Bringing Up Baby New Year & Frisky Business

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Didn’t mention it?” He gave her a piercing look, then studied the baby. “No, he didn’t.” The baby. Maybe there really had been a baby in the background, and not jungle drums. Maybe he’d been totally, completely had.

  She looked deeply distressed, as well she should be. Her freckles stood out against the paleness of her cheeks like cinnamon sprinkled over a vat of cream. “So, when the washer overflowed and…soaked Santa and the elves, Mr. DeWitt’s yard decorations were ruined. They were made of cardboard.”

  He finally got it. No orgy. No barbecued Rudolph. An overflowing washer had soaked some cardboard Christmas decorations. For that he’d driven two miles of cop-infested streets like a madman, thinking his future was about to go down the drain in a deluge of lawsuits.

  He drilled the French Maid with a look that should have burned a hole right through her. Some French Maid. Instead of tall, willowy and exotic, she was short, curvy and wholesome. He could forgive the short and curvy part, but for her to be disgustingly wholesome was a cruel blow. And to top it all off, she had a baby!

  He cringed as he thought of the notes he’d written to her, the daydreams he’d concocted, the fantasies he’d indulged in, all encouraged by her sexy paper, her flowers, her chocolate, dammit. How dare she toy with him like that?

  Her voice faltered. “You…look a bit like a thunder-cloud.”

  He realized he needed to cool it, or the Elderhomes would soon know what a fool he’d made of himself.

  He forced a smile as he gazed at her. “Really? Pardonnez-moi.” He paused for emphasis. “Darcie.”

  To his satisfaction, she turned very pink and seemed to be at a loss for words.

  But the little guy she was carrying wasn’t. He waved his arms and grinned at Joe. “Da-da!” he cried.

  Darcie might have felt more humiliated at some time in her life, but if so, she couldn’t recall it. As her da would have said, Joe looked as if he’d discovered rabbit droppings in his bowl of porridge.

  To make matters worse, he was all she’d dreamed of and more in the looks department. His Home World T-shirt and jeans and battered truck confused her a little, considering the initialed stationery he used, but maybe he liked to fit in with his employees and enjoyed restoring old trucks.

  The jeans and T-shirt went a long way toward showing him off to good advantage, though. And to top off the picture, he had a square jaw with the faintest dimple and dark wavy hair that she longed to bury her fingers in. She couldn’t see the color of his eyes because of his aviator sunglasses, but maybe that was a good thing. From the frown wedged between his eyebrows, she didn’t think she’d want to see his eyes.

  Madge Elderhorn seemed not to mind Joe’s frown. “It would appear, Mr. Northwood, that you’ll need to come up with an alternate decoration,” she said.

  “I will help him,” Darcie said.

  “Color me surprised,” Madge said.

  Ignoring Madge, Darcie hoisted Gus more firmly onto her hip. “It’s the least I can do.”

  Joe glanced at her. “The very least.”

  “Uh-huh,” Madge said.

  “But listen, I have an idea,” Joe continued. “How about recycling what I have and calling it A Christmas Nightmare? We’ll use the whacked-out Santa and his elves after all. Then I can round up some old tires, spray ’em green so they look sort of like rubber wreaths, and I’m sure somebody has a dead pine tree I could borrow. A few broken toys, a rusty sleigh—”

  “Ha-ha!” The laughter coming out of Herman Elderhorn seemed to astonish everyone, including Herman.

  Gus, always happy to join in when there was laughter going on, added his little baby giggle. ’Twould be grand to get a pint or two in that one and watch the show.

  Madge glared at her husband. “Herman?”

  “I thought it was funny, honey lamb.”

  Madge gave him a dark look before turning back toward Joe. “Well, I fail to see the humor in it, Mr. Northwood.”

  “I wasn’t being funny,” Joe said.

  Joe’s voice had the strangest effect on Gus, who turned his little head immediately toward Joe and took on Joe’s serious expression. Faith, we can’t have you looking dark and mysterious. Don’t know why she fancies that, but she does.

  Darcie had never seen her son identify so quickly with anyone. She wondered if it was a Sign.

