April watched the two parents glaring at each other and thought they needed to learn how to chill. No wonder the baby was crying. “Can I have a turn?” she asked.
Liam aimed his furious gaze at her. Merry kicked her tiny legs.
“To give you a break,” April continued, reaching out to rescue her niece from her brother. Poor thing. She knew what it felt like to have him on your case. “Go get a beer. Maybe a prescription sedative.”
“You just want to show off,” Liam said.
April smiled, flattered he’d noticed how she had a magic touch with the little squirt. “All right with you, Bev?”
When Bev bit her lip and nodded, April lifted Merry into the crook of her elbow. And then, plowing ahead with her theory that her niece was screaming because her dad was an uptight head case, she waved away the bottle and carried the baby out the front door. Stool, who’d come over with her from her mother’s house with the Chihuahuas, followed her onto the landing. Ever since the morning she’d moved back home, he’d stuck to her like glue. Fear of abandonment could strike the hardiest of souls.
Perhaps it was the shock of cold wind blasting through the Golden Gate across the bay and into her little face, or perhaps it was the distance from her neurotic parents, but little Merry stopped crying.
“Oh,” Meredith Bailey Johnson said. Actually, it was more like a gasp, but April decided it was her first word and smiled, rubbing the baby’s soft, wet cheek against her own.
“Cold, isn’t it?” April pivoted in her boots until they were aiming west. “The wind blows off the Pacific. That’s San Francisco over there.”
“Oh,” Merry said again. “Oh, oh, oh.”
April leaned back and looked into her face. “Are you cold?”
Merry gaped at her with her wide blue eyes as if she’d been drunk all night and just noticed she was in bed with somebody unfamiliar.
April totally knew that look.
“Wuh,” Merry said. Her face was pimpled and splotchy.
“You don’t look so good,” April said. She flinched, realizing she’d insulted her only niece. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t say shit like that.”
The fight had drained out of Merry. She continued to gaze at April, but under flickering eyelids.
“I shouldn’t swear, either,” April whispered, glancing at the house. “Our little secret, okay?”
She had lots of those these days. Sneaking into Fite early every day was taking its toll on her cheerful disposition. She missed the sleep, hated lying to her mother about her fictional new obsession with sunrise jogging, and knew that any one of these days very soon, Liam was going to find out.
Silence. Merry was asleep.
“You seem smaller when you shut up.” April kissed her on the forehead, right on the spots. “Good reason to keep making noise. Don’t want people walking all over you.”
Another gust of wind hit them, so April opened the door and stepped inside. Liam jumped up and strode over, reaching for the baby. He didn’t say anything, but April could see his jaw clenching as he took Merry from her arms.
“She’s asleep,” April said.
“Probably went into shock,” Liam said, tucking her under his unzipped sweatshirt against his chest. “It’s November, not July. You’ve got to be careful with newborns.”
Buried up to her chin under her dad’s sweatshirt, Merry opened her eyes. Outraged by the relocation, she opened her mouth and sucked in a deep breath to resume howling.
“Oh, no,” Liam muttered during the brief silence.
April grinned. “Thar she blows.”
Merry’s crying drowned out whatever Bev said as she came over and handed Liam the bottle. Poor Bev. She looked like she hadn’t slept in a week, and crusty white streaks marked each of her shoulders.
April held out her arms. “Let me take her outside again. She likes it.”
“Isn’t it too cold?” Bev asked.
“I’ll wander around inside, then,” April said, clasping her finger’s around Merry’s little chest under Liam’s sweatshirt.
“No—” he began, but Merry had stopped crying as soon as April touched her.
April lifted her all the way out, cradling her fuzzy head with one hand, and felt her own heart swell. Big blue eyes gazed into hers. She’d loved Merry before she was born, but the compliment her niece paid her by not crying whenever she held her was especially charming. What a fantastic kid. The best in the world.
