The Family Legacy Contract

Chapter Seven

The address Adrian Williams had sent me belonged to a small business centre on the edge of Willow Creek's shopping district, occupying the upper floor of a brick building that had once housed an insurance company.

I'd passed it hundreds of times without ever having a reason to go inside.

There was a florist on the ground floor, its windows crowded with arrangements of lilies and roses, and a narrow entrance beside it led to a staircase with a polished wooden handrail. A brass plaque near the door listed several businesses, including an accountant, a financial adviser and a company offering temporary office accommodation.

I checked the address on my phone before going in.

Adrian had arranged to meet me in one of the private rooms upstairs, which seemed sensible enough. He'd mentioned that he was travelling for work, and I supposed it would be rather expensive to maintain permanent offices in every town he visited.

I'd made an effort with my appearance, although deciding what to wear had taken considerably longer than I'd expected.

I owned one proper interview outfit, a pair of black trousers and a cream blouse that Mum had bought me when I'd applied for a receptionist position at the medical centre two years earlier. The blouse was still in good condition, but I'd worn it often enough that it had begun to feel rather ordinary, and I wanted to look as though I'd made an effort.

In the end, I'd chosen a pale blue dress with little covered buttons down the front, which I'd bought for a cousin's engagement party the previous summer. It was simple and reasonably smart, and with a cardigan over the top and my nicest flat shoes, I thought it would do.

I had also borrowed Mum's handbag.

Mine was perfectly serviceable, but the strap had begun to fray, and I didn't particularly want to arrive at a meeting with a professional recruiter carrying something that looked as though it might fall apart before I got home.

I climbed the stairs, conscious of the faint smell of furniture polish and fresh flowers drifting up from the shop below.

At the top was a small reception area furnished with two upholstered chairs, a low table and a collection of magazines arranged in a tidy fan. A woman sat behind a desk, typing something on her computer.

She looked up when I approached.

"Good afternoon."

"Hello. I'm Natalie Walsh. I have an appointment with Adrian Williams at two."

"Of course. He's expecting you."

She glanced at her screen.

"You're a few minutes early. Would you like to take a seat?"

"Thank you."

"Can I get you some water?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine. Thank you."

I sat in one of the chairs and placed my handbag neatly on my lap.

There was a framed photograph of a mountain landscape on the opposite wall, and beneath it a small shelf holding several books about business management. I examined their titles without any real interest, then checked the time on my phone.

Ten minutes to two.

I'd deliberately arrived early, partly because I didn't want to be late and partly because I wasn't entirely sure how long it would take me to find the office. It had taken less time than expected, and now I had nothing to do but sit and wonder what I ought to say when Adrian began asking questions.

I'd thought about the meeting several times since speaking to Jess.

She'd sent me a message that morning reminding me to ask about salary, which had made me laugh, although I'd added it to the little list of questions I'd written in my notebook.

I wanted to know what sort of positions the company offered, whether any required qualifications I didn't have, and whether there were opportunities outside Willow Creek.

The last question was the one I was most interested in.

I'd spent Sunday evening looking through the company's website again, particularly the section about international placements. There were photographs of office buildings in cities I'd never visited, descriptions of relocation assistance and several accounts from people who'd found work through Meridian.

Some of the positions mentioned were clearly beyond me, involving qualifications in finance, engineering or business administration, but there were others I didn't entirely understand, and I wondered whether there might be something suitable for someone willing to learn.

I wasn't expecting a miracle.

I simply hoped there might be more possibilities than I'd found on my own.

"Natalie?"

I looked up.

Adrian stood in the doorway at the far end of the reception area, wearing a dark suit and a pale shirt with an open collar. He looked rather different from the man I'd first encountered eating breakfast at Ruth's, although the expensive-looking clothes and easy manner were the same.

"Hello."

I stood, smoothing the front of my dress.

"Lovely to see you again." He extended his hand. "Thank you for coming."

"Thank you for inviting me."

"Not at all. Shall we?"

He stepped aside and gestured towards the room behind him.

It was a modest office, with a large desk, two comfortable chairs and a window overlooking the street. A glass jug of water stood on a tray beside several clean glasses, and there was a leather folder open in front of the chair Adrian had been using.

