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Ty’s opulent home in openmouthed awe.
    Emily had to admit that, even though it was clear from the packing crates stacked in tidy piles that Ty was still moving in, his home was awesome. Carmen was right. This house was California living at its best.
    Ty stopped and stared. “What’s wrong with her?”
    “She has a virus of some sort, I think.”
    “No. I mean, why is she talking that way?”
    “You mean, Spanish?”
    “Spanish?” Ty moaned. “She speaks Spanish? ”
    “Well, she is Mexican.”
    “Oh, great.” He slapped his forehead with an open palm and muttered again under his breath. “A Spanish-speaking daughter. That’s rich. Roxanne will probably just die laughing.”
    What was this about a daughter? Emily wondered, tightening her grip on Carmen’s little hand. This man and his wife wanted a daughter? She didn’t know who this Roxanne woman was, but she certainly didn’t sound like mother material.
    Ty was still staring in shock at Carmen. “Never mind,” he finally grumbled. “I didn’t get where I am today by not being able to figure out a problem as simple as a foreign language.” Again he tore through his hair with frenzied hands. “You say she has a virus of some sort?” he asked, his hands suddenly stilling in his now-spiky hair.
    Trying not to stare at the havoc he’d wreaked on his head, Emily met his eyes and saw genuine concern there. “I don’t know, exactly. Late last night she had a temperature. At least, she felt warm to me. She’s been sneezing and coughing for several days, and I’m afraid that if she doesn’t get some antibiotics, it could get a lot worse.”
    Tyler rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We’ve got a company doctor at Connstarr who will make house calls for employees. As soon as I get you settled, I’ll give him a call.”
    “Thanks.” Emily sighed as Carmen sleepily rubbed her eyes. Glancing at a fabulous antique clock standing just beneath the impressive staircase, she could see that it was already getting late in the evening. Fretting nervously, she wondered if the company doctor would be able to take a look at Carmen after 7:00 p.m. She wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink until she knew the child would be all right. This time Carmen’s stomach made its presence known, and the girl smiled shyly up at Tyler.
    “That pizza will be here soon,” he said, grinning as he mounted the stairs just off the massive tile-and-mahogany foyer. “Come on. All the bedrooms are up here.”
    Before he’d gone three steps, the front door burst open and Helga strong-armed her plastic junkyard into his impeccable vestibule. “Which way?” she hollered, glancing around curiously at her new surroundings.
    Emily could tell that Helga was suitably impressed, by the way she adjusted her plastic poncho and stood a little straighter.
    Grimacing, Tyler looked from her fully loaded shopping cart to the stairs and back to the cart again. “This way.” He sighed, and, giving Helga a hand, led his three new houseguests to their quarters.
    * * *
    “What the hell is she doing in there?” Tyler demanded, three extra-large pizzas with the works balanced precariously in his arms.
    Emily nudged him out of Helga’s room into the hallway and closed the door after them. “She’s, uh, nesting,” she explained, trying to defend Helga’s eccentric behavior.
    “Nesting?” he asked incredulously, his jaw hanging open. “What for? She has a brand-new queen-size nest with fitted sheets right there in the middle of the room. What does she need that screwball tent for?”
    “For the past few years it’s been her only protection from the elements. Kind of like a child’s security blanket. She’s just used to it, that’s all. It’s okay. Really. She’s not dangerous or anything,” she assured him, and looked longingly at the boxes he held.
    “Well...” He glanced doubtfully back at Helga’s door and sighed. She was part of the deal. He guessed he’d just figure out a way to cope