Divine's Emporium

by Michelle L. Levigne

  She couldn't even handle a daily newspaper delivery without making a mess. The garden she was putting in, aided by books from the library, would probably die by the end of next week. There was no way she could keep a baby. Even though he certainly was adorable. And soft. And warm. And grinned at her as if he actually liked her.

  The lack of traffic at nearly eleven in the morning comforted and cheered Jeri as she strolled toward downtown Neighborlee. This was exactly why she had moved here. She had feared a town named Neighborlee would be anything but, yet the pictures the realtor had sent her and her Web searches revealed an idyllic town where Century houses and slate sidewalks met a nice chunk of the Metroparks, and the trees were tall and old and drooped over the streets.

  Most of the commerce centered in downtown, with old-fashioned storefronts and apartments over stores, plenty of offices, and buildings with bay windows and recessed doorways. Jeri had fallen in love with the town even before she'd made her escape flight from the other side of the country. No one in her old life would ever expect her to come here. They always assumed that if they didn't like something, she wouldn't like it, either. If they were bored, she would be bored.

  They were wrong, as usual. Maybe, in another six months, she would have grown the courage and backbone to actually tell them they were wrong. Of course, she would send that message in a letter sent through a very indirect route, so they couldn't trace it back to her.

  No matter how long she had been established in her new home, with new friends and her new identity, if anyone in her old life found out where she was, they would come drag her back to the Hell of high fashion and high society, where money and time were wasted at the speed of sound. It wasn't as if any of those people actually liked her. They liked her money and family connections and anything they could wring out of her.

  If hiding here in Neighborlee, Ohio didn't work, she would run to the ends of the Earth. How about Australia? How about a convent? Not that she wanted to live by anyone else's rules but her own, ever again. That was something she intended to avoid with every speck of energy left in her. That was why she had come to Neighborlee, after all.

  She turned down the street that should have held the government complex, a low sprawl of sandstone buildings housing City Hall and the combination fire and police stations. Instead, she saw a big olive and gold Victorian house, some empty lots, and a dead end. Yes, the dead end gave way to a gorgeous view of the slope down into the Metroparks, but it wasn't what she wanted. How was she going to turn Junior over to the proper authorities if she couldn't find them?

  Sighing, she shifted the basket to her other hand. Her shoulder ached from the weight. At least Junior was asleep, lulled by the warm summer day and the swaying of the basket as she trudged down the slate sidewalk. Jeri turned around and tried to get her bearings to guess her way to City Hall.

  Three turns later, she ended up at that same dead end street. That made no sense, because she'd turned left, then right, then left again. Not left, left, left. What was going on here?

  "Hey, you okay?"

  That voice was deep, rumbling and male, and didn't sound familiar. That made it a beautiful sound. Jeri didn't tense and clench her hands into claws, ready to dig her false nails into any male hand that tried to touch where he wasn't invited. Besides, she didn't have her false nails anymore.

  "No, not really," she admitted, and forced a cheerful, false smile onto her sweaty face.

  She looked up. And up. Into chocolate brown eyes not quite shadowed by oak brown hair streaked with gold by the sun. The owner of those eyes had a wide, cheerful face, fringed by maybe three days' growth of beard. He had a streak of blue paint across one cheekbone, smears of gold paint in his hair, and a fingerprint in white paint on the bridge of his nose. He wore overalls, sans shirt. Both the clothes and his bare arms were spattered with more paint.

  The big crate resting against a truly buff, tanned chest, held a dozen old-fashioned toys, all made of wood. A tractor, a tiny rocking horse perfect for a Barbie doll, and a jointed clown on a stick that would dance with the right manipulation. Jeri thought of Junior laughing at those toys, especially the clown.

  "You like?" Mr. Chocolate Eyes grinned, revealing perfect teeth, except for a crooked right incisor. Somehow, that made him totally human and safe. Unlike some people who were so physically perfect their brains rotted in revolt.

  "They're great--Um, could you tell me where I am?"

  "About twenty feet away from Divine's Emporium. Lost?"

  "Unfortunately. Could you tell me how to get to City Hall?"

