“Okay, you guys, now that you’ve organized my weekend, shove off and let me get this kid to bed.”
When, at long last they were gone, Mike tucked Brian into bed, telling him, “I’m a very responsible babysitter. Have you ever had a wet diaper longer than thirty seconds? Don’t I feed you well, given what I have to work with? Isn’t Allie the best nanny in the world?”
Brian smiled, and his eyelids drooped.
“In the short run,” Mike said sadly, “I’m the kind of guy anybody would be willing to leave a kid with, but, little brother, we’re in it for the long haul.”
ALLIE WAS PLEASED with what she’d accomplished even while missing Brian like crazy and wishing she were with him. And Mike.
She’d scoured the bathroom and gotten the kitchen cleaned up enough to stand walking into it, put the clutter of paper and magazines in the living room into a box and vacuumed her favorite chair.
While she worked, she planned a color scheme for the benefit dinner. All white would have been more formal, but the foliage would be sporting its brilliant fall colors at the time of the benefit, and she’d decided to take advantage of it. The rental company offered rust-colored tablecloths she’d combine with napkins in a soft maple-leaf red-orange and an aspen yellow. She’d alternate the colors at each table. Cream plates, cups and saucers. Centerpieces of chrysanthemums in coordinating colors.
She’d been thinking of Mike and his “gourmet meat and potatoes” menu while she made her choices. The colors would complement the food, as if his cooking even needed complementing. She should check it out with Lilah, though.
She glanced at Mrs. Langston’s wall clock, a beautiful walnut antique. Nine-thirty. She shouldn’t call Lilah at this hour. She’d do it in the—
Her cell phone rang. “Lilah!” she said. “I was just wondering if it was too late to call you.”
“Almost, but not quite,” Lilah said. “Daniel and Ian dropped in on Mike and found him playing daddy tonight, so I thought I’d give you a call and see how you and Brian are getting along.”
“He’s a lot more fun than a stack of dirty plates,” Allie said. “So far, so good. He’s the most darling child I’ve ever known. Happy—well, almost always—curious, smart, cooperative…he’s remarkable.”
“I’m so glad you’re taking care of him,” Lilah said. “It’s a match made in heaven.”
Allie laughed. “Well, I’m certainly enjoying myself. Incidentally—” And she launched into a description of the color scheme she’d just decided to go with.
“Sounds gorgeous,” Lilah said. “Warm, cozy colors for a cold fall night. Go with it.”
“Thanks. Oh, I have a question for you. Do you have any suggestions for things to do with babies?”
“How odd,” Lilah said. “Mike was talking about the same thing.”
“It was Mike’s own idea. He asked me to look for possibilities. I know about the big attractions all over the state, but I’m wondering if he should start with something low-key and close to home.”
“I’ll do some thinking,” Lilah said. “Daniel and Ian are bugging Mike to take Brian somewhere this weekend.”
“I’m sure he’ll think of something wonderful,” Allie said.
“I just hope it’s not a kitchenware store.” Lilah snickered. “Before I hang up, are you happy in Mrs. Langston’s house?”
“Oh, yes.” Allie sighed. “Bless her heart, she must have kept everything she’s ever owned. Maybe everything three generations of collectors have owned. I’m standing here looking at two china cupboards and one of those lighted display cases chock-full of doodads, from china figurines and cut-glass vases to an ashtray that says, ‘Welcome to the Grand Canyon.’ Plus stuff in the kitchen cupboards and on top of every table—”
“I wonder if Priscilla would like to have a yard sale,” Lilah said thoughtfully, “and donate the proceeds to the center.” She laughed. “I’m not shy, am I?”
“If I organized it, it would be something nice I could do for her,” Allie said slowly.
“If it’s for the center, I’ll rally the troops. The whole family plus the center volunteers will help you and Priscilla price things. We can do it in no time flat.”
“Okay. I’ll ask her,” Allie said.
“I have a better idea. Your mother’s our chief fundraiser, and very, very persuasive.”
“As if I didn’t know,” Allie muttered.
“I’ll ask her to approach Priscilla.”
