The Baby Consultant

No answer, just his machine.

Doggone it, enough was enough. She’d been patient, and relatively pleasant, for a month now. This was inexcusable.

She needed those photos. If Jack Ferris wouldn’t answer his phone, she was going to camp on his doorstep until she got back her portfolio.

The address turned out to be a pretty brick condo that looked spacious and pricey from the outside. She rang the bell five times, but no one answered, and she heard no voices or noise from inside. As she expected, the door was locked. Dam that man! In addition to being an annoying flirt, he was irresponsible. She’d told him during their meeting that she couldn’t be without the photos for very long. He’d promised to call her within the week.

One week. Hah! Soon it would be four of them. She’d noticed a framed university diploma on his wall, so she knew he’d been taught to count. Obviously the lesson hadn’t stuck.

The condo was an end unit. Anger made her bold and she marched around to the back and mounted the two-level wooden deck. There was a sliding glass door just to the left of an enormous barbecue grill, and she walked over and peered inside. The vertical blinds were pulled back, and she could see a kitchen with a dining area and beyond that, the beginnings of a living room. The counters were nearly immaculate, spoiled only by a lone coffee cup resting on its side and a newspaper which had spilled from the counter to the floor.

Weird. The place was immaculate otherwise. Those two small hints at sloppiness didn’t fit. None of her brothers could manage to pick up after themselves, but it wasn’t selective. Everything they owned was a jumbled mess. Maybe Jack had a cleaning lady who just hadn’t been in yet this week.

Still... something bothered her. It looked almost as if Jack had gone tearing off somewhere in a tremendous hurry, and hadn’t been back since.

Well, it was none of her concern, she told herself firmly, as she descended the wooden steps and walked back the way she had come. All she wanted was her property back. Then he could—

A silver sports car pulled into the driveway beside her van just as she opened the driver’s door. Through its windshield, she caught a glimpse of Jack Ferris’s face, which was obscured by the frame as the car slid to a smooth stop beside her.

Finally! She was elated. It was rare for her to get angry, and rarer still for her to utter so much as a sharp word, but several choice ones sprang to the front of her mind. She started to step around to the driver’s side, but stopped in her tracks, staring through the passenger side window. In the passenger seat was strapped an infant car seat.

And in the car seat was what appeared to be a very young baby, screaming its little head off.

Before the sight really had time to register, Jack popped out of the car exactly like a child’s jack-in-the-box, arms waving wildly and hair disheveled. Only no one pushed him back down into his box. He sprinted around the car, sparing Frannie a distracted, mildly puzzled glance and a “Hi,” as he tore open the passenger door and started to release the restraints holding the infant in place.

With the door open, the baby’s shrieks increased in volume immediately. Its little voice sounded hoarse, like it had been screaming for a while, and its little fists and face were red with rage.

Jack scooped up the baby awkwardly, holding it loosely in one arm. His other hand made patting motions in the air near the child’s kicking, cycling legs, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to go about comforting the baby. Then he turned to face Frannie.

“Uh, Miss Brooks, right?”

“Yes.” She strove to keep her voice crisp and professional, though it was getting more and more difficult to ignore the infant squalling between them. “I’ve been trying to contact you. I need my portfolio back. Immediately.”

Jack juggled the child into his other arm and reached behind the seat for a pale yellow diaper bag, stuffed to the brim. The child kept screaming. “Oh, man...” He shook his head. “I completely forgot you. I bet you’d like to clobber me.”

He straightened up and for the first time she saw how very weary he looked. His eyes were dull and red rimmed, and his hair was standing on end where it was long enough on the top. The squirming child slipped a little in his grip and Frannie reacted automatically, placing her hands beneath the baby’s tiny body. She couldn’t stand that screaming another minute. It cut at her soft heart and reminded her of all the nieces and nephews she’d rocked to sleep over the years.

“May I?” She slipped one hand up under the little wobbly head as Jack nodded immediately.

“Please,” he said, and it was heartfelt. He released the baby and Frannie automatically shifted it into a close embrace against her shoulder, cupping the padded bottom with one hand while the other rubbed small, soothing circles around the infant’s tiny back. She realized she had started a patter of gentle baby talk, rocking gently from side to side the moment the child settled into her arms, and she huffed out a breath of amused resignation at herself. Old habits came back dangerously easily.