  "I can take you there. After I make my delivery." He hefted the crate of toys to demonstrate. "Why don't you come on inside, get something cold to drink, put down that baby basket for a little while? I'll show you the way after Angela and I get everything squared away."

  Something cold to drink sounded wonderful. Both of her arms ached like they wanted to come off at the shoulders. The warmth in his eyes and the thought of getting out of the sun convinced her to do what she had sworn not to--talk to strangers and trust their advice.

  "What does Divine's Emporium sell?" she said as she followed him through the wrought iron gate in front of the Victorian house.

  "Anything and everything. Seems like, whatever you need, it's there. And even things you didn't realize you needed, they just show up." He laughed and paused to brace the crate between the wall and his hip as he reached to pull the door open. He gestured for Jeri to go ahead of him.

  She felt her face warm at the courtesy, and tiptoed through the doorway. Bells above the door chimed in whispers and were echoed by wind chimes hanging from the ceiling all through the store. A soft sigh escaped her as she walked across the wooden floor and stared in delight at the crowded, old-fashioned display shelves on either side. This was the kind of place she had always dreamed of visiting, of playing in, maybe even owning someday.

  Old-fashioned apothecary jars full of a rainbow assortment of candy sat in a long line on a marble counter. Rag dolls. Teacups. Kitschy knickknacks. Souvenirs and cold remedies. Junk and collectibles. Candles lined one wall and filled the store with fragrance. Signs hanging from the ceiling pointed to other rooms where everything could be found, from vintage clothes to board games, computer software to recipe books, secondhand books, suntan oil, tea and coffee.

  Everywhere Jeri turned, she saw something new.

  "Jon-Tom." The words, spoken in a sweet, low voice came from seemingly out of nowhere. "You're right on time."

  Jeri turned. She could have sworn that the woman had materialized from the empty space and shadows behind the main counter. She had long, wavy blonde hair in a dozen shades, flame-blue eyes, and a long, smiling face.

  "You must be the new girl in town." The woman turned her warm smile on Jeri next.

  The habitual icy stiffness that came on encountering strangers defrosted and spilled down Jeri's spine. Or was that just the sweat she had generated, turning chill in the shade?

  "I figured she needed to meet you," Jon-Tom said. "This is Angela." He sidestepped the basket still hanging from Jeri's hands, took his crate of toys to the counter, and put it down with a soft thud. "Whew! It's hot out there."

  "I bet you both could use a cold drink." Angela beckoned.

  Jeri looked where Angela gestured. She could have sworn the fragile-looking, white wrought iron soda fountain tables and chairs hadn't been there two minutes ago. Come to think of it, that corner of the store hadn't been there, the first time she looked.

  Jeri mentally kicked herself. Maybe she had knocked her head when she tripped over Junior's basket, or she was having heatstroke. It wasn't like her to miss things, or to thoughtlessly do what strangers told her to. Somehow, though, she found herself setting the basket on the closest table and sitting next to it.

  "He's adorable. Is he yours?" Angela bent over the basket. She didn't pick up the sleeping baby, which eased the jolt of possessiveness and concern that shot through Jeri.

  "Tempo
rarily," Jeri said. She wiped her sweaty hand on her thigh and held it out. "Hi, I'm Jeri Hollis."

  "You're kidding," Jon-Tom said, with a snort of laughter.

  "Nope." The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. She had thought long and hard about the new name she wanted to wear for the rest of her life, and she liked the name enough to fight for it.

  "My best buddy's name is Jerry Hollis."

  "He is? Do you know where he is? Because this is his kid."

  Jon-Tom gave her a look that clearly said he thought she was crazy. Jeri wished she could roll back the last few minutes like a videotape and start over.

  Angela, on the other hand, just stepped back and looked her over. "How do you know this is his baby?"

  Over iced coffee loaded with vanilla syrup and mounds of whipped cream, Jeri spilled the whole story. She hadn't meant to tell anyone her business. Something about the understanding and humor in Angela's expression yanked out the plug she had mentally inserted in her vocal chords over the years. Once she got started, and that first taste of vanilla coffee and cream had slid down her throat, she couldn't stop until she reached the end of the story.

