What The Nursery Needs...

“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.