Page 37 of In This Together

She had amassed quite a number of silent investments in new or struggling companies – mostly loose acquaintances – in recent years. The first time had been a favour to a friend, the second time a friend of a friend. She liked helping people. She would invest her money to help people get off the ground or out of trouble with their business, then she would take back her money with interest. She didn’t take part in business decisions, she simply gave people the opportunity to do something with their lives, though she was confident her lawyer made sure she couldn’t be screwed over. Her lawyer had described her as an angel of sorts, which she liked just fine as a title. And her hobby kept her in new shoes. What it didn’t do was occupy her for lengthy periods of time and, if anything, it isolated her, rather than giving her a route to human interactions, which she so loved.

Confident she was making and not losing money and that everything was A-okay, she closed the investment report on her screen and turned back to her primary focus for today. She was calling it Project Swans, after the company that would match her to the perfect daddy for her soon-to-be baby.

Swans was like a dating agency that matched potential mommies and daddies. Or sometimes, daddies and daddies, or mommies and mommies. It sold itself as the company that could get you what you wanted no matter how busy you were, how long you had been putting your life on hold for other commitments, or how truly catastrophic you were when it came to finding love (paraphrased). The latter was most true of Rosalie. She hadn’t been too busy working on other commitments to make a baby, she’d only been too busy wasting time on all the wrong men.

What she wanted – no,needed– was a man like her father. Honourable, hard-working, successful whilst being devoted to his family. She had come to realise that such men didn’t grow on trees – or certainly no tree she had come across.

What had changed? That was what the girls had asked her after the concert last week. Was it her latest break-up? Was she bored? Andrea had had the audacity to ask the last one.

It wasn’t any of those things. Nothing had changed, as such, but her days babysitting TJ had shown her how much she wanted her own baby to take care of, to love and be loved by, to dress up and take for days out. Her heart had nearly burst every time that little guy had smiled at her. Imagine if it was her own child smiling at her, hugging her, gurgling and chuckling because she made a funny face. She would never have days waking up and wondering what she should do or who to do it with. She would have her little man or lady to fill her days. Plus, soon she would have the recording label and her life would be bustling with people, adventures, admiration and love.

And why should she wait to have it all? She could be a mother without a man. Despite what some people thought, she was responsible. She was capable of caring for a mini-Rosalie. And she had more than enough time to look after a child.

She poured herself a fresh mug of coffee and leaned back in her chair, staring across the lush green of the park.

She knew how ridiculous it would sound if she ever said it aloud, but she was… lonely. She had so many possessions, and she had friends and living parents. Yet she spent a lot of time alone or in department stores with shop assistants who would listen to her tales for so long as she was handing over her credit card.

The more she thought about it, the more she was sure that she was doing the right thing. She pulled up the Swans website on her laptop and trawled the pages of information about how the programme worked.

She had already signed a confidentiality agreement. Today was the start of the process. At 2p.m. she was going to the agency’s office on Broadway to be interviewed by a lady called Carmen, who would ask about her expectations, what she wanted from her baby’s father, and generally how she felt a baby would fit into her life. If she liked the agency and the agency liked her, she would pay fifteen thousand dollars for them to find her the right baby daddy.

After her interview, she would take a DNA test. Her results would be compared to the potential fathers on the agency’s programme to check for genetic compatibility, which she presumed to mean a ‘peculiar diseases and anti-incest test’.

Finally, she would fill in a questionnaire about values and morals, which would also be matched to potential daddies who shared the same values. In her mind, both she and her baby daddy would have to concur with Elle Woods – orange would never be the new pink.

The agency would then provide her with a list of names that matched her, and she would select anyone who piqued her interest enough to meet.

The website was silent about the conception part of things and how childcare would be divided, which was something she would ask about later today.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. ‘I’m really doing this.’ Then she imagined herself in a café with a little girl dressed in a tweed two-piece, drinking a babyccino, holding her hand and telling her tales of the things she had learned at school, and she smiled so wide it ached her cheeks.

After finishing her coffee, she showered, slipped into a tailored dress and blazer, draping pearls around her neck. Then she headed out to the salon, where she would have a blow-dry and mani-pedi, because what kind of new mother would she present as in her interview if she wasn’t well kempt herself?

* * *

Rosalie bounced her foot as she sat cross-legged in the waiting room of Swans agency. She was sitting on one of two leather sofas in the magnolia-painted room, which was brightened by Jack Vettriano prints and fresh flowers. The lady who had told her to take a seat and was intermittently tapping away on a computer behind the reception desk kept looking over. Whenever Rosalie caught her looking, she would look away too quickly to be subtle. It was making Rosalie nervous. Was she dressed inappropriately? Had she said something wrong? Was the woman tapping scrutinising notes to pass on about why Rosalie shouldn’t be allowed to make a baby?

She picked up a copy of last month’sVoguefrom the table in front of her and tried to distract herself. She was the only person in the waiting area and she couldn’t decide if that was a good thing – less competition for the best baby daddies – or a bad thing – the agency didn’t work.

‘Rosalie?’

A tall woman, perhaps in her forties, with Ellen DeGeneres-style hair, appeared from behind a door and leaned her head to one side as she smiled at Rosalie, offering her hand to shake.

‘Yes,’ Rosalie said, her voice betraying her nervousness as she stood and accepted the hand.

‘I’m Melissa. Have you come far to get to us today?’

Rosalie followed Melissa along a short corridor, making polite small talk until they reached her office.

There was a desk with chairs either side, hosting nothing but a computer. Behind it were bookshelves which held more treasures – a snow globe, a fancy paperweight, a picture of Melissa and another woman smiling with their arms around each other.

‘Let’s sit on the sofas,’ Melissa said, gesturing to the other half of the room, which was set up like a small lounge. ‘Can I get you a tea or coffee? There are cookies and brownies on the tray there.’

Rosalie took a seat on one sofa whilst Melissa poured them both tea and added a brownie to the saucer before handing it to Rosalie. The informal setting relaxed her and she found herself liking Melissa as she took a seat on a sofa opposite Rosalie.

‘Oh boy, that’s a good brownie,’ Rosalie said, covering her mouth with her fingertips as she chewed.

Melissa smiled. She was warm and friendly. Rosalie felt at ease around her. ‘So, you obviously know about Swans and what we do. Before we start, do you have any general questions about the agency – our ethos, when we started, why we started? There are no right or wrong questions or answers today. I just want us to get to know each other. If you want to slip off your shoes and put your feet up, feel free.’

---