“Catherine, are you pregnant with somebody’s baby?” Letter to Reader Title Page Dedication About the Author Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Copyright

“Catherine, are you pregnant with somebody’s baby?”

She blinked, startled. “What? For heaven’s sake. No. Of course not.”

Jason observed her carefully. “Then what’s with the nursery? That’s a lot of work to go through for nothing. I know you mentioned wanting to become a mother. Maybe you’re planning on adopting?”

Catherine twirled her hair. “Not exactly.” She took a deep breath. “Funny you should bring this up, Jason, because I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

His eyes never left her face. “What?”

She sipped her coffee and studied the inside of the mug as though it held the secret of life. Finally she blurted out what she’d been holding inside all these weeks. “Jason, would you consider giving me a baby?”

Dear Reader,

To ring in 1998—Romance-style!—we’ve got some new voices and some exciting new love stories from the authors you love.

Valerie Parv is best known for her Harlequin Romance and Presents novels, but The Billionaire’s Baby Chase, this month’s compelling FABULOUS FEATHERS title, marks her commanding return to Silhouette! This billionaire daddy is pure alpha male...and no one—not even the heroine!—will keep him from his long-lost daughter....

Doreen Roberts’s sparkling new title, In Love with the Boss, features the classic boss/secretary theme. Discover how a no-nonsense temp catches the eye—and heart—of her wealthy brooding boss. If you want to laugh out loud, don’t miss Terry Essig’s What the Nursery Needs... In this charming story, what the heroine needs is the right man to make a baby! Hmm...

A disillusioned rancher finds himself thinking, Say You’ll Stay and Marry Me, when he falls for the beautiful wanderer who is stranded on his ranch in this emotional tale by Patti Standard. And, believe me, if you think The Bride, the Trucker and the Great Escape sounds fun, just wait till you read this engaging romantic adventure by Suzanne McMinn. And in The Sheriff with the Wyoming-Size Heart by Kathy Jacobson, emotions run high as a small-town lawman and a woman with secrets try to give romance a chance....

And there’s much more to come in 1998! I hope you enjoy our selections this month—and every month.

Happy New Year!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor

Silhouette Books

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

What The Nursery Needs…
Terry Essig

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Stephanie Scharf,

for all those long drives to Chicago’s Inner City

to help me teach art. And to her husband, David Taber,

for his help and support.

You’re both the best.

TERRY ESSIG

lives in northern Indiana. She has six children, a wonderful husband and a crazy English setter. (Better the dog than the husband, although with all the music lessons, sport activities and general mayhem, the husband may more than occasionally feel like he’s losing his mind.) Terry finds it all, uh, good inspiration for her writing?

Chapter One

The dark blue sedan drew up to the curb, its speed slowing to match the pace of the young preadolescent girl walking down the sidewalk. With a near silent whisper, the passenger side window slid down. The driver leaned over to call out through the opening, “Hey, you with the snazzy earrings, want a ride? I’ve got candy.” He let the temptation dangle in the air between them.

The child, temporarily forgetting the embarrassment of her barely burgeoning breasts, pulled her shoulders back and glared in the direction of the car. “No, thanks,” she said, adjusting her backpack strap on her shoulder and picking up her pace. “My father doesn’t want me talking to strange men.”

The man behind the wheel slumped briefly. The emphasis on the word father didn’t bode well. Whatever happened to daddy? He sighed and stepped slightly on the gas. The car surged just enough to keep him abreast of the girl. “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. I’ve got a ton of candy in here. Wouldn’t you like a treat after a hard day at school?”

The girl stopped in her tracks and turned to face the car. “What kind of candy?” she asked.

“Get in the car and I’ll show you.”

“It’s probably something I don’t even like.”

“Bet it’s not. I bet it’s your favorite.”

At that, the girl flipped her ponytail and left the safety of the sidewalk. She approached the car. “Oh, yeah? Let’s see.” Her eyes widened at the variety of candy bars displayed on the front seat. Without hesitating any further, she opened the passenger door and slid in. The car gunned away from the curb to merge seemlessly back into traffic.

Her favorite was indeed there, but when the girl made to take it, the man’s hand stayed hers. “The deal is if you take that, it means the snit is officially over and you have to start talking to me again.”

The preadolescent’s eyes narrowed as she considered the catch. “Will you let Connie and me go to the mall together?”

“No. Not without an adult. My answer to that won’t change. I work with somebody whose name is forever sealed behind my lips, so don’t ask, whose niece runs in that same group. She tells me Connie and another girl were picked up for shoplifting some makeup—lipstick and stuff like that. The manager of the store let it drop when Connie’s mother made her apologize and pay double, but she might not be so lucky next time. If you’re out with somebody like that, even if you haven’t taken anything yourself, you could get picked up as an accessory, to say nothing of the fact that it just isn’t safe for two young girls to be at the mall by themselves. And don’t start on how nothing ever happens in South Bend or even the entire state of Indiana. You’ve said it all before and I still say there are too many weirdos out there.”

“Connie said she didn’t know how that lipstick got in her pocket. She thinks maybe it rolled off the shelf while she was standing there. Or else maybe Angie slipped it into her shorts pocket at the checkout when she was waiting to pay for her gum, just to get her in trouble. They had a fight that day.”

The disbelieving adult snort was loud and prolonged. “Yeah, right. How stupid do I look?”

“Besides, lots of other kids I know have tried shoplifting. They just didn’t get caught.”

“Let me put it to you this way, sweetie. You even think about trying it and you won’t set so much as a big toe outside your bedroom door for a month of Sundays. Understand?”

“But, Dad...”

Jason John Engel silently ground his teeth at his daughter’s whining tone. “I mean it, Maura, issues like this are nonnegotiable. The candy doesn’t mean I’m weakening, just that I’m willing to sweeten the refusal. Like I told you before, I can probably take you and a friend, preferably not Connie, to the mall this weekend, if you want.”

“No. Everybody else gets to go to the mall by themselves. It would be too embarrassing if anybody saw. I’d never be able to face my friends again.”

Jason shrugged, knowing he shouldn’t take her rejection personally, but doing so, anyway. “Fine. Then you don’t go.”

His twelve-year-old daughter, he noticed, ground her teeth exactly the way he did when frustrated. But she did take the candy bar. He waited until after her first bite. “So we’re talking again, right?”

Maura’s mouth stilled briefly as she stopped chewing and eyed him. Jason just hoped she wasn’t going to spit the candy all over him. He was wearing a good suit. Eventually she nodded her head in the affirmative.

Jason was afraid his relief was palpable in the car. It was scary how much control a twelve-year-old could wield with her moods and whims. It amounted . to emotional blackmail at times.