“Let’s bail this popsicle stand, kiddo,” April whispered, walking away. Stool, as usual, padded at her side.
Liam stood and grabbed her arm. “Hold it. I think there might be something wrong.” He leaned over and touched Merry’s cheek. “She’s all hot.”
“She’s been crying,” April said. “And you had her in your sweatshirt.”
“She needs to eat, that’s all,” Trixie said, shoving the bottle into Merry’s newly closed mouth.
April pulled away from both of them. “Stop. She doesn’t need anything. She’s fine. Totally fine.”
“She’s right,” Bev said. “Let April hold her. I just can’t listen to her cry anymore.”
“But we can’t rely on her every time—” Liam began.
“I don’t care about every time,” Bev said. “This is right now. As in, right now I’m taking a shower. I’ve got dried spit-up in my hair.” She got up, came over to kiss Merry on the forehead, and gave April a sad but grateful look before leaving the room.
April wandered around the house until Merry was deeply asleep. Then she tucked the limp little body into her car seat, set it next to the washing machine off the kitchen, and rejoined the others around the breakfast table. Bev, with damp hair and rosy cheeks, sat close to Liam. They held hands, looking happier than they had in months. Trixie was sipping her tea, smiling at them, then at April as she sat down.
“Mom was just telling us you used to babysit all the time during high school,” Liam said. “I didn’t know.”
“She was in very high demand,” Trixie said. “With a wait-list and everything. I felt like her agent, fielding the parent phone calls that would come in.”
April felt herself flush with pride. Back then, she’d loved being with babies. For a few years, she’d retreated from her own social life to babysit. Babies never asked stupid questions like How’s your mother doing? (meaning: now that your father is dead); or Are you as smart as your brother Mark? (meaning: obviously not); or Is Liam going to come home and show everyone his gold medal? (meaning: I hope he’ll have sex with me.)
“I made pretty good money,” April said, taking the mug of herbal tea her mother poured for her. “Used to joke about becoming a nanny if art school didn’t work out.”
The table fell silent.
“Nanny?” Liam asked.
They were all staring at her.
The tea caught in April’s mouth. “Joke. I was joking.”
After a moment, Liam said, “So, you said you were sick of temping…”
Chapter 3
APRIL SHOOK HER HEAD. “I’M happy to help out with Merry, no charge.”
“Great,” Liam said. “When can you start?”
“No, we couldn’t,” Bev said at the same time. “We’ll find a nanny. Just because we haven’t found one yet doesn’t mean we won’t.”
“We need help now,” Liam said. “You’re trying to keep up with business at Fite and the baby and it’s killing you. You can’t do it all.”
The new parents looked at each other. Then Bev turned to April. “We wouldn’t take advantage. We’d pay you—”
“No. I don’t want money to be with my own niece,” April said. The warm glow of baby infatuation was still thick in her heart. She couldn’t possibly turn that into a commercial transaction. “No,” she repeated, pulling the mug up to her face.
“I’m sorry,” Bev said. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“She’s being irrational,” Liam said. “April, look. You’ve got a skill. We require th
at skill. We’d be compensating you for being here with her instead of being at a paid job. Which, by the way, you don’t have. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise. Just because you’re related—”
“I don’t care about the money,” April said, struggling to keep her voice down because of Merry in the other room. She went over to the sink and washed out her mug, even though she wasn’t finished, just to have something to do with her hands.
“Fine,” Liam said. “Do it for free, then.”
“I will,” April said. When she wasn’t at Fite. Except he didn’t know she was at Fite, because she was really just a loser who’d gone to high school with the receptionist.
“No.” Bev stood up and walked over to look at the baby through the doorway. Her voice was soft but firm. “Even if it’s okay with you, it wouldn’t be okay with me. I can’t go back to work feeling guilty about that, too.”
Liam sighed. April felt flattered and disappointed at the same time. She wanted to be with Merry, but it was nice of Bev to try to protect her—even if, like Liam, Bev thought she knew better than April herself.