Nothing about it was particularly remarkable, although I was relieved to find it looked exactly like the sort of place where people might reasonably discuss employment.

"Please, make yourself comfortable."

I sat in the chair opposite his desk.

"Would you like some water?"

"Yes, please."

He poured a glass and placed it within my reach before settling into his own chair.

"Now then. How are you?"

"Very well, thank you."

"And how was your weekend?"

"Lovely, actually. Rather quiet."

"Sometimes those are the best kind."

He smiled and opened the folder.

"Well, Natalie, I thought we'd spend a little time getting to know one another properly. You mentioned that your hours at the diner had been reduced, and that you were interested in the possibility of travelling for work."

"Yes, that's right."

"Excellent. Perhaps we could begin with your employment history."

"Of course."

He picked up a pen.

"How long have you been working at the diner?"

"Just over five years."

"Five years. And before that?"

"I was still at school."

"Ah, I see. So you've been there since graduating?"

"Yes. I started part-time during my last year, and then picked up more hours once I'd finished."

"And the motel?"

"About three years. I do housekeeping for Mrs Donnelly whenever she needs someone."

"Is that regular work?"

"Usually a couple of mornings a week, although it depends on how busy she is."

"And the gardening?"

"That's for Mrs Bellamy. I started helping her about eighteen months ago, mostly with weeding and the heavier jobs. Her husband used to look after the garden, but she finds some of it difficult now."

"Very good."

He made several notes.

"Do you have any experience in office administration?"

"Not professionally, no."

"Computer work?"

"Well, I can use a computer."

He smiled.

"That's a start."

"I've used spreadsheets a little, and I can type. I'm reasonably good with things like that, although I haven't had any formal training."

"Customer service, obviously."

"Yes."

"Cash handling?"

"Every day at the diner."

"Stock management? Ordering?"

"Sometimes. Ruth generally handles the ordering herself, but I help with deliveries and checking stock."

He nodded and continued writing.

The questions were straightforward enough, and after the first few minutes I began to relax. He listened carefully, occasionally asking for more detail, and seemed genuinely interested in the work I did.

I told him about opening and closing the diner, dealing with customers, balancing the register and helping Ruth train new staff when we had them. I explained that Mrs Donnelly trusted me to clean rooms without supervision and that Mrs Bellamy sometimes asked me to collect supplies or organise work in the garden.

It was strange hearing myself describe these things as though they were professional accomplishments.

They were simply things I did.

"That's quite a varied background," Adrian said when I'd finished.

"I suppose so."

"And you've clearly demonstrated that you're reliable. Staying with an employer for five years is no small thing."

"Ruth's been very good to me."

"I'm sure she has. Now, what about education? Did you attend college?"

"No."

He looked up from his notes.

"Not at all?"

I shook my head.

"Just high school."

"Did you complete your diploma?"

"Yes."

"Any additional qualifications? Certificates, vocational training, anything of that nature?"

"I'm afraid not."

"That's quite all right."

He made another note.

"Was there a particular reason you didn't continue studying?"

I hesitated.

It wasn't a question I was offended by, but I hadn't expected to be asked it quite so directly.

"I'd planned to," I said. "I was hoping to go to college after graduating, but my father's workplace closed down, and things were a bit difficult financially."

"I see."

"So I decided to work for a while and save some money."

"And you haven't had the opportunity to return to it?"

"Not yet."

He nodded, apparently satisfied with the explanation.

"Do you still have an interest in further education?"

"Oh, yes. Very much."

"What would you like to study?"

I opened my mouth.

Then I stopped.

It was such an obvious question that I felt rather foolish for not having an answer ready.

"I haven't quite decided."

"That's perfectly understandable. There are a great many options."

"Yes."

"Any particular subjects you enjoyed at school?"

"English. History. I was quite good at biology too."

"Have you considered nursing? Teaching? Perhaps something in business?"

"I've thought about all sorts of things."

"Anything that particularly appeals?"

I looked down at my hands.

The truth was that I'd thought about going to college so often that it had become a sort of fixed point in my imagination, something I would do when I had enough money and enough time and when everything at home was a little more settled.