“By the way,” he said. “I want you to walk home from school on the opposite side of the street from now on. Did you see how easy it was for me to stay next to you and talk to you? If I’d have had a mind to, I could have easily hopped out of the car and grabbed you. On the other side of the street, you’d be walking against traffic, and it would be much harder for anybody in a car to harrass you.”

“Dad,” Maura began kindly, too kindly for Jason’s peace of mind. In his experience, that kind of patient tone boded nothing but ill for what followed.

“Maura, please, let’s not argue about this, too. Just do it, all right? Just do it.”

“Okay, fine, whatever.”

“Thank you,” Jason said fervently and meant it. He was so grateful, he pretended not to notice the heavy-duty eye rolling that accompanied the exasperated agreement. “Thank you very much.” He pulled around a corner onto his own street, and three blocks later pulled into his driveway.

Maura leaned forward interestedly as the car stopped next to the house. “Look, Dad, there’s somebody moving in next door.”

“Hmm?” Jason glanced up from collecting his briefcase and newspaper to see what had caught his daughter’s attention. “Oh. that’s nice. That house has been empty for so long I didn’t think anybody would ever buy it. Vacant houses lower the property values in an area. And, I suppose it’ll be good to have neighbors again, eh, Maura?”

“I wonder if there’s anybody my age.”

“Could be,” her father mumbled noncommittally as he fumbled with the door handle. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

Maura’s shoulders slumped more than usual as she walked around the rear of the car. “Look, they’re moving in a crib and a bassinet. I guess that means no friend for me.”

“Not necessarily,” Jason said as he pushed his key into the front door lock. “The baby could have an older sister and if not, think about the baby-sitting jobs that could come your way.” Money always appealed at this age. The thought of it should perk Maura right up.

It did, too. Her shoulders briefly straightened before she remembered to round them again. “Yes, Annie O’Connor had the cutest sweatshirt on at school yesterday, but she said it cost $38 and I knew you’d never pay that much for a sweatshirt. If I earn half baby-sitting, do you think you’d pay the other half, Dad?”

Jason set his briefcase down on the wooden floor of the front foyer and balanced his newspaper on top of it before tiredly rubbing his eye. “Uh, I’ll think about it, okay? Don’t eat any more of those candy bars before dinner, Maura,” he instructed as he noticed the fistful she clasped. “I don’t want you filling up on junk. Do me a favor and ration them over the next few days so I don’t feel so guilty about buying you such swill.”

Maura shrugged and crossed her fingers behind her back. “Okay, no problem, Dad.”

“Terrific,” Jason said, not believing a word of it. “I’m going to change, then see what I can put together for dinner. You’re in charge of a salad.”

“No prob.”

Jason merely grunted on his way up the stairs. Man, what a day. But at least Maura was more or less speaking to him again—if you could call this communicating.

Next door, Catherine Marie Nicholson let out a grunt. “There,” she said as she hefted another heavy cardboard box onto a stack of similar boxes in her new kitchen. “That’s the last of the dish boxes I think. Next time I move, I’m going to remember not to put so much in the boxes. These suckers are heavy!”

“Next time you move,” her sister Monica responded as she leaned against the countertops while she caught her breath, “you’ll have to give me more of an advance notice so I can be sure to have other plans for the day.”

“You don’t mean that,” Catherine assured her as she filled two cups with tap water and handed one to Monica.

“Oh, yes I do.”

“I’ll make it up to you. How about if I take Amy all day Saturday? You can spend it pottering around doing whatever you feel like.”

Monica set her cup down after chugging the liquid. “What kind of deal is that? You adore Amy. You’re always trying to get your grimy little mitts on her so that you can have your monthly ‘kid fix.’ When are you going to break down and have one of your own?”

“Actually, I’ve been giving that a great deal of thought lately,” Catherine admitted to her sister.

“Yeah? Come to any earth-shattering conclusions? Like time to stop being so dam picky and marry Gerald?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Catherine made a dismissing gesture. “I’ll never be that hard up. Gerald and I had already been out looking for a diamond when I discovered he was seeing Caroline Neeley on the sly. That poor girl had no idea Gerald had proposed to me, the dirtbag. No, forget Gerald. Forget men. I’ve come up with a different approach entirely.” She reached for the cleaning supplies she’d stacked in one corner. “Help me wipe out the cabinets and lay some shelf paper so I can start emptying these boxes, will you?”

“Having a baby is not exactly a do-it-yourself kind of project, you know. You’re a natural nurturer. It’s why you keep borrowing Amy. It’s why you keep falling in love with the cribs you sell in your kids’ resale shop. You need children of your own to feel fulfilled. You know that and I know that. You’ve been looking for Mr. Right for close to five years now,” Monica said as she grudgingly picked up a sponge. “Why give up now? Twenty-seven isn’t that old. You’ve still got time.”

“Nope. Gerald was the last straw. I give up. I’m throwing in the towel. I decided just last night, as a matter of fact, that it was time to move on to plan B.”

“I didn’t know there was a plan B.”

“There wasn’t. Now there is. It’s simple. Go to a sperm bank.”

Monica almost fell off the ladder she was standing on. “What?”

“You heard me. Cut out the middle man, go directly to the source. From what I understand, people do it all the time.”

Catherine dunked her sponge in her bucket and began to wipe out the interior of a bottom cabinet. Her plan made perfect sense to her. One had to be flexible in this life. A determined person could always find a way to achieve her goal.

Monica, however, was not convinced. “That doesn’t make any sense at all. You’d be adding a middle man, not taking one away. The man is the source.”

Catherine pulled her head out of the cabinet she’d been scrubbing and threw her sponge into the bucket, splashing soapsuds on the floor. “Fine, if you want to play word games, be that way, but you know what I mean. If I really want a baby, which I do, I need to start rethinking the whole project. Otherwise it’s going to remain nothing but an unattainable dream.” She squeezed out the sponge and attacked the next cabinet in line.

Monica opened the cabinet next to the one she’d just finished. Her voice was muffled now and echoed slightly, but her disapproval was still clear. “You were always daydreaming and playing pretend as a kid. You’ve gotten a lot better about getting real. We’re all so proud of the way you’ve made your business succeed, but there’s such a thing as taking it too far. Just be patient. Some guy will turn up, and I’d hate to have you miss all the fun involved in creating a baby naturally. I meant what I said about you being a natural candidate for motherhood, Cath, but I know you like I know the back of my own hand, and I’m telling you I don’t think you’ll be happy doing it this way. You crave family. The whole shebang. You need the husband to go along with the kiddies. I know.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately, Prince Charming is taken, Monica. Cinderella got her claws into him before I even had a chance. I almost made a very bad mistake out of what I now see was desperation. I’m not going to risk it again.”

