What The Nursery Needs...

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.”