I'd imagined walking across a campus carrying books, sitting in lecture halls and meeting people who had grown up in places I'd never visited. I'd imagined having assignments to complete and interesting things to discuss, and perhaps living in a little apartment with other students.

Somehow, I'd spent considerably less time thinking about what I would actually study.

"I don't really know," I admitted.

Adrian waited.

"I suppose I've been so focused on trying to get there that I haven't given enough thought to what I'd do once I arrived."

"Well, that's not uncommon."

I gave a small smile.

"I feel as though I ought to have a better answer at twenty-three."

"There's no particular age by which someone has to decide what they want to do with their life."

"I know."

And I did know. I would have said exactly the same thing to anyone else.

Still, sitting across from a man who seemed to have a successful career and a beautifully tailored suit, I felt suddenly conscious of how little I'd managed to accomplish on paper.

Five years at a diner.

Three years cleaning motel rooms.

A high school diploma.

I worked hard, and I was proud of the fact that I'd helped my family when they needed me, but I hadn't realised quite how small my experience might look when reduced to a few lines in somebody else's notebook.

Adrian turned a page.

"Let's approach it another way. If money weren't a consideration, what would you like your life to look like in five years?"

I considered the question.

"I'd like to have travelled."

"Anywhere in particular?"

"New York, for a start. My best friend lives there."

He smiled.

"And professionally?"

I looked towards the window.

"I'd like to be doing something interesting. Something where I could learn new things, I suppose. I'd like to be able to support myself properly, without having to work three different jobs."

"Of course."

"And I'd like to have my own place."

"Here in Willow Creek?"

"Probably not."

"Somewhere larger?"

"Yes. Somewhere with more opportunities."

He nodded.

"That all sounds very reasonable."

I smiled, relieved.

"But you're not particularly certain what kind of career would get you there."

"No," I admitted. "I'm not."

"That's useful to know."

He looked back at his notes.

For a little while, he asked more practical questions. Whether I had a driver's licence, whether I'd be comfortable living away from my family, whether I'd worked with children, whether I had any medical or first-aid qualifications.

I answered as best I could.

The conversation was pleasant, and Adrian never made me feel as though I'd said anything wrong, but I began to notice that he wasn't telling me very much about the jobs themselves.

Eventually, he set down his pen.

"Well, Natalie, I think I have a fairly good understanding of your background."

I sat a little straighter.

"That's good."

"And I can certainly see why you've been able to maintain several jobs. You strike me as a conscientious young woman."

"Thank you."

"Unfortunately, I do need to be realistic with you about the opportunities we currently have available."

Something in his tone made my stomach sink.

"Of course."

"Most of our professional placements require either a degree or a recognised vocational qualification, particularly when international relocation is involved. There are visa requirements, employer requirements and, in some cases, industry regulations that we have very little flexibility with."

I nodded.

"Yes, I understand."

"We do occasionally recruit for hospitality and domestic positions, but the salaries aren't generally very competitive once you account for the cost of relocating."

"Oh."

"And given that you're already working in those fields, I'm not certain we'd be improving your circumstances very much."

"Right."

He glanced at the folder.

"There are administrative positions, of course, but those tend to attract candidates with several years of direct experience."

"I see."

"I'm sorry. I know that isn't particularly encouraging."

"No, that's all right."

I managed a smile.

"I appreciate you being honest."

He leaned back slightly.

"Have you considered taking a short course? Something in business administration, perhaps?"

"Yes. I have looked into a few."

"That might be a worthwhile place to start."

"Perhaps."

I reached for my glass of water.

I'd known there was a possibility nothing would come of the meeting. In fact, I'd spent most of the morning reminding myself not to expect too much.

Even so, I couldn't help feeling disappointed.

It wasn't that I'd imagined Adrian would offer me some wonderful position in New York simply because I knew how to operate a coffee machine and clean a bathroom. I wasn't quite that naïve.

But I'd hoped there might be something.

Some small opening I hadn't known existed.

Instead, I appeared to have spent the last half hour explaining to a stranger that I had no qualifications, no particular career direction and very little prospect of finding better work without first obtaining the education I couldn't afford.