When the call ended, Allie sank into her chair, noticing proudly that the cloud of dust was much less dense as the result of her vacuuming. She was tired, but also sort of excited about her life. She’d read in bed last night, a book describing types of jobs in the psychology field, their educational requirements and their limitations. While Brian napped tomorrow, she’d read more of it.
Or, instead, would she find herself washing Brian’s clothes, straightening up his toys and making a grocery list of baby foods and supplies? Being the perfect nanny, the way she’d tried to be perfect at any job? She was getting too deeply into the nanny role. She had to focus on finding the perfect career.
“HI, MOM. Meet Brian,” Allie said when she and Brian arrived for lunch the next day.
Somehow, Allie wasn’t surprised to see her mother’s eyes soften. “Well, hello,” Elaine said to Brian. “Come right in. I have a present for you.” She practically snatched Brian out of his stroller.
Allie left it in the front hall, dumped her coat on top of it and joined them in the living room. Her mother was on the floor with Brian, who had his plump little arms wrapped around the biggest stuffed bear Allie had ever seen. He rolled over with it, then rolled over again, shrieking with joy.
“I think it’s a hit,” Allie said. “What shall we name it? Bearly There? Bearable?”
When her mother frowned, Allie stooped down to give her a hug. “Hello to you, too,” she said. “Thanks, Mom. He loves that bear, and I love you. Thank you again for doing the math. A detective couldn’t have done better.”
“Mike’s a good man. Somebody needs to look out for him.” Then her gaze whipped away from Allie and right back to Brian. “Papa Bear,” she cooed. “That’s what we’ll call him, won’t we, Brian.” She looked at Allie again, her eyes narrowed. “We’ll keep him right here at Aunt Elaine’s house for you to play with when you visit.”
Her message was clear. Allie had a substitute nanny on call and eager for the work. An hour later, she was finally forced to say, “Um, Mom, I think everyone’s getting hungry.”
“Oh!” Elaine said, leaping up. “I forgot all about lunch.”
Allie smiled. Her mother and Brian seemed to be getting along quite well.
MIKE WAS under even more pressure than before. And pressure to do what? Take his kid brother out somewhere next weekend. Just thinking about it exhausted him, packing the diaper bag, putting Brian in the car seat, folding the stroller into the trunk. His left hip, he thought, was permanently skewed in that direction, and Brian would have to get used to other forms of transportation.
“Lilah says you and Brian have a date this weekend,” Allie said when she arrived the next morning.
“Right,” Mike said. “Dinner and dancing.” He threw out his hands in supplication. “I don’t know where to take him,” he admitted. “Lilah said something about a farm where he could pet the animals, but I don’t feel secure about it. What if one of them bites him. You laugh,” he said, looking at Allie’s face, “but I might bite him the next time he grabs onto my ears and won’t let go.”
Suddenly she snapped her fingers. “You know, I have an idea. Ever been to Mayhew’s Farmer’s Market?”
He wrinkled his forehead. “I know about it, of course. But I buy from local folks, so I’ve never been there. It’s over the ridge, right?”
“Yes, near Grafton. It’s a wonderful place. They have fruits and vegetables, their own honey and maple syrup and they sell local crafts.”
How could she sound so bubbly
this early in the morning?
“The Mayhews grow everything themselves. The farm stand’s right in the middle of the fields and the apple orchard, so you can do your own picking if you want to. And,” she said, practically licking her lips at the prospect, “it’s pumpkin season.”
Mike had a brilliant idea of his own. “Go with us, then,” he said craftily. “I’ll never find it without you.”
She hesitated. “I think you need time alone with Brian.”
He gave her an aggrieved look. “He and I will be alone and lost, maybe never find our way home again. Think how bad you’ll feel.”
“I feel,” she said, “as if I’m being conned.”
“Did it work?”
She smiled. “Yep. Like magic. Okay, let’s do it. Saturday between two and five?”
“Thanks for asking,” he said, rubbing it in and feeling pretty good about his people skills. “I’d like that a lot.”
Allie narrowed her eyes. “I think I’ve figured out why the diner is such a success. It’s not the food, it’s you.”
