Free Surprise Dad by Daly Thompson

been like the father Mike had never had.
    “He’ll be okay. Colleen’s holding the fort at the hospital and calling in with the news, Becky’s taken over the grill and the griddle, Maury’s filling the other orders and I’m waiting tables. We’ll have reinforcements by tomorrow morning.”
    “I’m coming back. I’ll be there in—”
    “No,” she said with a firmness that surprised him. “It looks as if you stayed up all night making things easy for Maury and Barney. Stay right there, and we’ll see you tomorrow night.”
    He wanted to argue with her, but he did have the guardianship to deal with. He needed to get this bump in his life leveled as soon as possible. Reluctantly, he agreed to monitor the situation by phone. Room service arrived, he ate dinner with a glass of wine, then stretched out on the bed and was asleep within five minutes.
     
    “M IKE ?” Ritter stepped into the hallway, held out a hand and gave Mike a solemn look that he probably meant to be comforting. When Mike nodded, Ritter said, “Before we go in, I wanted you to know that Celine’s parents would be here to meet you, but it seems tragedy begattragedy. Her father had a cranial bleed soon after hearing the bad news, and even if he lives, her mother will have a full-time job taking care of him.”
    So no parents, no grandparents. This kid wouldn’t have anybody but Mike.
    Feeling even more weighed down by responsibility, Mike followed Ritter into the conference room. A handful of people were already seated around an oval walnut table, and a few more drifted in. Representatives of charities Evan had supported? Devoted household help?
    A middle-aged woman, attractive but bitter-looking, joined the group. An ex-wife, maybe?
    “We’re all here now,” Ritter said ponderously as he opened a document and began to read.
    He read Celine’s will first. It was short and boilerplate, with no mention of her child. Next, Evan’s will. Gifts to several charities, as Mike had surmised. There were gifts to the devoted household help, most of whom cried when they heard the news. The bitter-looking woman had inherited a sum of money that made Mike’s head reel, probably a condition of their divorce.
    Then Ritter cleared his throat. “‘In the event that a minor child or children of whom I am the father should survive both my death and their mother’s, I appoint Mike Foster, currently residing at—’” and his address and phone number followed “—as the guardian of that child or children and also appoint said Mike Foster as trustee of any trust funds of said child or children, to be used at said Mike Foster’s discretion.’”
    So that was it. Without falling in love, without a mutual agreement with a wife to have a child, Mike had one, a child with trust funds.
    The rest of the morning went by in a blur of signingpapers and at last, the trip with Ritter to the Howard house to pick up Brian Marshall Howard and take him home to LaRocque.
    The “minor child” wasn’t a sad young boy. He was an eight-month-old baby.
    Already panicked, Mike couldn’t breathe. He wouldn’t be like a big brother to this infant, he’d be like a father! What did he know about being a father?
    Brian was half-asleep when the nanny—of course his father and Celine would have had a nanny—handed him over. Terrified, Mike peered down at the baby’s peaceful face, and Brian opened his eyes to gaze up at him.
    They were green. Carroty red hair like Mike had when he was a child. Pale skin, the kind that freckled.
    He looked just like Mike.

Chapter Five
    Mike parked his car behind the diner and shut off the engine. His nerves were shot. For what seemed like the thousandth time, he took a look at Brian.
    His brother. His baby .
    Throughout the trip, Mike had been afraid the baby would start crying, missing his parents, his nanny. Then, inexplicably, he’d find himself worrying when Brian was quiet for too long. Should he stop the car and check on him?
    It had