  Jon-Tom had put the toys away in another room and done some paperwork at the counter while she talked. Now he came to take the other chair. He grinned and looked down into the basket. "Sure is a cute little guy. I can't imagine Jerry ever abandoning his kid, if he knew he even had a kid."

  "Maybe that's the problem," Jeri conceded. "He didn't know, and the mother thinks he should know, and now she's mad." She stroked a finger down the baby's soft, plump leg. "She sure didn't leave much with him."

  "Jon-Tom, does this baby look like Jerry?" Angela said.

  "Give him a butch cut and put him in uniform... Well, he needs a constant five o'clock shadow, but yeah. I've known him since sand box days." He nodded once, decisively. "I think this is Jerry's kid."

  "Where can I find him?" Jeri felt a little breathless at having her problem solved so quickly. She wouldn't have to go anywhere near the authorities.

  "Got a plane ticket to Germany? Jerry's a Marine, on guard duty at the embassy. Won't get back for another year, I think. He left about ten months ago."

  "Ouch," Jeri whispered. "So I guess the best thing to do is take Junior to the police and let the authorities take over."

  "If you put that kid in an orphanage, Jerry'll never be able to find him when he gets back," Jon-Tom snapped.

  "What do you expect me to do? Take him home and babysit for a year?"

  "Children." Angela flattened her lips, but a smile glinted in her eyes. She rested one hand on the shoulder of each. "Why don't we sit back and relax and take it slowly for a minute? All right? You know Jeri will be in a great deal of trouble with the authorities if she keeps that baby without the proper people knowing. What if it's some horrid trick somebody played on the mother, dumping that baby on her doorstep this morning? She could be frantic, tearing her hair out, trying to find her baby."

  Jon-Tom glowered for a few moments, then nodded. The storm clouds left his eyes, and Jeri was strangely glad. She didn't like the thought of him being angry with her, even if it was for a good reason.

  Wait a minute. Where had that thought come from? She didn't care what anybody thought of her. She just wanted to be left alone to live her own life and make her own decisions. To watch the movies she wanted to watch and wear the clothes she wanted to wear, without having to dodge paparazzi and dynastic marriage plans while relatives who wanted to control her mind and her money shoved fashion and culture down her throat.

  "Now," Angela said, when they'd managed half-hearted smiles for each other and had agreed to the truce. "The first thing we need to do is outfit this baby of ours."

  "Ours?" Despite herself, Jeri smiled. The weight that had settled on her shoulders when she picked up that basket full of baby lightened considerably. Ours implied that others would help her and share the responsibility for the surprise left on her doorstep. "What do you mean, outfit?"

  "Clothes, diapers." Jon-Tom grinned, nearly flattening her with the full wattage of his smile. "Lots of diapers. And powder and ointment and wipes and--"

  "Toys," Angela said. "Something to sleep in besides that basket. You're new in town. You took the Harris place, right?"

  "Right." Jeri nodded, though she was only vaguely sure the previous owners had been named Harris. Her former college roommate, one of the few people she trusted, simply because Rita hated the "Establishment" so badly, had found the house for her. A computer genius who published an underground newspaper was the best kind of friend to have, if someone could only have one trustworthy friend.

  "So, I bet you haven't any place to put a baby, even if you only agreed to take him overnight." Angela stood up and looked around her shop. "You two stay right here while I go hunting. We don't need baby clothes very often, but I know they're here." She strode out of the room. Jeri heard a creak that sounded like someone climbing old wooden stairs, then more creaks crossing the ceiling right over her head.

  "Whatever you need, you can find at Divine's," Jon-Tom said. He rested his elbows on the table and hunkered over. "So, how new to town are you?"

  "Week or so." Jeri glanced at the baby to avoid looking into his eyes. "What makes you think your friend Jerry didn't abandon his girlfriend and kid?"