Monica sat heavily on the third step of her ladder. “But a sperm bank? It seems so cold—so impersonal. Your baby’s not going to know its daddy?” she asked weakly.

Catherine backed out of the cabinet and shrugged at her sister. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. A lady brought in the most beautiful four-poster canopy crib for me to sell for her last week. I brought it home. As a matter of fact, last night I also decided to decorate the spare bedroom as a nursery instead of an office. What do you think of that?”

“Oh, my God, you’re really serious about this.”

Catherine nodded emphatically. “You bet I am. I’m going to decorate that room, set up the crib, then fill it. I am not about to go sit in there every evening and get maudlin over the empty crib. I’ve got my college degree, my resale shop is doing fantastically well, and now I’ve even got my own home. Things aren’t going to get much more orderly than that, and so I’m going to bite the bullet. No time like the present, and all of that. I’m going for it, Mon.”

Monica stared at her sister. “I can’t believe this.”

Catherine nodded firmly. “Believe it.”

“Do you even know where there is a sperm bank?”

“No, but how difficult can they be to find? You read about people using them all the time in the newspaper.”

“Usually because there’s been a problem. All the sperm defrosted or somebody’s is missing. Something awful like that.”

Catherine shrugged off Monica’s concern. “Well, they’re not going to publish the normal day-to-day success cases, are they? You know the press. They only publish the grimmest of the grim.”

“I don’t know, Cath. I mean, what if you got overfertilized and ended up with sextuplets or something? I hear that happens all the time at those places. How would you handle a multiple birth all by yourself? You’d be too tired to run the shop.

“And besides, I bet you don’t have even the foggiest idea how to find a sperm bank or what to do or say if you did. Do you know anybody who knows anything about this? Outside of the newspaper stories, I mean. Those all seemed to be in California, as I recall, and you don’t want a baby born with a need to go surfing. He’d be in for a real disappointment here in South Bend.”

“All right, so I’ll rule out any sperm that might have originated in California.” Catherine agreed with a shrug. “It’s a big country, even without California. I’m sure there are plenty of other sperm out there. And think about this, Mon. Doing it this way I can have the absolute baby of my dreams. I can probably just give them a checklist of attributes I want. Blond hair, blue eyes, IQ over 120.”

Monica rolled her eyes, and Catherine gave her a disapproving look.

“Quit being so discouraging. I’m telling you, my plan is scientifically sound. I’d have a say in all that stuff, whereas if I sit around waiting to fall in love, I’d have to take whatever I’ve fallen for. Gerald wasn’t all that hot looking, but he was smart and seemed nice enough—or so I thought. This way, I can have it all. Oops, we’ll have to finish talking about this later. Here comes dinner.”

And in fact, before Catherine could even pull herself to her feet, the back door opened to admit Monica’s husband and their twelve-year-old daughter, both carrying bags brimming over with small white cartons of Chinese takeout.

“We’re back,” Don Davies announced as though a broad-shouldered six-foot-two man stood a chance of going unnoticed. “And we’ve got supper with us. You two find the plates and silverware yet?”

“We’re not quite ready,” Catherine said as she emptied her bucket into the sink. “We got kind of distracted,” she confessed with a glare at her sister. “But I know what box they’re in.” Catherine had known Donald a long time. The man got cranky when he got hungry. It was best to keep him fed. “Everything go okay?” she asked as she began to rearrange boxes to get at what she hoped was the right one.

“Yep,” Don assured her as he began pulling cartons from the bags and setting them on the kitchen table. “This smells good. I’m starving. We returned the rented van—you owe me an extra twenty-seven bucks, by the way—dropped off John, picked up the food and came right back. Todd and Mary Fran take off?” he asked, naming several more relatives who had helped with the move.

“Yes,” Monica confirmed before Catherine had a chance. “Just a little while ago.”

Don moved all the boxes and papers that had been stacked all over the table and onto the countertop. “There, now we’ve got some room. You find those forks yet?”

“I think so—yes! Here they are.” Catherine looked up from the carton she’d just pulled the flap up from to successfully wave an eating implement.

There was an unexpected knock and all four heads turned to glance curiously at the back door.

“You expecting anybody?” Don asked Catherine, immediately slipping into the role of protective brother-in-law.

Catherine shook her head.

“Well,” Monica huffed, but at least she kept her voice down, “you’d think the neighbors would at least give you a day or two to unpack before they descend on you.”

“Amy, honey, would you get that for me?” Catherine asked. “I’ve still got to find the box with the dinner plates.”

A few moments later Amy returned with a girl about her age. “Aunt Cath,” Amy said, drawing the girl into the room, “this is my friend from school, Maura. Guess what?”

“What?”

“Maura lives right next door to you.”

Catherine said, “Awesome. You can see each other when you’re over, Amy.”

Amy nodded wisely. “I know.”

“And maybe sometimes when I borrow you from your mom so we can go out and do girl stuff, Maura’s mom will let me borrow her, too, and all three of us can go. What do you think?”

“Cool. Isn’t that the best, Maura?” Amy asked.

“Oh, I hardly ever see my mom,” Maura informed Catherine. “She sends me cards and stuff, but she’s too busy with her new family in Chicago and can’t get away to see me too much anymore. But I could ask my dad.” Maura, who’d been looking quite pleased and eager over this new development in her life, appeared suddenly doubtful. “Maybe he’d let me.”

Catherine smiled, briefly flashing her dimples. “It can’t hurt to ask, right?” she said to her new neighbor. But she couldn’t help wondering what kind of father wouldn’t let a child go out on a well-chaperoned excursion to such a nearby and unexotic destination as the local mall. “Amy, has Maura met your mom and dad? Maybe you’d better introduce them.”

Maura turned to beam a smile at Monica and Don. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Davies, remember me? I met you at the girls’ basketball game the other night.”

Before Monica or Don had a chance to respond, there was another knock on the door.

Don eyed the cartons of takeout in long-suffering martyrdom. “Good grief, this is turning into Grand Central Station. We’re never going to get to eat.” He groaned as Monica gave him an elbow in the ribs and a warning frown.

Catherine opened the back door to find a large and rather handsome, albeit frantic-looking, male on her back patio.

“Excuse me,” the stranger began before Catherine could get out a single word, “I live right next door,” and he pointed right next door to illustrate his claim. “My daughter seems to be missing, and I was wondering if by any remote possibility—Maura, there you are. My God, child, you almost put me into an early grave. Don’t ever just take off like that again, do you hear me?”

Catherine looked over her shoulder to see how Maura was taking this parental outburst. The child wore a long-suffering expression that made Catherine smile.