“There’s a beautiful solution staring us in the face,” Trixie said. She widened her smile when they all looked at her. “Surely you can see it, Liam. And you, Bev. You’re such a genius about the people side of business.”
Bev smiled but shook her head. “Help me out. I’m not running on all cylinders at the moment. I walked around with my breast hanging out all afternoon. Thank God nobody noticed.”
“Oh, I noticed—” Liam began, his grin disappearing as Bev’s open palm smacked him above the ear.
“It’s a simple solution.” Trixie stood up and carried the remaining mugs to the sink, humming under her breath. “Oh, April. We’re going to have so much fun. Until you have your own baby, of course. Then it’s not exactly fun, but I’ll do my best to help you. And Bev, if she isn’t busy with her second, if she has another”—she turned and gestured at Bev—“and I’m not pressuring you, because there’s nothing worse than people bothering you about your reproductive choices, but if you did have another as the same time as April, and wouldn’t that be wonderful—”
April grabbed her arm. “Whoh, Mom. Not pregnant. Not likely, either, because I’m not having sex again for a very long time, possibly ever.”
Liam put his hands over his ears. “I don’t want to know.”
Her mother sighed. “And I do, but she won’t tell me. Isn’t that just the way the world works?” She squeezed April’s shoulder. “Anyway, don’t you think it’s a great idea?”
“What? You haven’t told us,” April said.
“I’m sure Liam has put it all together, haven’t you, honey?” Trixie asked. Their mother had an annoying habit of knowing everything and nothing at the same time. The problem was, you never knew which one it was.
“Mom,” Liam replied, “when you act like this, I worry about what you’re going to be like when you’re old.”
“And a backhanded compliment to boot!” Trixie patted her short hair. “Sixty is the new forty, you know.”
Yawning loudly, Liam got to his feet and joined Bev in the doorway. April peeked between their bodies at the soft little pajama-clad feet sticking out from under the blanket in the car seat carrier.
Would it really be so bad? “I was planning on taking a break from temping anyway,” April said quietly. What she meant was, she couldn’t keep sneaking into Fite.
“Like I said, it’s perfect,” Trixie said. “You and Liam and Bev can take turns watching Merry and working at Fite, depending on what hours Liam can arrange for you, though of course he’ll have to consult people.”
“Mother,” Liam said in a low voice. “Explain. Please. I’m too tired to translate right now.”
“All that talent won’t be going to waste anymore,” Trixie said. “Artists aren’t nearly as common as people think.”
Bev’s eyes widened. “Oh, I get it.” She smiled at April. “That’s a great idea!”
Trixie just smiled, eyes twinkling. “First Liam has to agree to the plan.”
He groaned. “I don’t even—”
“He agrees,” Bev said, putting an arm around him and sinking against his side with a yawn. “Don’t you, honey?”
“Ouch!” he cried. “Did you just pinch me?”
“Sorry. Your mom has a great idea,” Bev said. “Say you agree.”
“This is like a bad dream. Nothing makes any sense.” He rubbed his face with his free hand. “If I say I agree, will you both leave so we can get some sleep?”
“Yes,” Trixie said. “Fantastic. April, let’s go. Tomorrow morning you can figure out the details—when you’re here with the baby, when you’re at Fite. And you get paid for both, because it’s the only way that everyone will be happy.”
“When who’s at Fite?” Liam asked. Then scowled. “No. I can’t have any more family on the books, I told you—”
“Nothing could be more perfect than having your talented, underemployed, hungry—as in eager, driven, capable—sister under the Fite umbrella,” Trixie said. “Don’t you think so, Bev? It is your company.”
“What do you think?” Bev asked April. “We’d be taking advantage of you from both sides, work and home. Baby and business.”
A theoretical day blossomed in April’s imagination: half at home with Merry, half in San Francisco pursing a real art career.
“As owner,” Bev continued, “I declare it a fantastic idea. And I’m sure Liam agrees with me.”