  In any case, she decided that she’d be wise to support Joe’s idea and try to get back in his good graces. Besides, she enjoyed the idea of tweaking the noses of the stuffy Tannenbaum residents. “What a creative plan!” she said.

  Madge’s chin went up at least an inch. “It’s a terrible idea, and we can’t have it, especially in this cul-de-sac, which is known for its outstanding displays. After all, people pay five dollars apiece to tour the community, and—”

  “Five bucks?” Joe gaped at her.

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Darcie muttered. The tollbooths hadn’t ever been up when she came through in the daytime to clean.

  “I think it’s a little steep myself,” Herman ventured. “I think maybe three for adults, two for children, and maybe four dollars for a family with children, and of course you shouldn’t charge for a baby who’s not even walking, and if some old lady has to be pushed in a wheelchair, then—”

  “Herman!” Madge quelled him with a look.

  Joe shook his head in wonder. “You really find people willing to pay that much to see yard decorations?”

  Darcie couldn’t believe it, either. She’d never shell out good money to wander around staring at other people’s lights and decorations, but then she didn’t have any spare cash for such goings-on in the first place.

  “You don’t understand,” Madge said. “These aren’t a few colored bulbs strung along the eaves. These are scenes that move, lights that blink, steam that billows, even authentic noises.”

  “All except the belching snowman last year, lotus blossom. The Landernoths finally admitted that was not a real belch, but a taped sound of pulling a plunger out of a toilet. That’s why they were disqualified, you remember.”

  “I’d sure demand a real belch for my five bucks,” Joe said. “So, what do you do with all that cash?”

  “We donate it to the homeless,” Madge said, “except for five thousand we give as the grand prize.”

  Darcie gasped. “You give the winner five thousand dollars?” Tuition, new tires, a sandbox. And money left over.

  Joe cleared his throat. “Well, now, that puts a whole new slant on things. Suppose I put together a display that won the grand prize? Would it belong to me or DeWitt?”

  “You wouldn’t win,” Madge said.

  “By St. Paddy’s beard, he most certainly might!” Darcie blurted out before she could stop herself.

  Madge and Herman stared at her. So did Joe, for that matter.

  “I only mean, it’s a free country. We all get a chance.” She sneaked a peek at Joe and imagined a smile trying to break through. Madge Elderhorn didn’t look the least bit pleased, however. Darcie had to be careful. She cleaned house for Madge and couldn’t afford to get the woman’s knickers in a twist. But the idea of that sheep-faced Madge Elderhorn telling Joe, who practically ran a home improvement store, that he couldn’t win!

  “Humor me,” Joe said. “Assume I create the winning display. Who would get the money?”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Madge said. “What do you think, Herman?”

  As if basking in the temporary limelight, Herman stroked his chin and cleared his throat.

  Madge thumped him on the arm. “I asked for a quick opinion, Herman, not a Supreme Court decision!”

  “Had to think on it,” Herman said. “The way I see it, technically it would belong to Mr. DeWitt.”

  Madge opened her mouth. “Well, I—”

  “On the other hand,” Herman continued as if making a speech, “I don’t see how he could take it in good conscience, considering that Mr. Northwood would do all the work.”

  Madge opened her mo
uth again. “Yes, but—”

  “Still, it is Mr. DeWitt’s property.”

  “Fine,” Madge said. “However—”

  “Yet Mr. DeWitt has never cared about our festival before.”

  Darcie could see the debate going on forever and Gus was getting squirmy. “I think Mr. Northwood should just call Mr. DeWitt and ask whether he could keep the prize money or not,” she said.

  “Great idea,” Joe said. “Edgar’s a fair guy. I’m sure he’ll say that if my goodies win the prize, I should keep it.”

  Darcie was encouraged enough by his tone of voice to risk addressing him directly again. “Furthermore, I would be honored to help you display your goodies.”

  Watch your tongue, lass! For the love of St. Paddy, don’t be offering to help the bounder display his goodies.

  Joe gazed at Darcie, and his expression was definitely gentler than it had been a few moments ago. “Thanks for the support, but I think I can handle it myself.”

  I don’t like the looks passing between these two. But methinks Mr. Dark and Mysterious is not overfond of babies. Gus held out his arms toward Joe. “Da-da!” he crowed.