ALLIE CLIMBED out of Mike’s station wagon and filled her lungs with the sweet, apple-scented fall air. Mayhew’s Farmer’s Market was exactly as she remembered it. The exterior was beaten and weathered from surviving so many tough Vermont winters, but inside, the lights shone brightly on towers of gleaming apples, fat squashes, all kinds of potatoes and mouthwatering mounds of heritage tomatoes.
The place was packed, inside and out. Behind the old store stood the greenhouses that kept Mayhew’s supplied with lettuces, spinach, green beans and other vegetables when they were out of season.
Behind the greenhouses were the apple orchards, and beside them, her favorite place, the pumpkin patch.
She glanced over her shoulder at Mike, who seemed to be getting out of the car pretty fast himself. One look at him and she knew he was hooked. His eyes had glazed over. Food. Fresh, good food. How could he not be interested?
“Don’t forget Brian,” she said pointedly.
“Oh, right, Brian,” he said, and hurriedly pulled out the stroller and settled the boy into the seat. “Okay, buddy,” he said enthusiastically. “Let’s go get us a pumpkin.”
The day was slightly overcast with a slight chill in the air, a perfect day for exploring the market. They went first to the tables in front, which groaned under the burden of brightly colored vegetables.
Brian was delighted. His hands reached for everything Allie held out for his inspection. She was glad she’d come with them, because Mike was transfixed by the display. “Those fingerling potatoes look good. I’ll get some for dinner. Boil them, then at the last minute, frizzle them in olive oil.” He picked up six baskets and dumped them into a paper bag.
“Don’t touch the purple potatoes.” The words came from a tall, rugged man with short white hair. Meriwether Mayhew had been a naval officer, and when he retired, he did an unlikely thing—started an organic farm, which he ran with the same authority he’d had as a military man. His wife, his sons and daughters and their kids all helped out, but “Mer” Mayhew was still the man in charge.
With a look of disgust, he began throwing the offending purple potatoes into a trash can. “Those potatoes are past their prime,” he said. “My daughter’s kids don’t know a potato from a Pokemon.” He sighed. “Guess they can’t all grow up to be farmers.”
He turned to look at Allie. “Well,” he said, the twinkle returning to his light-blue eyes. “I know this face.” He turned to Mike. “Allie’s been coming here since she was so young she kept tumbling over the pumpkins and falling into the vines.” He studied Mike for a moment. “You’re Mike Foster, right? I’ve been to your diner a few times. Tasty food, ay-uh, it is.”
Mer hunkered down so that he was at eye-level with Brian. “But this young man’s new to me.” He gave Allie a quizzical look. “Is he—”
“He’s Mike’s ward,” Allie said smoothly, “and I’m temporarily taking care of him.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed it,” Mer said, looking up at Mike. “He’s the spitting image of you.”
Mike’s smile faded. Allie’s heart sank, realizing he was quite aware of the resemblance—how could he not be—and perhaps also aware of the gossip. In spite of her mother’s certainty that Mike could not have fathered Brian, she would have to ask him pointblank, even if it made him mad enough to put her out of his life.
“I want Brian to see the pumpkin patch,” she said quickly. “You know how I always loved it.”
Mer solemnly shook Brian’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir. You folks have a good time, and you find anything as over-the-hill as those potatoes were, you bring ’em to me.”
“Interesting man,” Mike said. “He cares about quality.”
“So do you,” Allie said.
“This is a tomato, Brian,” Mike said, holding out a creased, lumpy heirloom variety for Brian’s inspection. “It’s the best kind, not pretty but it tastes better than—”
With one enthusiastic swing of his hand, Brian knocked the tomato to the rough plank floor.
Allie gasped and dived for it, holding it carefully as if it were an injured bird. It had split neatly at the base and fanned out over her hand, dripping juice and seeds. Mike gazed at it for a second or two, while the aroma of lushly ripe tomato filled the air. “Okay, we’ll buy that one,” he said to Brian. “Excellent choice.”
