Baby 101. Marisa Carroll
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two big loft apartments. I’m hoping this area of the city will start attracting artsy-craftsy types. It’s close enough to the university that that’s not too big a stretch.”
“And all those Generation Xers who work downtown and at the Statehouse are going to start wanting places where they can spread out a bit, raise a family and still not have the commute they’d get if they moved to the suburbs.”
“Exactly what I told my dad when I talked him into putting a chunk of his retirement money into this place.” He looked at her and nodded approvingly. Lana felt herself color slightly. She hadn’t meant to speak her thoughts aloud. She felt disloyal again, the way she had earlier when she’d been thinking about her birth mother. Her parents had loved their big Tudor in its old established neighborhood with gated driveways and enormous live oaks dotting the lawn. She loved it, too. But it was so much house for a single young woman. And it was a forty-minute drive into the city—on a good day.
“I hope it works out for you.”
Greg began to snuffle into his fist.
“Time to eat again.” Dylan touched his big blunt finger to the baby’s cheek, but the movement seemed forced and wooden to Lana. “Every two hours. Just like clockwork. It’s gonna be a long night and an early morning tomorrow, buddy. No sleeping in.”
“You’re starting the renovations tomorrow?”
He nodded. “Time’s money in this business. The electrical contractor’ll be here at seven, the plumber at noon.”
“That’s a lot of noise and confusion for a baby. And what about the paint?”
“Paint? We’re a long way from paint.”
“No, I mean the old paint. You’ll be banging around, knocking it off the walls and woodwork. It looks really old. It’s got lead in it, I’ll bet. You can’t have Greg here, if that’s the case.”
“Hell, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“You said you had nieces and nephews. That means you must have siblings. Couldn’t one of them watch over Greg for a few days?”
“My brother and his wife are in New Jersey, and my sister’s husband’s in the military. They’re in Germany for the next eighteen months. My dad’s got his hands full taking care of Mom.”
“Then you’ll both have to come home with me.”
He spun around. “We can’t do that.”
Lana had the feeling that her brothers’ reactions would echo Dylan’s. They were leery enough of her giving parenting lessons to a complete stranger. When they found out she was inviting him to live under her roof, there would be hell to pay. She almost smiled but didn’t, because for some reason her heart was beating so high up in her chest it made her short of breath. “Yes, you can. You want me to give you parenting lessons. Okay, you’ve got me. But not if I have to worry about Greg being exposed to God knows what up here. Come home with me, or the deal’s off.”
CHAPTER THREE
“HE’S JUST THE CUTEST little thing.” Brittany Carson warbled the words and blew bubbles on Greg’s tummy as he cooed and gurgled in his carrier on the counter of the showroom at Oh, Baby! “I could just eat him up.”
“It looks like that’s what you’re doing,” Janette Malkovitch, Lana’s manager, said. “He’s not candy, you know.”
“He’s better than candy. He’s precious, aren’t you, sweetums.” Greg cooed louder. “He likes me best,” Brittany said. In just three days’ time he’d become a much happier baby. Lana couldn’t help wondering if it was because he spent so little time in his father’s company. In the few days Dylan had been living under her roof he’d tried hard, but his heart wasn’t in it. He treated Greg like a half-tame baby animal, kept him clean and fed and his diaper changed, but never once had Lana seen him pick his son up just to cuddle and coo over him as Brittany and Janette were doing.
“You have work to do.” There was a sharp note in Janette’s voice that wasn’t lost on Lana. She glanced around the display area. It looked fine. Brittany was a conscientious and focused kid, even if she did have five earrings in each ear and her navel pierced, which fortunately didn’t show in the clothes she wore to work. Nor did the two tattoos she’d gotten over the summer.
“Oh, lighten up, Janette,” Brittany countered. “We’ve sold two of those really expensive solid cherry furniture suites since he’s been here. I mean, when customers come in and see him lying in the bed or swinging in his swing, they can’t help themselves. They buy the works, even if they just came in to window-shop. I think we should consider keeping a baby here all the time.”
Janette was divorced with three kids and an ex-husband who was six months behind on child support. She was slightly more immune to Greg’s charm than Brittany, but only slightly. “Honey, if you’re that susceptible to a man’s come-on already, you’re in for a lot of heartbreak.” But she was grinning when she said it, and she bent to give Greg a kiss. “Men are all alike. They smile and look deep into your eyes and let you think you’re their moon and stars. When all they really want is for you to fill their stomach or warm their beds, preferably both.” Janette ran the tip of her finger along the satiny curve of Greg’s cheek. “Are you hungry, little man? Hmm, I bet you are.”
“He is due for a feeding. I’ll warm his bottle.” Brittany looked up as a very pregnant young woman entered the store. It was her responsibility to greet customers. “Sorry, little guy. You’ll have to wait,” she whispered, moving away from the carrier.
“You go get Greg’s bottle ready,” Lana said, raising a hand to wave Brittany back. “I’ll wait on her.”
“Thanks.” Brittany picked up Greg’s carrier and disappeared into the back room to heat his bottle.
Janette made a clucking noise with her tongue. “You’re spoilin’ that girl as bad as this baby.”
“I look at it as an advanced course in domestic studies. When I was her age we had to carry around a ten-pound sack of flour with a beeper attached to it for two weeks. It’s not nearly as much fun as practicing on a real baby.” Lana put down the Beatrix Potter catalog she’d been perusing and smiled at the young woman standing uncertainly just inside the door. “May I help you?”
“Hi. I was told you have car seats…used car seats. The social worker at Maitland Maternity sent me here. My baby’s due any day and I won’t be able to leave the hospital without one.” The young woman was dressed simply in cotton slacks and an oversize T-shirt that strained across her bulging middle. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and her face looked haggard and too careworn for someone her age. Another of the single mothers-to-be from a nearby women’s shelter who received free prenatal care at Maitland Maternity, Lana guessed. Sent to take advantage of the gently used car seats she collected from customers and friends, and friends of friends.
“Right over here,” she said, leading the way to the corner of the store where she kept several of the seats on display with a sign inviting customers to donate their car seats when they were no longer of use. “Choose the one that will suit you best.”
“I…I don’t have much money,” the young woman said.
“That’s okay. The cost is whatever you can pay.”
“Really?” Her face lit up. “That’s great. I…I was really worried about getting a good one. I only have a few bucks…”
“Whatever you can afford,” Lana repeated gently. “I think you’d like this one.” She picked up a car seat that doubled as a carrier. “This will do wonderfully until the baby’s about six months old.”
The young mother’s face fell again. “But…they told me my baby will need to be in a car seat until—”
“When he outgrows this one, you come back and trade up to a