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“No, not her.” Laura shook her head, then gestured toward a crib against the back wall. “Her.”
Dexter frowned heavily at Laura, not very happy about the situation, but nevertheless went over and peered into the crib. Inside was the smallest baby he had ever seen. Granted, she was the only baby he had ever seen. She had the tiniest fingers, the tiniest legs, and the tiniest nose. Her big blue eyes looked up at him with untainted innocence. Her small unadulterated view of the world was marred by the ironic twist of reality surrounding her.
When he turned back to Laura, his face was the usual grim mask he continually wore. “Yours?”
She made a face but shook her head nevertheless. “Her name's Chantal. At four months, she's our youngest runaway.”
He glanced at the girl on the bed. “Are you the mother?”
The girl shook her head. “I'm Jenny Fallon, Darcy's roommate. I'm babysitting while she's out job hunting.”
“No luck, eh?” Laura addressed the girl.
She grimaced and shook her head.
“And Darcy is—?”
“The mother. Her parent's refuse to allow her to return home. They didn't accept their daughter's pregnancy.”
Dexter frowned. “But she's only a baby. How could they allow their own grandchild to live like this?”
Laura shook her head agreeing. “I don't know. But that isn't my job. I can't solve their home problems. What I deal with is the teens and their outlook on the situation. Hopefully, it all comes together and we have a successful reunion. If not, they will always have a home here with me.”
“You're willing to take that much on? For people who are virtually strangers to you.”
“They don't remain strangers for long.” She smiled at Jenny. “Besides, it's nice to know I'm doing something of worth. Even in a small way.”
He stared at her for a long time. His features were intense, yet bland and unreadable. Laura had no idea what was going through that somber head of his.
At last he turned away. “It was nice meeting you, Jenny. If you'll excuse us.”
“Sure, no problem,” the girl chirped.
Laura followed Dexter out of the room, down the flight of stairs and to the front corridor entrance. He stopped to turn and face her. “I can find my own way back to my car. Thank you for the use of your phone.”
“Wait.” She reached out to stall him. “What do you think? I mean about the shelter and all?”
He stared at the warm hand on his arm and frowned. “I've tried to explain. Britten Investments does not put their money into just any little organization that needs funding. We have to thoroughly research it and decide we are creating an asset not a debit. You need some kind of equity, Laura. By all accounts, you haven't shown me anything of substantial worth. In short, the market value of your home, the shelter, does not exceed its liable debts. You could be looking for a loan of some sort, but again, the principal and interest would be in excess to what you could actually repay. So we have no income.” He ticked off his finger. “No earnings, no capital gains, and no profit. It is the proceeds from all of these which Britten Investment makes it revenue. Without them, there most definitely could not be a business transaction between our company and yours.”
Her expression turned melancholy as she stared down at the floor, arms crossed over her chest. “It's all dollars and cents to you, isn't it?”
He sighed heavily. “I'm sorry, but I’m afraid so.”
Dexter was glad she wasn't looking at him because for the first time in years, he had uncanny urge to reach out and comfort. It was an emotion that both startled and frightened him, because along with this territory came the caring. Turning swiftly from her despondent form he reached the front door and swung it open. Thankfully the rain outside had ceased.
Behind him, Laura heard another mumble of thanks, then he was gone. She stared after his figure, allowing his words of finance and equity to sink in. Not a word of sympathy or compassion, he refused to see faces attached to business transactions.
With a defeated sigh, she at last turned from the door and acknowledged that maybe he was right. After all, he wasn't the only company to turn her down flat. He made it all too simple to put the blame on him, but being honest she knew that wasn't fair. No matter how much it hurt to admit, his words rang true. She had more liabilities than she did assets. Her organization's only profit was in the heart of those young girls.
Starting tomorrow she would change her course of action and search for a new method for receiving financial backing. Giving a smug snort, she allowed herself the satisfaction of knowing she would be doing it without Dexter O'Reilly's help.
* * *
A week later, she stood in front of his desk at Britten Investment and Financial Group, looking down at his unsmiling face. “I need your help.”
“Now what?”
“Well, I took your advice and decided I needed a new resource for raising money.”