Allie dumped the tomato into a bag and dashed to the counter for paper towels. She’d pay for it first, then clean up the mess and toss it in the trash. When she got back, Mike was gently putting a large basket of the tomatoes into a bag. She began wiping tomato juice off the floor and looked up to see his eyes on her.
“You knew you could sucker me in, didn’t you?” His chin dimpled when he smiled. “I get carried away about food.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Okay, I deserve that. You know, I’d like to talk to Mayhew about supplying the diner. Do you mind if I…”
“Not at all.” She took the handles of the stroller from Mike. “You’ll probably find Mer in the office. Brian and I will do some craft shopping while you’re busy.”
She grabbed a paper bag from a stack nearby, and staying to the center of the aisle to keep Brian’s busy hands away from the merchandise, she selected a box of maple butternut fudge for her mother. Then she gravitated toward the display of handmade candles.
She picked up an evergreen-scented candle. Brian sniffed deeply, smiled, babbled and managed to get his hands around it. “Christmas,” she murmured to him. “You’re smelling Christmas.”
He was almost nine months old now. He’d been born to Mike’s friend and his wife at a time when a Christmas tree might still have been up in their house. A bell chimed in her head. Mike’s friend must have had a wife, because they’d had a baby.
She might have died in the accident, too. That is, if Mike actually had a friend who’d bequeathed Brian to him. He’d offered no details whatsoever about the funeral or any other aspect of his trip to Boston.
In spite of her mother’s defense of Mike, her worry increased.
“We’ll take this Christmas candle home,” she said, and popped it into the shopping bag.
Mike moved up behind her. She didn’t have to look. She could feel him there. She turned to see his face glowing with satisfaction. “You cut a deal with Mer?” she said.
He nodded and took back the handles of Brian’s stroller. “I’ll buy vegetables in season from the valley locals and he’ll take care of the rest. I was about to buy a couple of bushels of apples when he told me that Mildred’s been buying her apples from him all along. He strongly suggested that I not tell her I know she’s a traitor. We have perfectly good apples in the valley.”
“How right he is,” Allie said, having dealt with Mildred a couple of times in Mike’s absence.
“Mer said to leave our stuff on the counter and go for the pumpkin patch,” he said.
“Ummu dok uhnnl,” Brian said, wh
ich Allie interpreted as “and about time.”
The rows of pumpkins were as neat as pumpkin rows can be. The vines trailed everywhere, patches of green among the orange of the pumpkins.
“What do you think, Brian?” she said, letting Mike push the stroller down the wide dirt paths. “Aren’t they pretty?”
Brian burbled his approval.
She turned to Mike. “I remember looking for the perfect pumpkin, but the truth is that pumpkins aren’t perfect,” she said. “One day my parents got so impatient—they had other things to do—that my mom was about to lose it when Mer came out and explained that pumpkins have their own quirks that make them special.”
“Like people,” Mike said.
Something in his voice made her nervous. “This one, for example,” she rushed on. The pumpkin in question was bumpy and squashed. “She’s shorter, but wishes she were taller. She’s self-conscious, which you can tell by the way she’s let the vines grow over her.”
“You think maybe she looks at the vines as her protectors from rejection?”
The way he gazed at her made her nervous and happy at the same time. Allie cleared her suddenly tight throat and said, “She’s not afraid of rejection. She’s made up for what she lacks in height by being a wonderfully deep orange color.” She pulled the pumpkin off the vine. “I’m choosing this one.” Remembering their reason for being here, she added, “Brian, which pumpkin looks like you?”
She paused and gazed at Mike, and she knew she’d found the right moment to put her doubts to rest. “Mike,” she said slowly, “you’re not Brian’s father, are you?”
His eyes widened, but he didn’t flinch. “When would I have had time to father a child? And with whom? And if I had, I sure wouldn’t have forgotten to pick him up for eight months.”
She was so relieved she almost laughed. “That’s what my mother said,” she told him.
“Did you actually think I’m the kind of man who’d refuse to marry the mother of my child?” Now his expression was serious.
“No. I knew you weren’t. I believe in you, Mike, and trust you. If you were a pumpkin,” and she softened her voice, “you’d be everyone’s first choice.”
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