  Darcie’s cheeks heated. “Now, Gus, you must stop saying that to perfect strangers.”

  “He seems to know Mr. Northwood,” Madge said.

  “Gus?” Joe’s mouth definitely tilted up at the corners this time. “Did you call him Gus?”

  “It’s his name.” She was a bit touchy on the subject.

  “That’s cute as hell.”

  Cute? ’Tis a name of high distinction, blarney breath!

  Darcie lifted her chin. “He’s named after my dear departed father, Angus Sean O’Banyon.”

  Joe gazed at her. “Strange, but there doesn’t seem to be anything French about that name.”

  “Oh, Darcie’s not French,” Madge said. “She’s as Irish as St. Patrick himself. The French Maid thing is just a clever marketing tactic of hers. I must say it’s paid dividends, hasn’t it, Darcie?”

  “It has at that, Mrs. Elderhorn.”

  “And kept the wolf from the door,” Madge added. “But don’t despair. I imagine Bart Junior will be coming home again and will give this baby a name.”

  Gus wiggled in Darcie’s arms. Let me at her, lass. Could take her, I could.

  “He has a name.” Darcie flushed as she struggled to hold on to Gus and her temper at the same time. Perhaps Madge meant well, but she considered Darcie below the salt, which was why she made so free to air Darcie’s dirty linen in public. Madge couldn’t imagine that someone who cleaned houses for a living had any pride. If Darcie had hoped to maintain a scrap of dignity in front of Joe, that hope was dashed now.

  Joe noticed the color rise in Darcie’s cheeks, and despite his anger over the way she’d fooled him, his heart went out to her. Getting shafted by some jerk was bad enough. Having people gossip about it in front of others was even worse. “And his name fits him perfectly,” he said. “I’ve never seen a more authentic little Irishman in my life.”

  Don’t be trying to get on my good side, you bounder. I know what to expect from the likes of you.

  Darcie’s whole face lit up with gratitude as she smiled at Joe. “He is quite a kid, isn’t he?”

  Her smile hit him like a ton of bricks. When Darcie smiled, she smiled all over. Her green eyes sparkled and her cheeks dimpled. Even her curvy little body seemed to levitate with happiness. Warmth flooded through him, and that zing of sexual feeling sailed right along for the ride.

  And in the midst of all that good feeling, he became inspired. He knew how he was going to win the grand prize, and he also knew that he would split it with Darcie. From the looks of her car, she could use it as much as he could. He only needed half of the five grand anyway, and he’d be Denver-bound to join up with his cousin.

  He turned toward Madge and Herman. “I’ll come up with a decoration for the front yard. I’ll contact DeWitt and see if he’ll let me keep the prize. If he won’t, I’ll put up something basic. If he will, I’ll go for the gold. When does the festival start?”

  “December fifteenth,” Madge said smugly.

  “Ouch. That doesn’t give me much time.”

  “I’d advise you to stick with a basic design,” Madge said, “and save yourself the heartache of losing. We’ve won three out of five years and came in second place the other two years, which is not a cash prize but does involve a rather nice plaque. We intend to win again this year, right, Herman?”

  “That’s what you keep telling me, sugar lump.”

  “Who are the judges by the way?” Joe asked. He needed to know if this was a loaded contest where the winners just happened to be best friends with the judges.

  “Scottsdale business owners for the most part,” Madge said. “Three of them. We never know who it’s going to be, but in the past they’ve shown excellent taste.”

  If she kept up her superior attitude, Joe might be goaded into competing for the prize even if he couldn’t keep it, just to prove it could be done. “We’ll see what DeWitt says.” He checked his watch. “If I call now, I might catch him before he goes to bed. Thanks for dropping by, Mr. and Mrs. Flugelhorn.”

  “Elderhorn.” Madge’s smile was icy. “Come along, Herman.”

  “Nice meeting you,” Herman said as he trailed after his wife.

  Halfway down the drive, Madge turned back. “See you on Friday, Darcie,” she said. “You’ll need to pay particular attention to the front windows this time. They’re very smudged for some reason.”