Jack had gone around to the trunk and was lifting out a portable crib and several other bags. Buried beneath all the items he was balancing in his grip, he came around to Frannie’s side and peered down at the baby. The child finally was quieting, its little chest catching in occasional spasms as its sobs subsided.

“How’d you do that?” he demanded. “She’s been screaming since the moment we got off the plane.”

Frannie was astonished. “You’ve been flying with her?” She realized the child was a girl as she noted his use of the feminine pronoun.

He nodded. “It’s a long story. But I’m sure you’re not interested.” He hesitated. “Could you hold her until I get the stuff out of the car and set up this crib?”

Frannie nodded.

“The thing is,” he said over his shoulder as he started for the door, “your pictures are at my office. If you can wait until tomorrow, I’ll get my secretary to deliver them personally first thing in the morning. The office has been closed—that’s why you couldn’t reach anyone.” He shook his head. “I’m really sorry. I thought I had all the loose ends tied up.”

She trailed along behind him, crooning to the baby. Her portfolio seemed less important now, and she was ashamed of her anger. Whatever he’d been doing, Jack clearly hadn’t simply neglected to get her things back to her. “That would be fine.”

Stepping through the door, she took in the expensive furniture and the lush, deep pile of the carpet. Jack had dumped a pile of baby accessories on the couch and was pulling open the portable crib. Unfortunately, it was designed like most things that were advertised as easy to set up and take down. As fast as he pushed one side into place, another snapped back up. He finally got smart and planted one enormous loafer at one end, using his upper body to stretch the two opposing sides. That left one more side to be pulled into place, and Frannie took pity on him. She walked over and got a firm grip on the rail with her free hand. “Okay, now pull,” she said.

The crib popped open and Jack stood back with a sigh. “Thanks. Why don’t you just put her down in there while I get the rest of the stuff? She’ll probably play or something until I get unpacked.”

He was kidding. She hoped. Cautiously she pointed to a mechanism on the bottom of the crib. “You need to push this down to lock it into place. Otherwise, it could fold up with her in it.”

Jack stared at the little lever. “Oh.” He reached down and secured it. “It’s a good thing you’re here.”

“Um, I hate to be a busybody, but I don’t think she’s going to be very happy if I put her down.” Frannie glanced at the baby, who wasn’t screaming anymore, but was definitely beginning to root around, banging her little head against Frannie’s sweater in a vain quest for dinner.

Jack looked dubious. “Well, I’ll take her. I guess I can unpack with one hand.”

He started to reach for the child with a distinctly apprehensive expression on his face.

“Jack.”

“What?” He paused.

She waited, but he seemed genuinely oblivious to the infant’s increasingly restless behavior. Finally she said, “I think she’s hungry.”

He smacked himself in the forehead. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? The lady on the plane said she’d probably get hungry every three or four hours.”

This was getting stranger and stranger. Frannie couldn’t imagine what Jack Ferris was doing with this baby. Clearly, he didn’t have the faintest notion of how to care for her. “How long has it been since she was changed?” she asked.

He speared one hand through his hair and Frannie realized why it was standing on end. “I don’t know. I guess since...I think one of the flight attendants changed her.”

“You think? Where is her mother, Jack?” And why on God’s green earth would she entrust her to your care!

Jack’s shoulders sagged. “Her mother is dead.” He looked at the baby. “I’m all she’s got now.”

Her mother is dead. Whatever answer she’d imagined, that one had been far, far from even making the list. Slowly, she sank down on the edge of the sofa. The weight of the baby in her arms suddenly seemed vitally warm and alive, precious and fragile. She looked down at the little girl, noting the dusting of blond hair, the flushed cheek and tiny, perfect lips.

“Do you mean you’re keeping her?” She hated to keep asking intrusive questions, but her conscience would not, absolutely could not, let her walk away from this place until she was sure the infant was being properly cared for.

Jack sat down opposite her on a wide hassock. “Yes. I’m her legal guardian, and her only living relative.” His elbows rested on his knees, and his big hands dangled between them. He dropped his head.

This puzzle didn’t have enough pieces for her to even frame it up with all the straight edges. “Is she...are you the father?”

Jack’s head shot up. “Of course not!” He glared at her.

She shrugged. “It was a logical question.” The baby was growing angry again, and she stood and rocked her. “Maybe we’d better change her and feed her.”

“Right.” He stood, too, and looked around for the diaper bag. Then he hesitated, turning back to her. “Miss Brooks—”