been at the age of thirty-nine?" Terry gave the magazine to Carol. "It's from last year, but he probably hasn't changed that much."

Suzi looked over Carol's shoulder. "Hey, I know that guy."

"So do I," Carol said quietly. "He’s the guy I told you about, the one from the bachelor party. The one who tried to give me the two hundred bucks."

"And you didn't take it! That's chump change to someone like him!"

Suzi nudged Carol. "This guy is out front. He wants to see you. That's what I came in here to tell you."

Carol gasped. He was here? To see her? "No, no, no. Tell him I'm not here."

Terry pulled Carol to her feet. "You get out there, girl. Now!"

"But, but—"

"But nothing. Go!"

Terry shoved Carol out the dressing room door and latched it from the inside.