Inside the office, we were introduced to our "case coordinator." Conrad Soukis was one of the two employees who could pass for Fenniger's contact. The description, sadly, fit an entire legion of men best categorized as "middle-aged pencil-pushers." Soukis was roughly Jack's age, but with none of his edge, none of his physical power, none of his – I hate to say it – virility. Average height, receding hairline, scrawny but with a paunch, and the bland, pasty face of someone who spent his days basking in the glow of a computer screen.
Soukis sat us down and started with a description of the agency's services. He sped through them, probably recognizing the look that said he wasn't telling us anything we didn't already know. Then it was time to find out more about us, our expectations and our situation.
We wanted children – that much was obvious. We'd been trying since our marriage. At first, I'd blamed the difficulties on passing thirty, moving farther from my prime childbearing years. But last year, a barrage of fertility tests revealed the real problem: my husband's low sperm count.
When Jack and I devised the plan, I'd been perfectly willing to take the medical blame for the Abbotts' inability to reproduce, but as Jack pointed out, "low sperm count" was a simple concept that didn't require an in-depth explanation, and he knew a way he could use it to our advantage.
So we played our stereotypical roles. The teacher wife did all the explaining, being very careful to couch the fertility issue as "our" problem while her silent, rough-mannered husband struggled not to squirm, clearly uncomfortable with the subject and with the disappointment of being to blame for not giving his younger wife the baby she longed for.
I talked about my situation – how I'd always imagined I'd have children, and became a teacher out of love for little ones, but as my twenties slipped past, I'd come to accept that the "minivan and 2.5 kids" lifestyle wasn't in my future.
"Then I met Wayne," I said, beaming at Jack. "At first, I figured if we did get serious, kids would be out of the question. If he'd wanted them, he'd have had them with his first wife. But I wanted him, not a baby-maker. I wouldn't have even raised the issue, but then – " Another broad, loving smile. " – he did, and he wanted a child, so it was perfect."
Jack nodded. "My first wife, she didn't want kids, which was okay. I was busy with my business and, besides, it wasn't – " He cleared his throat. " – it wasn't a good marriage. I didn't want to bring kids into it. This time – " Another throat clearing, obvious embarrassment at discussing his marriage with a stranger. "It's different."
Soukis moved on to our requirements. As for gender, we had no preference. Same with age, so long as the child was under a year. But race? That was another story.
"It doesn't matter to me at all," I said. "A baby is a baby." I snuck an anxious look at Jack, who nodded a "same here," but without conviction. "But where we live… that's the problem. Wayne's business is there, so we won't be leaving anytime soon, and the town is very… racially homogeneous."
"White," Jack said.
"As someone who works with children, I know firsthand that it doesn't matter how accepting the parents are. If the surrounding society isn't as accepting, it can be very difficult for the child. So we'd need to have a, uh – " I dropped my gaze as if in shame. "Caucasian baby. Other wise, we'd have pursued international adoption."
"That will make it harder," Soukis said.
My gaze dropped another fraction as I added a mournful "I know."
Jack reached over to squeeze my hand.
Soukis asked a few more questions, then explained the next steps. If no complications arose in the background check and home study, we'd be put on the waiting list, but with our "requirement," it would probably be a three-year wait, maybe longer.
I let my disappointment seep out while Jack squeezed my hand and whispered words of support and reassurance. Then he asked me to give him a moment alone with Soukis, just to run over some of the financial details again. He stayed behind in the office, and shut the door all but a crack, so I'd hear their voices.
As I left, I realized our late-day appointment came with a huge bonus. The agency's workday must have ended at five and, being a Monday, no one was keen to stay late, so by 5:15 the office was empty.
I started in the reception area. My gaze kept sliding to the dual temptations of the filing cabinet and computer, but I needed more time with them. I concentrated on figuring out how Jack and I could safely break in.
I zoomed through the front room, having already gotten a decent overview when we'd been admitted. No alarm system. No camera. Just a regular lock and dead bolt, like the street-level door.
I quickly moved on to the office. I could hear Jack and Soukis, their voices muffled and low, but still audible.
"Deb doesn't know about any of that," Jack was saying. "I'm not hiding it from her. There's just no reason to bring it up now, right? Ancient history. The credit stuff, well, it comes with the territory, starting a business. The assault was a bar fight that got out of hand when I was a stupid kid. And the DUI ten years ago… I wasn't a kid, but still stupid, you know? The divorce and the stress at work… It's all in the past and none of it has anything to do with Deb, but I'm worried it's going to hurt our chances of adopting a kid."
"It could."
"Shit."
"In fact, I hate to say it, but it almost certainly will."
Their voices faded as I moved into the farthest office. There were four offices in total – five employees, including the receptionist. None of the doors had locks. The filing cabinets did, but they'd be easily picked, the sort that only stopped someone casually trying to peek inside.
The computers would be the biggest stumbling block. I could download e-mail and data files onto a flash drive, but that was the extent of my knowledge… and I was pretty pleased with myself for knowing that much. If the operating system was password protected, I was screwed. I'd have to check with Evelyn and see whether she knew a way to bypass it to grab files. Another charge for my tab.
The voices surged louder as I moved to the office across the hall.
"I get their reasoning," Jack was saying, "but I'm not the same guy now. Deb's the best damned thing that ever happened to me. She'd make a great mom, and if she can't have a kid because of me, first because of this… sperm thing, and now because of shit I did before I met her…" His voice trailed off.
"I understand."
"Do you?" Despair tinged Jack's voice. "I love that woman. The only thing I want is for her to be happy. I'll do whatever it takes to see that happen. Do you get that?"
"I'm not sure…"
"Hell, I don't know what I'm asking. Just, you know, some way to grease the wheels."
"If you mean anything illegal…"
"Not that. I wouldn't – " A short, embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, I would. Hell, there's not much I wouldn't do to make her happy, you know? But this is a completely legit business and I get that. I just thought, you know, sometimes there are ways… around stuff."
Their voices fell again as I hurried back to the main room, knowing Jack's talk was coming to a close. He'd planted the seeds. If they bore fruit, it wouldn't be tonight.