It was a rather depressing conclusion.

Adrian closed the folder.

"Now, there is one other area of placement we handle occasionally, although it's rather different from the positions we've been discussing."

I looked up.

"Oh?"

"It's not something I generally raise unless I believe a candidate might be suited to it."

"Right."

He regarded me for a moment.

"Have you ever heard of private surrogacy arrangements?"

I blinked.

"Surrogacy?"

"Yes."

I wasn't entirely sure I'd heard him correctly.

"As in... having a baby for someone?"

"Essentially."

I looked at him.

For a moment I wondered whether he'd misunderstood something I'd said earlier.

"I'm sorry. What does that have to do with recruitment?"

"A fair question."

He smiled, apparently unsurprised by my confusion.

"Meridian works with a number of private clients, including wealthy families who require assistance with rather specialised personal arrangements. Most people associate recruitment with conventional employment, but private placement can encompass a broader range of services."

"I see."

I didn't, particularly.

He continued.

"Surrogacy is one of those areas. There are families who, for various reasons, are unable to have children themselves and are prepared to provide substantial financial support to a woman willing to carry a child on their behalf."

I nodded slowly.

I'd heard of surrogacy, of course. There had been articles about it online, and I remembered watching a television programme about a woman who'd carried twins for her sister.

But I hadn't known recruitment agencies were involved.

"Wouldn't they go through a fertility clinic?" I asked.

"In many cases, yes. The medical aspects are handled by appropriate specialists. Our involvement concerns finding suitable candidates and coordinating the contractual arrangements."

"Oh."

"These are generally very private matters, Natalie. Our clients value discretion, and they prefer to work through an established intermediary rather than advertise their personal circumstances."

I could understand that, at least.

"I suppose that makes sense."

"Now, I should explain that the particular arrangements I'm referring to are somewhat different from what you may have seen in the media."

"Different how?"

"Most people are familiar with gestational surrogacy, where an embryo is created using genetic material from the intended parents or donors and transferred to the surrogate."

"Yes."

"In these cases, the woman carrying the pregnancy also provides the egg."

I stared at him.

"Her own egg?"

"That's correct."

"So she'd be..." I hesitated, trying to work out how to phrase the question. "She'd actually be the baby's biological mother?"

"Genetically, yes."

I looked down at my water.

"Right."

Adrian glanced at his notes.

"Which brings me to another consideration. In arrangements of this nature, the prospective family's preferences can be rather specific."

"Specific how?"

"Well, because the surrogate is also the biological mother, certain physical characteristics are sometimes taken into account. Height, colouring, general appearance. That sort of thing."

I nodded slowly.

"Right."

"And I should mention that your appearance would be considered particularly desirable."

I looked up.

"My appearance?"

"Yes."

I stared at him.

"I'm sorry, are you saying someone would want me to have their baby because I'm pretty?"

Adrian seemed to recognise how peculiar that sounded.

"Not simply because you're attractive, Natalie. And please don't misunderstand me. I'm not making a personal advance or suggesting anything inappropriate."

"Oh."

"These families are often very particular about the characteristics they hope their children might inherit. Your appearance happens to align rather closely with what some of our clients are looking for."

I wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

I'd spent most of my life listening to people tell me I was pretty, usually followed by some observation about what a shame it was that I wasn't doing more with it. I'd never been entirely certain what they expected me to do. My face hadn't paid a single bill, and I couldn't imagine it ever would.

Apparently, I'd lacked imagination.

"And what happens if the baby looks nothing like me?" I asked.

Adrian smiled.

"Well, naturally, there are no guarantees. Genetics are rather more complicated than that, and our clients understand it."

"I should hope so."

"Of course. Appearance is only one consideration among many. Health, medical history, temperament and personal circumstances are all important. No responsible arrangement would be based on appearance alone."

I considered that for a moment.

It was strange to think that something I'd never particularly regarded as an accomplishment might be valuable to someone else, although I supposed people had been trying to tell me that for years.

I'd simply never imagined they meant quite so literally.

Adrian waited a moment before continuing.

"These arrangements aren't suitable for everyone, of course. They require a particular set of circumstances and a considerable degree of personal commitment."