“She’d be our nanny and work at Fite?” Liam asked.
“Yes,” Bev said, kissing him on the cheek. “Maybe you’ll finally get some sleep so you can follow a simple conversation again.” She turned to April. “We’ll have to get a permanent nanny when Merry’s older, but we haven’t found anyone we like enough yet. Will you help us in the meantime? Are you even interested?”
April sank into a chair. “Oh,” she whispered, just like Merry had. “Oh, oh, oh.”
* * *
“Incredible,” Rita, the manager of Fite Fitness’s graphics department, said. “You’ve done this before, right?”
April looked down at the printout of the variegated stripe design in black and neon-orange she held out. Just last week, actually. “I’ve had a little exposure here and there to software like this. But I have a lot to learn.”
“That’s all right. I don’t know why Liam didn’t ask you to work for us earlier. I’ve been complaining about the freelancers all year.” Rita tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, exposing large silver hoops and a tiny butterfly tattoo on her neck.
April smiled. “Baby on the brain.”
Rita peered at the design. “Or he’s just being an asshole again.” Her gaze shot up to April, and her pale face lost what little color it had naturally. “Please forget I said that. I have a foul mouth. I love your brother.”
“I love him, too,” April said, “even though he is, quite often, a total flaming doofus.”
Rita smiled and cringed at the same time. After an awkward pause, she took the printout and pointed at the stripe in the middle. “Can you vary the width on these a little bit? I can show you how if—”
“How much?” April asked.
“Well, I’m just guessing what the designer is going to say, but… maybe reduce to a half inch.”
“No problem.” April had been relieved her first project was just a stripe design for a T-shirt. Stripes were incredibly easy. She’d been trying to figure out how to do all-over designs the week before, until she’d realized the software for complex textile designs must be on a workstation she hadn’t hacked into yet. The first one had been easy because some freelancer had left a sticky note with his name and password next to the phone. No such luck with the other computer.
The moral question of recruiting her other brother, Mark the computer genius, to help her hack into it had kept her up at night. When she’d decided he wouldn’t do it anyway, she’d started using the Internet to research common offi
ce security gaps—common passwords, human habits (like writing down their secrets on yellow paper next to the keyboard), administrative overrides. Years of being an interloper at somebody else’s desk through temping had taught her a lot of those tricks already. Many Monday mornings, she’d waited hours until somebody with time or a brain could help her log on to the company’s network. Boredom, even when paid by the hour, got old pretty fast.
Today, however, she could sit down at her own desk—well, she wouldn’t have to share it unless the workload got so busy they had to hire another freelancer—and type in her own name and password. No corporate crimes necessary.
Knowing it was terribly obvious, she’d chosen Merryis#1 as her password. Smiling to herself, she typed it in, thinking she was probably the third person in the company to do so.
“Rita?”
April turned around to see a young woman with long brown hair in a tight black dress hurry past, waving a sheet of paper.
“Hi, Teegan,” Rita said, rising to meet her.
“I’m really sorry, but Jennifer says this is totally, totally terrible,” Teegan said.
April suppressed a retort. Terrible? Like, dying from famine terrible? She peeked over her shoulder. She knew that holding her temper with some of these melodramatic chicks was going to be a challenge.
“Something not working?” Rita asked.
Teegan waved the paper. “Look at the colors.”
The words FITE FITNESS filled the page in a rainbow of color. “Yes?” Rita asked politely.
“It’s a rainbow,” Teegan said.
“The request sheet asked for multiple colors,” Rita said.
“But not those colors.”
“The request sheet didn’t specify.”
Teegan made a face. “Jennifer said she told you.”
“What colors would you like?” Rita asked.
“The ones in the New York line. The palette is on the boards in the conference room.”
“Which conference room?” Rita asked.
“The one off the lobby.”
“When do you need it?”
Not Quite Perfect (Oakland Hills Book 3) Page 3