“Daaad,” his progeny moaned in despair. “What did you think, that I got kidnapped or something? I was making a salad like you said for me to do. I looked out the window and saw my friend Amy. I ran over to see if this was her new house, but it’s not. I’m just saying hello, and I’ll be back in a couple of minutes to finish the salad, okay?”

Jason took a calming breath, wondering as he did so if he would live through his daughter’s preadolescence. You could forget the actual teenage years. There was no doubt in his mind he’d be six feet under long before he managed to shepherd her through adolescence, but he would like to eke out another year or two of life before his heart gave up in disgust. “Maura, it wouldn’t have even taken two seconds for you to yell up the stairs and tell me what you were doing. Two seconds.”

“It’s not like I knew you were going to blow a gasket or anything.”

“Honey, I thought you were still mad at me and had taken off again. It took me three hours to find you after I yelled at you for the cigarette pack I found in your room.”

“Well, that wasn’t fair because I was just keeping it for Marissa. She didn’t want her mother to find it at her house.”

Jason arched a brow. “The only reason I even thought to look through your things was because some of your clothing smelled like smoke when I was doing the laundry.”

“Oh. Well—”

“Don’t bother. The point is I’d made it halfway through the student directory before Kelsey Earling’s mother admitted you were there. I wasn’t looking forward to going through that again.”

Jason took a deep breath to settle himself. “Okay. You didn’t run away. You have my apology for thinking such evil thoughts. Now, since you’ve already barged in on the new neighbors, why don’t you introduce me?”

“Cath,” Don practically barked, “the plates?”

“For heaven’s sake, Donald,” Catherine replied tersely. “I found you a fork, didn’t I? Just eat it out of the dam carton and keep quiet.”

Great, thought Jason tiredly. As if he didn’t have enough of it, the new neighbors were the kind who sniped at each other. How wonderful. Patiently he stuck the introductions out. “I understand your husband’s irritation. You’ve had a long day with the moving and all. And we’re interrupting your dinner. My name is Jason Engel, that’s my daughter, Maura, and we are leaving—right now. Maura, say goodbye to your friend. Welcome to the neighborhood. Nice to meet you all. Come on, kiddo, you’ve got a salad to finish up.”

Maura immediately dug in her heels. “But, Dad...”

After a year of raising his daughter all by himself, Jason was finally beginning to understand the necessity of heading this kind of thing off at the pass, child-rearing books be damned. “No ands, ifs, or buts about it, sweetie, we’re going. This falls under the general heading of rudeness and learning how not to be.”

Catherine was enjoying Maura’s antics. As for Jason Engel, well, he seemed frazzled, but all right in his own way. His heart seemed in the right place, at any rate. If she wanted to get to know the daughter better, maybe borrow her if she needed a kid fix and Amy was busy, Catherine knew instinctively she’d have to walk a fine line with the father and avoid alienating him. She could tell he was very protective of his offspring.

“If it’s any consolation,” Monica said to Jason, “your daughter waited a year longer than Amy here before trying a cigarette. Fortunately, it made her as sick as a dog and that was the end of that.”

“Mom,” Amy wailed with a horrified look. “How did you know?”

“You think I didn’t know what was behind your green complexion and upset stomach when you came home from that overnight last fall? With the way your clothing reeked of tobacco? Get real, kid. I wasn’t born yesterday.” Monica looked Jason Engel up and down speculatively. “I’ve got an idea,” she said. You could almost see the proverbial lightbulb flash over her head. “Don bought enough Chinese for one of my brothers and his wife, too, but they had to leave. Why don’t you and Maura finish up your salad and bring it over here? By the time you get back, Catherine or I will have found the plates and we’ll all share what we’ve got.”

Maura looked pleadingly at her father, and he knew if he said no, he’d be out buying more candy bars tomorrow. Oh, well. “Maura, it’s infringing. They haven’t even had a chance to open a box yet—”

“They could all come to our house, couldn’t they, Dad? That wouldn’t be infringing. It would be gracious on our part, right?”

Catherine had to hide a grin at the child’s ingenuousness. She turned her attention back to Jason and waited.

“Ordinarily, you’d be right,” Jason replied. “But as you well know, there are exceptions to every rule. Times when normal protocol doesn’t apply.”

Maura scowled suspiciously. “Like when?”

“Like when somebody gets so excited at seeing somebody they know, they race out of the house without turning off the kitchen faucet.”

Maura studied the floor. “Oh. But nothing bad happ—”

“Like when the lettuce that somebody was washing covers up the drain in that sink, causing it to overflow.”

“Uh-oh.”

“And finally, like when that same somebody’s father races into the kitchen to get to the tap, slides on the wet floor, tries to catch himself only to knock a bottle of salad dressing off the countertop and have it smash all over the floor leaving glass shards everywhere that he hasn’t had time to clean up yet because he went looking for his daughter. That’s like when.”

Maura looked everywhere but at her father. She cleared her throat. “Yes, well, sorry about that, Dad.”

Catherine finally took pity. “Sounds like you’ve had a heck of an afternoon,” she told Jason. “Let the mess sit there for a while. It won’t go anywhere. As long as you don’t object to the chaos here, I don’t mind. Sit down. Eat. Fortify yourself for the cleanup ahead of you.”

Maura looked at her father pleadingly.

Jason rubbed the back of his neck in a tired gesture. “All right, if you’re sure you don’t mind. I’ll go salvage what I can of the salad. I think I’ve got another bottle of salad dressing in the fridge. Maura, you come help.”

Maura grabbed Amy’s hand and tugged her along in her wake. “Amy can come too, right. Dad?”

Jason grunted his agreement as he opened the back door and held it for the two girls. They shot through the opening and kept right on going. He sighed. “When a gentleman holds the door for you, you’re supposed to say ‘thank you,”’ he called after them, shaking his head. Damn, but this parenting was work.

“I don’t have any beer in the house,” Catherine advised him. “I’m afraid you’ll have to bring your own if you don’t want pop or water.”

Jason shook his head regretfully. He could sure use one. “I don’t keep anything alcoholic in the house,” he said with a sigh of regret. Not since Karen had remarried and Maura had come to live with him. Bad example. “Water or soda will be fine. We’ll be back in five minutes, no more, I promise.”

As soon as the door slammed, Monica was up and standing on tiptoes to look out the kitchen window at their retreating backs. “Did you hear what that little girl said, Cath?”

“No, what?”

Monica grabbed both Catherine’s arms and held her still. She spoke softly, not wanting Don to overhear. “Cath, that child said it was just her and her dad living there. The mother’s remarried.”

“Yes, so?”

“So, he’s tall and has a nice body to go along with the height. If his hair was any darker brown it would be black, eyes to match. He’s as handsome as sin. Good God, the man even has manners. Forget about your blond, blue-eyes fetish for a minute. Did you see the way he held the door for the girls? My gosh, if I can see it, why can’t you? That, my dear, is prime marital material! I’m thinking that you can still have it all! Why, any idiot with even minimal level hormones could fall for that hunk. All you would have to do is get him to fall in love with you, and presto, instant family.”