"I can imagine."

"The contracts are strictly confidential. Candidates are matched with prospective families following a thorough assessment process, and once an agreement has been reached, the woman relocates for the duration of the arrangement."

"Relocates?"

"Yes. Often internationally."

I looked up.

"Internationally?"

"Depending on the client. Many of the families we work with live abroad, and they generally prefer the surrogate to remain nearby throughout the pregnancy so that medical care and practical arrangements can be managed consistently."

"How long would she have to stay?"

"Typically around a year, although it varies according to the individual contract."

"A year?"

"Approximately. That allows time for the initial medical assessments, conception, pregnancy and recovery following the birth."

I sat back in my chair.

A year was an awfully long time.

"And she'd live with the family?"

"Sometimes on their property, sometimes in accommodation arranged specifically for her. The exact details depend on the client, but the important point is that her living expenses are covered."

"All of them?"

"Accommodation, meals, transport, medical care and other ordinary necessities. Those are provided as part of the arrangement."

I nodded, although I was beginning to feel increasingly uncomfortable.

Adrian seemed to interpret my silence as an invitation to continue.

"In addition, the surrogate receives a regular stipend throughout the contract period. You can think of it as compensation for her time and the income she might otherwise have earned."

"Right."

"Then, following the successful delivery of a child, there's a final payment."

I looked at him.

"How much?"

He smiled slightly.

"That depends on the client and the terms negotiated. Some families are prepared to offer very substantial sums."

"What sort of sums?"

"Potentially life-changing amounts, Natalie."

I wasn't particularly fond of that answer.

"Yes, but what does that mean?"

"Well, in some cases, enough to pay for several years of university education, establish yourself in a new city or purchase a home."

I stared at him.

"A home?"

"Depending on the arrangement, certainly."

For a moment I couldn't think of anything to say.

"And what happens if she doesn't get pregnant?"

"That's something we discuss very carefully with prospective candidates."

He folded his hands on the desk.

"Naturally, no one can guarantee conception. If a woman is unable to conceive within the agreed period, she doesn't receive the final completion payment, because that payment is contingent upon the birth of a child."

"So she gets nothing?"

"Oh, no. She continues to receive the regular stipend for the time she's participating, and all her agreed living expenses remain covered. If the contract concludes without a pregnancy, she returns home."

"Just like that?"

"Essentially, yes."

"And she doesn't owe anyone anything?"

"Not simply because conception was unsuccessful. Any financial obligations would be set out in the contract beforehand."

I nodded.

He made it sound almost like an ordinary employment arrangement, something with a fixed term and a completion bonus, except that the work involved becoming pregnant, spending months carrying a child and then handing that child to someone else.

Someone who, genetically, would be hers. I couldn't quite get past that part.

"Would she get to see the baby afterwards?" I asked.

"That would depend on the agreement. Most of these arrangements are intended to establish the commissioning family as the child's parents from birth."

"So she wouldn't be involved in raising it."

"No."

"Or necessarily see it again."

"Generally, no."

I looked towards the window.

A woman was standing outside the florist below, examining a bucket of pink roses. She picked one up, turned it between her fingers and then returned it to the bucket.

For some reason, I found myself watching her rather intently.

I tried to imagine what it would feel like to spend nine months carrying a baby, feeling it move, watching my body change and preparing for its arrival, only to know that someone else would take it home.

I knew there were women who became surrogates willingly, and I had no reason to doubt that some found the experience deeply rewarding. Helping someone have a child was an extraordinary thing to do.

But I couldn't imagine doing it myself.

Especially not under these circumstances.

Not with my own egg.

Not with the understanding that the child would be taken away afterwards and I might never see it again.

I thought of Mum telling me stories about when Ben and I were little, of the photographs she kept in albums in the living room and the way she still remembered the smallest details of our childhoods.

She could tell me exactly what I'd said the first time I saw snow, what Ben had wanted for his fourth birthday and how I'd refused to sleep without a particular stuffed rabbit for almost two years.

I wondered how someone could carry a child and then return home without any of those things.

Without knowing what their first word would be, or whether they liked being read to, or what sort of person they might become.

My throat tightened.