  “They’ll sparkle like dew on a rose petal,” Darcie said. After Herman and Madge crossed the street, she muttered, “And they’d stay that way if your dogs wouldn’t plaster their wet noses all over them five seconds after I wash them.”

  Joe understood perfectly the note of frustration in her voice. He’d had his share of being treated like a servant, which was why he wanted to win this contest and open a cabinet shop. Then he planned to become so successful that he didn’t have to take anybody’s business unless they treated him with respect.

  He turned to Darcie. “Let’s go inside. I have a proposition for you.”

  4

  DARCIE BACKED AWAY from Joe, Gus clutched protectively against her. “Now wait a minute, mister. I may have played a silly game with the rose and the chocolate. And I may have a baby with no father in sight, but that doesn’t mean I’m some flibbertigibbet who can be had for the price of a sweet word and a smile!”

  Joe shook his head quickly. “No, I’m talking about the contest. I’ve changed my mind about needing your help.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks warmed. She felt like an idiot. And a little disappointed that he wasn’t offering her a different sort of proposition. She wouldn’t accept, of course, but it would be exciting to be asked. She hadn’t been propositioned in a very long time.

  He took off his sunglasses and tucked them in his T-shirt pocket. Then he gazed at her with dark eyes the color of seduction. “And whatever a flibbertigibbet is, I can’t believe it comes close to describing a woman who runs her own business and takes care of a baby at the same time.”

  “Th-thank you.” She’d fantasized what his eyes might look like. As she became lost in their deep brown color and lush fringe of lashes, she realized her imagination hadn’t done him justice.

  “Will you help me?”

  “Of course. After all, I’m the one who soaked Santa and the elves.”

  “And scared the living daylights out of me. I thought Santa and his elves were real people and you’d had a drunken orgy in DeWitt’s house. I even thought you’d barbecued Rudolph.”

  She stared at him in astonishment. Once the picture he’d painted registered, she clapped her free hand over her mouth, but her laughter seeped out anyway.

  Joe’s incredible eyes warmed and his mouth curved in a smile.

  Gus picked up on Darcie’s delight and started in with his cute little baby giggles, drooling and showing off his shiny new teeth. See these teeth,
you with the gleam in your eye? Sharp, they are. Very sharp.

  Joe turned toward the garage. “I’m going in to call DeWitt. No use talking about this until we find out what he has to say.” He started through the garage toward the door leading into the kitchen.

  She followed him into the kitchen. “I’m sorry to have caused you all that worry. You must have been beside yourself.”

  He glanced back at her. “If we can win this contest, all the worry will be worth it, Darcie. Let’s see if DeWitt’s home.”

  “I’ll just feed Gus a bit of lunch, then.” She placed the baby efficiently in the high chair sitting on a drop cloth in the corner of the kitchen. Then she tied a bib around his chubby neck. The bib said, “Kiss me, I’m Irish.”

  As Joe waited for the international connection to go through, he had nothing to do but watch Darcie move around, preparing to feed Gus. He liked the way she moved.

  The hotel’s front desk finally answered.

  “Edgar DeWitt, please.” He prepared to wait some more.

  Darcie took the lid off a plastic bowl and laid cut-up veggies directly on Gus’s tray.

  “You don’t put those in a bowl?” Joe asked.

  “I tried that once. Didn’t work very well.”

  Watching Gus mangle his food was like a rerun from the past for Joe, with two exceptions. Only one baby sat in the kitchen instead of three, and that one baby was not Joe’s responsibility, thank God. But like the triplets, Gus was a human Veg-O-Matic, mashing, grinding and spewing food everywhere. Joe was glad to be across the room out of the line of fire.

  “Edgar DeWitt here,” said a voice on the other end.

  “Edgar, it’s Joe.” Remembering his own recent panic at Darcie’s phone call, he spoke quickly. “First of all, nothing’s wrong.”

  “That’s a relief. When I heard your voice, I had visions of the place in ashes.”

  “Nope.” He’d had those visions himself not long ago. But he couldn’t seem to stay angry with the woman responsible for taking five years off his life. Instead, he found himself admiring the swell of her breasts under the T-shirt. And he shouldn’t be doing that, either. “Listen, I just found out about the Christmas decorating contest.”