Chapter Two

Catherine couldn’t keep her jaw from dropping open. “I can only hope,” she whispered to her sister, “that whatever form of madness you have suddenly developed is not genetic in nature. I find you downright frightening at times—especially since we’re related.”

With a flick of her hand, Monica brushed Catherine’s insult off. “Let’s think about this with an open mind, sister, dear. The man was tall, he was dark, he was handsome. He conveniently lives right next door. In my opinion you could make beautiful babies together.”

“You are insane. We’ve barely met the man and you’re already marrying me off to him?”

“What are you two whispering about over there? Would you kill me if we started without them, Monica? I’m half-dead from hunger,” Don grumped.

“We’re talking about what a grouch you are when you’re hungry, Don.”

Don managed a wounded look. “I’m a paragon, a saint, I tell you. I put up with the two of you, don’t I?”

Monica turned her back on her husband and resumed her lecture. “Think about the embarrassment factor of doing it your way, Cath. Even if we manage to locate one of those sperm bank places, you’re going to have to walk in and explain what you want. Think about that, sweetie pie.”

Catherine did, flushed and swallowed hard. “Oh, well, when you put it that way I can see that this idea of yours makes perfect sense. Just tell me one thing.

“What’s that?”

“If I’m not brave enough to march into a sperm bank and explain what I want, and let’s face it, they’d have to at least have a suspicion of what’s on my mind—only carrying one product the way they do—what makes you think I’ll be able to propose marriage and parenthood to Jason Engel?”

Monica sighed and closed her eyes. “Nobody’s asking you to propose tonight, Cath. Patience is its own reward, remember that. You’ll be living right next door to the man. All you have to do is make sure you spend some time together every now and again over the next little while, so that any little seeds we plant get a chance to bear fruit.”

“They’re here,” Don announced, as a brief knock sounded on the back door before the handle turned.

“We’re back,” Amy announced, running into the room. “The water’s mopped up and the glass is gone, but the floor’s still kind of slippery and slidey.”

“Come on in,” Catherine called to Jason and Maura.

“We’ll finish our discussion later,” Monica insisted under her breath to Catherine before going to take the salad bowl from Maura.

“No, we won’t,” Catherine returned just as quietly, tossing her hair out of her face with an exasperated motion. Honestly, sometimes Monica could be downright scary. Catherine crossed over to Jason and relieved him of the paper plates, cups and two liters of pop he’d brought as an additional offering. “Thank you,” she said, smiling up at him. “This was very thoughtful.”

“You’re welcome,” Jason replied. “I’m afraid it was all I could come up with in terms of an impromptu housewarming gift.”

“It’s perfect,” Catherine assured him, already unscrewing the cap on the cola bottle. “It’s been a distressing day. I could use a jolt of caffeine right about now.” She gave Monica a meaningful look.

“I bet. Here, let me do that,” Jason said, pulling several cups out of the plastic sleeve they’d come wrapped in. “How about your husband and your friend? What would they like?”

“What husband?” Catherine asked, as she watched his strong hands take over the task of pouring drinks. “Oh, you mean him? Donald? That’s not my husband—”

“Kindly refrain from referring to me as a that,” Don interjected. He’d already confiscated the paper plates and was spooning out large quantities of rice onto one. “I am a he, at least I was before I started withering up and dying from lack of nutrition.”

“That grouch over there,” Catherine indicated, as though her brother-in-law hadn’t spoken, “belongs to my sister, Monica. She actually loves him.” Catherine pointed in Monica’s direction. “Amy is theirs.”

Jason took a quick look around the kitchen, then leaned slightly back to glance down the hallway that bisected the front of the house. He hadn’t missed anybody. “Then you’re not—?”

Catherine shook her head in a determinedly cheerful manner. “Nope, I’m not married. Free as a breeze.” There was a brief flash of panic crossing her new neighbor’s face, and Catherine knew he was envisioning being hunted. She almost laughed out loud. The man would die if he knew how close he was to being right, provided Monica got her way.

A quick look behind Jason brought Monica into focus. Her sister’s eyes were crossed in an obvious sign of disapproval. Monica must have thought she was being too flippant. Too bad. Catherine would be nice to the man, friendly, but only because he had a daughter she was pretty sure she’d enjoy being around. The child seemed to be such a stereotypical preadolescent it was downright funny, at least from Catherine’s point of view. But she was not going to bother struggling to understand the male mind again. No way. Forget it.

“You’re blowing it,” Monica whispered as she passed by on her way to the table. “Subtlety is the key here. We’re only planting seeds, remember?”

“Put a sock in it, Mon,” Catherine advised her sister cheerfully. “I don’t care if I blow it or not. I’m implementing plan B whether you approve or not.”

Monica, however, was not to be deterred. She switched to a high-beam smile as Jason approached the table, several cups of soda held firmly between his two large hands.

“Here we go, everybody,” Jason said heartily. “Pop all around.” But underneath the external good cheer, he just wanted to eat and get out of there. He’d been hunted too many times both before and after his divorce not to be nervous about having a single woman move in next door. He was not interested. No sirree, not him. There was no such thing as happily ever after. He’d learned that the hard way. He might take the chance if he was on his own and he’d be the only one paying the price for failure, but Maura had had enough upheaval in her young life. He was off the playing field until Maura was safely grown.

He looked at Catherine Nicholson as she sipped her drink and almost groaned out loud. It would be tough going if they had to spend any time together. No mistaking it, this was one extremely attractive woman. Even all hot and bothered looking from her rough day, Catherine exuded sex appeal. Now that his heart had dropped back down into his chest after his daughter’s disappearing act, he could see that. A good woman to steer clear of, as a matter of fact. At least until his head could convince the lower part of his body to swallow the company line he was trying to feed it.

He despaired over the injustices of life. Why couldn’t she be safely married? Or if she had to be single, why couldn’t she be ugly? But no, there was absolutely nothing harsh or unattractive about her. Hair the color of ripe chestnuts curled under gently along her jawline and it angled up toward the back of her head, forming a saucy high wedge. Her eyes were a soft, medium brown framed by thick spiky lashes, and her skin was creamy and without blemish. There was not even a single freckle with enough nerve to marr the smooth arch of her high cheekbones. And her body was nicely padded in all the places a man appreciated a bit of padding. He didn’t know if he could handle having that body right next door, unattached, available for pursuing. He ground his teeth in frustration.

You, Jason silently informed himself, had just better be on your guard. You cannot even begin to entertain the type of prurient thoughts you are already considering. Not while Maura is at such an impressionable age. Just stop it.