I took a sip of water.

"Are you all right?" Adrian asked.

I looked back at him.

"Yes. Sorry. It's just rather a lot to take in."

"Of course it is."

He spoke kindly, without any apparent impatience.

"I wouldn't expect anyone to make a decision about something like this on the spot."

I managed a small smile.

"No, I suppose not."

"And as I said, it isn't for everyone. Some women are very comfortable with the arrangement, particularly when they understand the opportunities it can provide for themselves and their families. Others decide it's not something they could undertake."

I nodded.

"That makes sense."

"There's also a considerable screening process. Medical assessments, psychological evaluations, legal consultations. It's not a matter of simply signing a form and boarding a plane."

"Of course."

"The important thing is that everyone understands their responsibilities before entering into an agreement."

I looked down at my hands.

I was beginning to wish I'd never asked what sort of positions he recruited for.

The disappointment I'd felt earlier seemed rather insignificant now.

At least being told I wasn't qualified for an office job was something I could understand. I could take a course, gain experience, apply again.

This was something else entirely.

I couldn't imagine what amount of money would make me comfortable with it.

Adrian opened the folder again.

"Now, I don't want you to feel pressured in any way. I only mention it because you've expressed an interest in travelling, and because the financial arrangements can be particularly beneficial to someone hoping to pursue further education."

"Yes, I understand."

"And you appear to have many of the personal qualities these families value. You're responsible, hardworking and accustomed to looking after others."

I smiled faintly.

"That's very kind of you."

"It's simply my assessment."

He paused.

"Would you like me to explain a little more about the application process?"

I looked at him.

For one uncomfortable moment, I considered saying yes simply because he'd been so pleasant and had taken the time to meet with me.

Then I thought about the baby.

"No, thank you."

He nodded.

"Of course."

"I appreciate you telling me about it, but I really don't think it's something I could do."

"That's perfectly understandable."

"I hope I haven't wasted your time."

"Not in the slightest, Natalie."

He smiled.

"That's the purpose of these meetings. To explore possibilities and decide whether they're suitable."

I felt a little better.

"Thank you."

"And please don't think this closes the door on other opportunities. If something more conventional comes across my desk that might suit you, I'd be happy to keep your details on file."

"That would be lovely."

"Excellent."

He made a note in the folder.

I glanced at the clock on the wall.

We'd been speaking for almost an hour.

"I should probably let you get back to work," I said.

"Of course."

I reached for my handbag.

"Thank you very much for meeting with me. I really appreciate your time."

"You're most welcome."

He stood as I did and accompanied me towards the door.

Just before he opened it, he paused.

"Natalie, one last thing."

"Yes?"

"I do hope you'll give what we've discussed a little thought."

I looked at him.

"The surrogacy?"

"Yes. I completely understand your initial reaction, and I wouldn't dream of encouraging you to pursue something you weren't comfortable with. But these arrangements can be quite different from what people first imagine, particularly when the families involved are able to provide such a high standard of care."

I nodded politely.

"Of course."

"There's no need to decide anything now. Just keep it in mind."

"Thank you. I will."

He opened the door.

"It was a pleasure getting to know you."

"You too."

I stepped into the reception area, thanked the woman behind the desk and made my way downstairs.

Outside, the afternoon was warm and bright, and the florist had arranged several new buckets of flowers along the pavement.

I stopped beside my bicycle and took a moment to adjust the strap of Mum's handbag.

I'd gone into the meeting hoping to hear about a job that might take me somewhere new.

Instead, I'd discovered that I wasn't particularly qualified to do anything different from what I was already doing, and that the one opportunity Adrian had thought worth mentioning involved having a baby for strangers.

I let out a long breath.

Well.

That hadn't gone quite as I'd imagined.

I unlocked my bicycle and wheeled it towards the street.

For a moment, I thought about calling Jess. She'd want to know how the meeting had gone, and I could already imagine her reaction when I told her what Adrian had suggested.

But I wasn't quite ready to discuss it.

I wanted to go home, change out of my dress and have a cup of tea.

Perhaps I'd look into those administration courses he'd mentioned. There might be something available online, and if I could save a little money over the next few months, I might be able to enrol.