  Somewhere during a recital of Jerry's heroism when they were in junior high, pulling two children out of the river in the park during a flood, the heat and long walk and stress of the morning finally got to her. Jeri felt like someone had attached weights to her eyelashes. She bowed her head, resting it on her palm. Vaguely, as the dimness took over, she heard Jon-Tom chuckle, felt his hand guiding her head down, crossing her arms to form a pillow on the table. He had nice hands, big and warm, calloused but not rough. Gentle.

  She dreamed about the baby. He leaped out of his basket and landed on her lap. He hugged her and giggled and called her Mommy. Something turned hot and fierce inside her, where Jeri had always imagined herself to be empty, cold and dusty.

  The baby took her hand and they ran through the shop, playing with toys. They found all sorts of treats she never had as a little girl because she was always on display, always expected to be ready to recite poems for her aunt's guests and sit quietly in the corner the rest of the time.

  Jeri dreamed the baby taught her to dance and sing silly songs. They had a tea party with Angela and a handsome little man with enormous, glittery wings. Every time the baby hugged her and called her Mommy, Jeri wanted to laugh and cry.

  * * * *

  Jon-Tom trusted Angela. She had always been there, just like Divine's had always been there. With three orders to finish and four customers coming throughout the day to pick up furniture and other items they had ordered, he had to get back to his shop. He had worked hard to build up a good reputation, and couldn't let one black mark threaten it now. Not even for his best friend.

  That didn't mean he couldn't pull every string, follow every lead to track down Jerry and let him know what had happened. By four-thirty that afternoon, the frustration burning a hole in his stomach came from hours of phone calls in the gaps between customers. He'd often tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, waiting to talk to a human being, while he sanded or painted or worked on sketches for new designs. The comforting smells of sawdust and linseed oil didn't work their magic. All he got for his efforts was a gigantic phone bill and four messages left for Jerry at his quarters, two with his superiors, and one with the chaplain.

  His heart was in his throat as he walked up the slate walk to Divine's door, because he feared Jeri wasn't there. His fear that the baby would land in the hands of the authorities was a very close second to not seeing Jeri there. And that just didn't make sense.

  There was nothing particularly unique or compelling about Jeri. Fashionably ragged-cut hair made her look like a lost kid on an adventure. She had big, muddy green eyes framed in gold lashes so pale they were almost invisible. Not skinny, not plump,
she had a few extra curves in her bottom and hips, but he liked a girl who felt soft inside the curve of his arm. He didn't like girls who looked like a stick or a piece of dandelion fuzz that would blow away at the first stiff breeze.

  Jon-Tom stopped short with that thought echoing in his head. Since when did it matter how Jeri might fit into his arms? He was too busy for relationships. Especially with a girl who didn't know a thing about kids and obviously didn't want one.

  With a growl rumbling silently in his chest, he shoved the front door open and strode into Divine's. He hurried down the aisles to the table where he had left Jeri and Jerry's baby.

  The basket was gone. Jon-Tom's heart plummeted and his stomach tied into a knot.

  Jeri was still there, however, in the same position where he had left her. He tripped over a non-existent seam in the wooden floor--she wasn't dead, was she?

  Angela hadn't drugged her to make her stay, had she?

  No, Angela wouldn't do anything sneaky like that. Weird things happened in Divine's, but nothing illegal.

  He knew he grinned like an idiot. Just standing and looking at Jeri was rude, but he didn't care. Seeing her still here sort of paid for the rotten day he had.

  But the baby was still missing. He reached out to shake Jeri, tempted to push her to the floor. How could she just sit there and not know someone had taken the baby away?

  "Don't panic," he muttered. "Nothing bad ever happens at Divine's."

  "There you are," Angela said. She came through the doorway from the back room, all smiles, carrying the baby basket in one hand and a bulging, oversized shopping bag in the other. "Did you get everything done?"

  "Yeah." He let out a long breath, and hoped his face wasn't as hot as it felt. "How's the kid?"

  "Jerry Junior is just fine. We had a long talk, and then we had a long nap. He ate all his lunch and loved every bit of it. Didn't you, sweetheart?"

  Angela had an admirable talent for being able to croon to a baby without sounding like her IQ had dropped by half. The baby gurgled at her, kicked his pudgy little legs, and waved a glistening, drooly fist.