Jason consciously averted his eyes from Catherine’s cameo profile and sat. Catherine handed him the Mongolian beef container, so he was forced to turn his head briefly in her direction, but as soon as he had a firm grip on the carton, he returned his eyes to look directly in front of him. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

After checking around that everyone else had a plateful, Jason spooned a large amount of rice onto his plate, then topped it with an equally large amount of the beef. He tore the top off a little plastic envelope of soy and squeezed that liberally over the mound and picked up his fork. Jason had it loaded and halfway to his mouth when something Maura said earlier clicked and he dropped the fork with a clatter.

“The crib,” he said before he could think how it would sound. “You have a baby?”

Jason cringed. He didn’t mean to sound judgmental, but he was already attracted to her. And he could tell Maura had taken an interest in her, as well. He was not unaware of the lack of feminine guidance in his daughter’s life, he just didn’t know what to do about it. He had no sisters, and his former wife had “gotten on with her life,” an event that seemed to exclude her own daughter. It just might be good for Maura to spend some time with Amy and her aunt. They seemed close. But not if the woman had no morals.

“Are you divorced?” he asked hopefully. That would explain a baby.

“Divorced?” Catherine asked. “No, I’m not divorced. I’ve never been married. And I don have a baby. Where’d you get that idea?”

“But you moved in a crib,” Maura said, obviously confused. “I saw it. I was going to ask you if I could baby-sit for you. I took the Red Cross baby-sitting course and everything.”

“The crib,” Monica repeated, sounding a bit panicky to Catherine’s ears. “That’s easy to explain.”

Catherine’s eyes widened at that. It was? This she had to hear.

“It’s an heirloom,” Monica announced baldly, and Catherine blinked at the blatant lie. “Handed down through my, um, mother’s side for several generations.

Don looked up from his rapidly shrinking mountain of cashew chicken. “It is?” he asked in surprise. “I thought it was another one from the shop.”

“Well you thought wrong,” his wife told him.

“How come we didn’t use it?” her spouse continued.

“Because it’s an heirloom handed down to the youngest daughter of the family, that’s why,” Monica informed him in a rather severe voice.

“Oh,” Don said. nodding wisely. “Your family always was a little weird. Sounds like something strange they’d come up with.” His interest returned to his plate of food, and Catherine breathed a sigh of relief. This was the reason she rarely lied. Somehow the lie always snowballed, and you ended up a nervous wreck while you tried to keep things plausible and remain undiscovered in your deceit. In the process, your digestive juices turned on your stomach wall and before you knew it, presto, instant ulcer. Before she could check Jason’s face to see if he’d swallowed Monica’s ridiculous explanation, Amy interrupted.

“Aunt Cath?”

“Yes. Amy?”

“You know how we were going shopping and out to lunch on Saturday so you could get your kid fix?”

Jason’s head snapped up. He stared first at Amy, then at Catherine.

Across the table Catherine could see Monica’s eyes were closed and she was shaking her head. “Uh, yeah. What about it?” Not only did she now owe Monica another favor—since Amy had just made it clear they had already made plans together for Saturday, and it wasn’t to pay Monica back for helping today—but even a quick sideways glance in Jason’s direction told her he was back on red alert. Well. too bad. That was his problem. He’d figure out she wasn’t interested sooner or later. Meanwhile it was sort of entertaining, in a perverse sort of way, to watch him squirm.

“Well, maybe Maura could come with us. That way,” she continued brightly, “I’d have a friend and you could get a double kid fix all for one trip to the mall. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

Catherine propped her elbow on the table, her chin in her hand, while she considered the idea. Actually, it wasn’t bad. “Two for the price of one, huh? Sure, why not? It’s okay with me if it’s okay with Maura’s dad.”

“Kid fix?” Jason questioned, raising a rather formidable brow at her.

Catherine gave him an arch look in return. Let him think what he liked. “I enjoy kids. So what? Just because I’m unmarried and have no children of my own does not mean I don’t appreciate their company and value their friendship.”

“Yeah, Dad, some people like being around kids.”

“Some people aren’t responsible for a child’s formation and upbringing. They can afford to let down their guard and just have fun. I’d love to kick back and relax with you, Maura. Unfortunately, I’ve got all the responsibilities of being both parents to you, and that’s got to take precedence.”

Catherine smiled at Maura. “He’s got you there, sweet cheeks. When I’ve had my kid fix for the day, or you get bratty, I can just send you home and go on my merry way. Your dad can’t do that. He’s in it for the long haul and deserves a lot of respect. Having fun with you is the easy part. Disciplining is hard, though. And judging by what I can see, your dad’s doing one heck of a job.”

Maura looked doubtful, but Amy cut in. “So she can come?”

“If you don’t mind sharing, it’s okay with me, but like I said, Maura will have to get her father’s permission.”

Maura clasped her hands in front of her. “Please, Daddy,” she pleaded. “You can’t object to this. She’s a grown-up and everything.”

Giving permission would get him out of the doghouse with his darling progeny, but dam it, Saturday was his day to spend quality time with Maura. Not that his daughter wouldn’t probably have a better time without him around—which hurt. “Maura, I’d be willing to take you to the mall. I’ve offered several times—”

“But I want to go with Amy and her Aunt Cath. Please?” his daughter begged.

“I thought you and I could do something together that day. If you don’t want to go to the mall with me, maybe we could—”

Monica cleared her throat and smiled. “I’ve got an idea,” she said, sounding very much like the cat that swallowed the cream. “Why don’t you go along with them, Jason? The four of you could all go together and spend the day at the mall. Go to lunch. Maybe even see a movie if you get shopped out.” Monica shot an ingenuous smile at her sister.

Catherine blinked. She’d been outmaneuvered. Darn her sister’s rotten hide. “Jason might not be comfortable spending his day with three women, Monica. You know how men are about shopping. You shouldn’t put him on the spot like that.”

Jason sighed. This really was not the way he wanted to spend half of his precious weekend. Still, it was probably the only way he’d spend time with Maura without getting himself further into the doghouse. “No, it’s all right,” he said. “I’d be a fool to turn down the opportunity to escort three such beautiful women anywhere, even the mall. I’ll drive. I’ll even spring for lunch.”

“Dad!” Maura wailed. “Everything will be wrecked if you come along!”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Maura, I happen to know that the only time you even acknowledge my presence when we’re out in public is when it’s time to get out the credit cards. Otherwise I’m pretty much just a background fixture. How will my coming along ruin things?” He already knew the answer. It just didn’t make any sense to him.

“Because you’re my father!” his daughter cried. “Couldn’t you just give me some money and let me go with them?”

