Secret Christmas Twins. Lee McClain Tobin
Teddy. She waved her hand toward the tree. “Pretty!” she said, and then her own throat tightened, remembering the silver foil tree she’d put up in Kimmie’s apartment. They’d taken a lot of photographs in front of it, Kimmie in her wheelchair holding the twins. Erica had promised to show the twins when they were older, so they’d know how much their mother had loved them.
The boys’ brown eyes grew round as they surveyed the sparkling lights and ornaments.
“Priiiiiy,” Mikey said, cocking his head to one side.
Erica had no time to get excited about Mikey learning another new word because Teddy started to scoot toward the tree, then rocked forward into an awkward crawl.
“Whoa, little man,” Jason said, intercepting him before he could reach the shining ornaments.
“Better put the ornaments higher up and anchor the tree to the wall,” Papa said. “It’s what we used to do for you and your sister. You were a terrible one for pulling things off the tree. One year, you even managed to climb it!”
Jason picked up Teddy and plunked him back down on the floor beside Mikey, but not before Erica had seen the red spots on the baby’s knees. “I need to get them some long pants,” she fretted. “Sturdy ones, if he’s going to be mobile.”
“Can you afford it?” Jason asked.
Erica thought of the stash of money Kimmie had given her. She’d spent more than half of it on the cross-country drive; even being as frugal as possible in terms of motels and meals, diapers didn’t come cheap. “I can afford some.”
Questions lurked in his eyes, but he didn’t give them voice.
Teddy rocked back and forth and got himself on hands and knees again, then crawled—backward—toward Mistletoe, who lay by the gas fire. Quickly, Jason positioned himself to block the baby if needed.
Mistletoe nuzzled Teddy, then gave his face a couple of licks.
Teddy laughed and waved his arms.
“Not very sanitary,” Papa commented.
“Oh, well,” Erica and Jason said at the same time.
From the kitchen came a buzzing sound and Erica realized it was her phone. She went in and grabbed it. An Arizona number. She walked back into the front room’s doorway and clicked to accept the call.
“Hello,” came an unfamiliar voice. “Erica Lindholm?”
“That’s me.”
“This is Ryan Finnigan. An old friend of Kimmie Stephanidis. Do you have a moment to talk?”
She looked at the twins. “Can you watch the boys?” she asked the two men.
Jason looked a little daunted, but Papa nodded and waved a hand. “Go ahead. We’ll be fine.”
She headed through the kitchen to the dining room. “I’m here.”
“I’m not only an old friend, but I’m Miss Stephanidis’s attorney,” the man said.
“Kimmie had an attorney?” Kimmie had barely been organized enough to buy groceries.
“Not exactly. The medical personnel who brought her to the hospital, after her overdose, happened to find one of my business cards and gave me a call. I went to see her, and we made a will right there in the hospital. None too soon, I’m afraid.”
She was glad to know that Kimmie had had a friend near and that she’d been under medical care, and said so.
“I did what I could. I was...rather fond of her, at one time.” He cleared his throat. “She let me know her wishes, and I was able to carry those out. But as for her estate...she’s left you her half of the Holly Creek Farm.”
“What?” Erica’s voice rose up into a squeak and she felt for the nearest chair and sat down.
“She’s left you half the farm her family owns. It’s a small, working farm in Western Pennsylvania. The other half belongs to her brother.”
“Half of Holly Creek Farm? And it’s, like, legal?”
“It certainly is.”
She sat a moment, trying to digest this news.
“I’m sure it’s a lot to take in,” the lawyer said after a moment. “Do you have any questions for me, off the top of your head?”
“Did Kimmie...” She trailed off, peeked through the kitchen into the front room to make sure no one could hear. “Look, is this confidential?”
“Absolutely.”
“Did she leave any instructions about her children?”
“Her children?”
“I take it that’s a no.” Oh, Kimmie, why would you provide for them with the farm, but not grant me guardianship?
“If Kimmie did have children...the most important thing would be that they’re safe, in an acceptable home.”
“Right. That’s right.” She didn’t want to admit to anything, but if he’d been fond of Kimmie at one time, as he’d mentioned, he would obviously be concerned.
He cleared his throat. “Just speaking hypothetically, if Kimmie had children and died without leaving any written instructions, they would become wards of the state.”
Erica’s heart sank.
“Unless...is there a father in the picture?”
“No,” she said through an impossibly dry mouth. Kimmie had told her that after abandoning her and the twins, the babies’ father had gone to prison with a life sentence, some drug-related theft gone bad.
“If there’s no evidence that someone like you—hypothetically—had permission to take her children, no birth certificates, nothing, then any concerned party could make a phone call to Children and Youth Services.”
“And they’d take the children?” She could hear the breathy fear in her voice.
“They might.”
“But...this is hypothetical. You wouldn’t—”
“Purely hypothetical. I’m not calling anyone. Now, even if the state has legal custody, if you have physical custody—and the children in question are doing well in your care—then the courts might decide it’s in the best interest of the children for you to retain physical custody.”
“I see.” It’s not enough.
“None of this might come up for a while, not until medical attention is needed or the children start school.”
Or early intervention. Erica’s heart sank even as she berated herself for not thinking it all through. “If it did come up...would there be some kind of hearing?”
“Yes, and at that time, any relative who had questions or concerns could raise them.” He paused. “It seems Kimmie had very few personal effects, but whatever there is will be sent to her family as soon as possible.”
Her hands were so sweaty she could barely keep a grip on the cell phone. “Thank you. This has been very helpful.”
“Oh, one more thing,” the lawyer said. “You’ll be wanting to know the executor of Kimmie’s will.”
“It’s not you?”
“No. I’m happy to help, of course, but if there’s a capable family member, I usually recommend that individual.”
Erica had a sinking feeling she knew where this was going. “Who is it?”
“It’s her brother. Jason Stephanidis.”