Jason rubbed his eyes tiredly. He wanted to be a friend to his daughter, God knew he did. Was it his fault Maura kept pushing him into the roll of disciplinarian? “Maura,” he began patiently, “by choosing to force the issue here and now instead of waiting until we’re alone and could talk this out, you’ve put me in the position where I’ll have to speak plainly and possibly embarrass you and your friend.”

Maura’s eyes widened in consternation.

“You’ve been wanting to go to the mall, and I have offered several times to take you. Here’s an opportunity for you to get what you want. But Saturday is my day to spend some time with you. I’m afraid you’re going to have to suffer my company or lose the trip.”

Maura’s lower lip was stuck out about a half a yard, Jason thought as he measured it with his eyes. This was one unhappy little girl. “Come on, honey, give a little, get a little. You’re going to have to learn the fine art of compromise.”

Catherine decided to put in her two cents’ worth. She was unwillingly starting to like and respect this Jason Engel. He wasn’t afraid to stick to his guns, not even in the face of some formidable preadolescent resistance. “Your dad’s right, Maura. You’re a very lucky girl that he cares enough to be so careful of you. Let’s give him a break and let him come along. Next time we’ll make it all girls, all right?”

Maura looked to Amy for final approval.

Amy shrugged.

Maura turned to Catherine and her father and reluctantly nodded. “Okay, I guess.”

Jason felt like he’d just won a major victory. He wanted to stand up and shout alleluia, possibly turn a few cartwheels, but he merely nodded at his daughter to indicate he’d heard. “Ten o’clock Saturday morning?” he asked Catherine.

“Sounds good,” Catherine said.

Jason looked at his plate. Somehow, in the midst of all the negotiations, he’d managed to clean it up. He pushed back his chair. “Good. Maura and I will pick you and Amy up. But for now we’ll help you clean up, and then I’m afraid we’ve got to get going. Maura’s got homework to do and I’ve got some paperwork waiting for me. Maura, you clear the table and put all the plates in the trash, and I’ll close up the containers and stash them in the fridge.”

“You don’t have to—”

“We insist, don’t we, Maura?” Her dad arched that impressive brow in his daughter’s direction.

“But—”

“Forget it, Ms. Nicholson,” Maura said, whisking Catherine’s plate away from in front of her. “Dad’s a real stickler about not taking advantage and always pitching in when somebody’s done something nice for you.”

“Oh, well...”

The table was cleared and the leftover takeout already in the refrigerator. Catherine was still in her chair. The man worked fast. She’d have to remember that. “I guess I’ll see you Saturday, then,” she said weakly.

Jason nodded, Maura was more verbose. She had her arm around Amy, and they walked to the door together. “We’ll still have fun on Saturday, even with my dad along,” Maura bubbled, her head close to Amy’s. “You’ll see. There’s just this one little problem I need to figure out.” She looked furtively over her shoulder.

Jason was no more than two steps behind. It would have been impossible not to hear, but he was getting good at pretending. In dealing with a preadolescent, he had discovered it was the better part of valor. There were enough big things you had to make a stand on that if you included the non-life-threatening stuff, as well, there’d never be a moment’s peace. So, he kept his head up and his eyes straight ahead, pretending not to hear. If his daughter thought she and her friend were going to ditch him once they hit the mall, they had another think coming.

“We’ll talk about it at school,” Maura told her friend, much to Jason’s disappointment. Oh, well, Maura wasn’t very good at keeping secrets. He’d find out sooner or later.

Catherine’s store was closed Mondays, which was why she’d chosen it as a moving day. The next morning found her back at her shop, Hand Arounds, doing her best to concentrate on the work in front of her rather than on the boxes waiting to be unpacked at her new house.

“Yes, I’m quite sure that you paid $16.00 for that blouse brand-new, Mrs. Conroy, but I’ll only be able to get $3.00 for it secondhand, which means I can only pay you $1.50 for it. The jumper would be $3.50 and I’d be able to do $1.50 for the pants. See where they’re slightly frayed? If you want to change your mind about selling your daughter’s things, I understand, but I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.”

While Catherine waited for the balking Mrs. Conroy to make up her mind, she thought about Jason Engel.

Was her sister right?

No, of course not. Monica was a nutcase. She was never right.

Well, she wasn’t totally wrong, either, Catherine admitted. The idea of trying to find a sperm bank and implement her idea was nerve-racking as all get-out. That much she’d give Monica. But Jason Engel as husband and father of her dream child? Uh-uh. No way. She’d liked Gerald, but the decision to marry him had been almost intellectual. She’d weighed the pros and cons carefully then made her choice. Her heart had been involved, certainly, but not to the extent that her feelings had overridden her intellect.

Somehow she doubted she’d get away with such lukewarm responses to any involvement with Jason Engel. Which meant that if she ever lost her heart to a virile specimen like that, she’d certainly never recover.

Catherine rang up two pair of booties at seventy-five cents each and a terry cloth sleeper for $2.50 while she pondered the problem.

She liked Maura. Under all that preadolescent angst, Maura was a decent kid who’d turn out just fine provided her dad stayed on top of things. She had a pretty little face. She’d seen it when the child had briefty stopped scowling. It would be nice if Catherine’s baby, when she came, had hair as nice and thick as Maura’s.

The girl had nice-colored eyes, too. They matched her dad’s, and the gene for brown was dominant. She could live with that, Catherine decided. Especially if they came with the same dark, spiky lashes that Maura had.

Catherine made change for a five-dollar bill and handed over the sack of clothing. “Thanks. You come in again. We get new merchandise all the time. Still thinking, Mrs. Conroy? No problem. I’m not going anywhere. Take your time.”

When it came right down to it, Catherine would like a daughter just like Maura Engel. Maybe what she should do is simply make a list cataloging all the things she liked about Jason and Maura and present it at the sperm bank. See if they had anything that would come close. She sure would like a little girl baby that would grow up with all the promise of beauty that Maura Engel displayed. Catherine looked over at the rack of pink sleepers in the newborn section.

Yes, she sure would like that.

Chapter Three

Catherine thought of little else but her new neighbor for the next two days. It didn’t really affect her work. She could sort baby things in her sleep. Someone brought in a pair of little booties crocheted to look like brown-and-white saddle shoes complete with baby blue socks, and a second pair that looked like Mary Janes also having the sock crocheted right into the pattern. They were too cute to sell. Catherine paid the woman two bucks a pair and brought them home with her Thursday after she closed the shop. She put them up in the spare bedroom with the still-unassembled “heirloom” crib. Then she called her sister.

“Monica? Hi, it’s Cath. I’ve been thinking. Since my next-door neighbor seems to have taken over this trip to the mall and claimed driving privileges before I could open my mouth, maybe it would be best if Amy stayed overnight tomorrow night. What do you think?”

“Sounds like fun. Don’s got some kind of business function that’ll probably last till late. Maybe I’ll come, too, but just for the evening. We could order in pizza and rent a chick flick, just the three of us. You don’t think Amy’s too young for a girls’ night out, do you?”

“Depends on the flick we pick.”

There was a thoughtful pause. “Yeah. Well, we’ll be careful, that’s all.” Monica cleared her throat delicately. “Uh, Cath, I’ve been doing a little investigating for you.”

Catherine closed her eyes and leaned against the kitchen wall for support. “No. Tell me you haven’t been out there asking obvious questions and embarrassing me. Monica, how could you?”

“Take it easy, I didn’t use your name. I said it was for a friend.”

“Oh, yeah, right. We’ve only lived here forever. Anybody you asked knows me and is going to put two and two together real quick.”

“Will you stop? What’s done is done. Now just listen to what I’ve found out. Cath?”

“What?” Catherine concentrated on opening a can of soup. She poured it into a bowl and stuck the bowl in the microwave. She remembered to take the spoon out at the last second.

“I really wish you’d at least consider waiting a bit longer, see if there’s a chance of things working out with the new next-door neighbor or somebody else before, you know, you go do the other thing.”

Catherine took her soup out of the microwave and stirred it a bit. “You mean before I go to the sperm bank?”

“Yes. The information I got isn’t complete, you know, because I was being so subtle and everything, but what it boils down to is there are a few things we failed to consider the other night when we were talking about this.”

Catherine retrieved the bowl of soup and carefully sipped a spoonful. “Like what?”

“Your ob-gyn is the one who would know where the closest sperm bank is. In fact, you’d probably have to get a referral from him, I bet. At least that’s what Alice Moran thought.”

“Oh, God, you weren’t talking to Alice about this, were you? Tell me you didn’t do that to me.”

“Yes, I did, and I can’t unask her, so cool it and think about what she said. It makes sense.”

Catherine forgot to blow on the next spoonful in her agitation and ended up burning her mouth. “Oh, damn,” she moaned. “Monica, I’ve been going to him for years. He knows I’m not married. What’s he going to think?”

“That you want a baby. Come on, Catherine, even if you go the live male route, you’re still going to have to get prenatal care. He’s going to figure it out either way. I’m telling you, if you stick to doing things the way you’re talking about, there’s a lot of this kind of thing you’re going to be faced with.”

Catherine slumped over the countertop. “Oh, God. This is all getting to be too much. I had planned to find a place where nobody knew me and I didn’t know anybody and have it done, I don’t know—anonymously.”

“I get the feeling that if you want to be anonymous about this, you’re going to have to wear a bag over your head,” Monica warned.

Catherine poured the rest of the soup down the disposal, unable to finish it now. Well, she’d known the sperm bank approach would be clinical and unromantic. But then again, there wasn’t much romantic about finding out your fiancé was two-timing you, either. So she’d cope with the embarrassment. There was no viable alternative as far as she was concerned. “I’ll think about it,” she said, knowing she wouldn’t

“That’s all I ask. We’ll come by around six-thirty tomorrow night, okay? That should give you just enough time to get home. I’ll order the pizza on my way out the door so you’ll have time to change before it gets there.”

“Fine. Thanks.”

“See you then.”

Catherine hung up the phone feeling disgruntled and put upon. Man, this simple little project—having a baby—was starting to develop a life of its own and turn ugly on her. How was she ever going to work up the courage to do this?

“I’ll pick up some paint Saturday afternoon after we’re back from the mall,” she told herself as she rinsed out her soup bowl. “Yellow. That can go either way, boy or girl. I’ll paint the nursery and set up the crib. That’ll make it more real and give me courage.”

With that, she turned out the lights and went upstairs to run her hand along the beautiful canopy crib leaning against one of the walls. Then she took out the Mary Jane booties and studied them for several minutes. Baby things. Her baby’s things. Her up-until-she-did-something-about-it, nonexistent baby’s things.

She went to bed, exhausted.

Amy and Monica showed up promptly at six-thirty the next night, the pizza man on their heels.

“Well, you two certainly didn’t waste any time getting here.”

“Heck no, we’re starved,” Amy informed her aunt. “We got a bag of baby carrots at the store and some crackers with spinach dip. Mom says we have to have more vegetables than just the tomato sauce on the pizza.”

“Sounds reasonable, I guess.”

“Did Maura call yet?”

Catherine’s brows rose. “No, are we expecting her to?”

Amy shrugged out of her windbreaker and dropped it on the floor by the kitchen door next to her sleeping bag and a plastic bag with her pillow and overnight stuff. “Well, yeah. I happened to mention that Mom and I were coming over here, and she was going to see if her dad would let her come over for the pizza and movie part and then maybe even sleep over, if it’s okay with you. You always fall asleep so early, Aunt Cath, you know you do.”

Catherine glanced at her sister. “Did she just tell me that I’m getting old?”

Monica shrugged and set the pizza she’d taken from the delivery boy on the kitchen countertop. “You already knew it, anyway, Cath. Isn’t that why you decided on an alternate route to your goal?”

“I know, but—”

“Pick up your coat, Amy. You dropped it on the floor right underneath the hook where it’s supposed to be hung. How much extra time would it have taken to put it where it belonged instead of on the floor where someone will step on it...and right after I just washed it?”

“Don’t worry, Mom, nobody’s going to walk on it.”

“I’ll make a point of walking on it myself if you don’t hang it up.”

Amy seemed unconcerned. She lifted the corner of the pizza box and sniffed deeply. “You’d just be creating more work for yourself, because then you’d only have to wash it again. Can we eat now?”

Catherine had to turn her head to keep from laughing at her sister’s frustration. Monica’s eyes had narrowed to slits. “Pick the coat up now, Amy Marie.”

Amy rolled her eyes and stomped back over to the door. She snatched her jacket off the floor and jammed it onto a hook. “There. Satisfied?”

Monica, paragon of virtue that she was, simply nodded and said, “Yes. Thank you. Now you can have some pizza.” Then, with her daughter safely occupied stuffing her face, she turned to glare at Catherine. “You can afford to laugh now,” she whispered to her sister, “but just wait. If you go through with this you’ll find out. Babies are just like kittens and puppies. They grow up and turn into—” Monica waved a disdainful hand at her own progeny “—that.”

“You mean a typical teenager?”

Monica shuddered. “Yes. And let me tell you, it’s a whole lot easier to put up with when they’re just visiting, and you can send them back to wherever they came from when you feel the need for some peace and quiet. It’s a different story when there’s no place to go to escape them. Twenty-four hours a day, they’re there right on top of you, driving you nuts, making you question your own sanity.”

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