Bringing Up Baby New Year & Frisky Business

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Sorry. I forgot to tell you. There’s some cardboard stuff in the garage. Shouldn’t take you long to set it up.”

  Joe glanced over at Darcie, busy coaxing some of the orange and green veggies into Gus, who seemed just as determined to finger paint himself with them instead. Joe couldn’t bring himself to squeal on her. Anyone struggling with a kid less than a year old deserved a break. “I’m afraid I dropped a bucket of water and the stuff got wasted,” he said.

  Darcie stiffened and slowly swung around to face him, her eyebrows lifted. Joe smiled at her. Looking bewildered, she returned her attention to Gus.

  “Oh,” DeWitt said, “well, then—”

  “I’ll work out a new display,” Joe said. “I have some ideas. But I was wondering…if I happened to put up something that wins that five grand they’re offering, would the money be mine or yours?”

  DeWitt laughed. “Yours. And you’ll have earned it. I got a great deal on that house because the previous owners couldn’t take the Tannenbaum Christmas Festival another year. They said the neighbors in our little cul-de-sac acted as if they were going for the Nobel Prize or something.”

  “That would mainly be the Elderhorns, I’ll bet.”

  DeWitt laughed. “So you’ve met them. They’ll be tough to beat.”

  “Yeah, well, I’d like that five grand.” Joe decided not to tell DeWitt about the cabinet shop yet because there was always a chance he wouldn’t win the money. But he certainly planned to do everything in his power to win and finally get his life going the way he wanted it.

  “Good luck,” DeWitt said. “How’re you managing with everything else?”

  “Just fine.”

  “And the French Maid’s working out for you?”

  “She’s a hell of a cleaner.” Joe watched Darcie lean over to pick up a piece of carrot that had escaped the drop cloth. Nice tush. Now that he’d adjusted to the fact that she wasn’t French, he’d gone back to thinking about the notes they’d exchanged and that wild conversation about tulips and erect pistils.

  Darcie might not be French, but she sure seemed hot-blooded. The Irish were known for that, now that he thought about it. Earlier, he’d had an image of lying with her in the grass. It could as easily be shamrocks. Or on the sheets she washed in nonirritating soap to pamper his naked body.

  She was a woman who thought about such things, a woman who liked chocolate and rose petals. If he didn’t have this Denver thing on the horizon…but no, she had a baby.

  No way would he think of getting involved with a woman who had a baby. That was a total turnoff. Or it should be. He couldn’t imagine why he was able to watch her feed that kid and still have fantasies of rolling with her on soft sheets. The notes she’d written must be to blame. He’d get over it.

  As for Darcie, she’d already been dumped on once. This time she’d be going for the white lace and promises for sure. He wasn’t into that right now. He had too many other things to do first.

  “Let me know if you win that contest,” DeWitt said. “And Merry Christmas.”

  “Same to you.” Joe hung up the phone.

  Immediately, Darcie turned to him. She might have looked engrossed in her baby, but she’d obviously been hanging on his every word. She twisted a damp rag in her hands. “Sounds as if you fibbed for me.”

  He shrugged. “A little.” He hadn’t seen many fair-skinned women who looked good without a speck of makeup. Darcie did. Her lips were naturally pink, and her eyelashes might be pale, but they were long and thick and looked just right with her green eyes.

  “I’m obliged to you for that.”

  “Yeah, you’ll have to give me your firstborn.”

  Terror filled her eyes. Behind her, Gus began making an outlandish racket banging on his high-chair tray.

  “Just kidding! Sorry. Bad joke.” He felt like a jerk. Darcie obviously didn’t have much of a sense of humor about this baby of hers.

  “Don’t mind me. I’m sure I overreact on that subject.” She turned a loving gaze on Gus, who’d smeared yellow and green vegetables all over his face and into his hair. He looked like a crazed fan painted up to cheer on the Green Bay Packers in the Super Bowl.

  “I imagine everyone wants him,” Darcie said.

  Behind Darcie’s back, Joe rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I can see that,” he managed to say with an amazing amount of sincerity. He didn’t want to insult her or the kid right now. He needed them both.

  Joe figured Darcie was curious as to whether the deal with DeWitt was on, but instead of questioning him about the conversation, she started cleaning Gus’s face with a damp cloth. He admired her restraint. No doubt about it, the French Maid had class even though she wasn’t French.

  He watched Gus squirm and scrunch up his face trying to avoid the swipe of the rag. Peggy, Ryan and Marty had done the same thing every time he’d tried to clean them up. All he’d wanted was to finish the job quickly so he could play ball or work on his car, and he’d been impatient. Darcie wasn’t impatient. He felt a moment of regret for not treating his sister and brothers with a little more tenderness. They’d been so little.

  “DeWitt said I could have the money,” he said.

  “That’s what I would have expected.” She folded the cloth and rubbed it through Gus’s coppery curls.

  “How would you like to have half?”

  She whirled and stared at him. “Half of the prize money?” Her voice squeaked with excitement.

  “Yep.” He was gratified by her response. She obviously needed a break like this as much as he did.

  She looked really happy at the prospect, but slowly the joy faded from her expression and she narrowed her eyes. “Why would you give me half?”

  “Because I want you to help me.”

  “I already said I’d help you for free. It’s unusual for a man to pay for what he can get for free.”

  He heard the hurt behind her statement. Damn Gus’s father for taking a bright spirit like Darcie and making her so suspicious. “But you didn’t know what I had in mind. You may feel differently when you hear my plan.”

  She folded and refolded the cloth in her hand. “Would this be having anything to do with tulips and pistils?”

  He noticed that her hands were small, and cinnamon freckles dotted her skin there, too. He’d bet those small freckled hands would feel perfect stroking his…. Nope. Couldn’t go there. Remember the baby, he reminded himself. He should make it a slogan, like Remember the Alamo. Remember the Baby. “I promise it has nothing to do with tulips and pistils.” Unfortunately.

  Gus started pounding on the tray of his high chair.

  “Or jungle drums, for that matter,” he added because he was human and he wanted to see if she’d blush. She did, and it made her eyes sparkle even more.

  She rolled the cloth into a cylinder. Surely it was an accident, he thought, the way she clutched it. The way she squeezed…oh, God.

  “Then you’d keep your pistil to yourself?”

  “Yes.” His answer came out a croak. “Put the damned cloth down, Darcie.”

  She glanced down at the cloth as if she hadn’t realized it was there. She gasped and flung it to the table. “I wasn’t—”

  “I didn’t think so.” He took a deep breath. He’d almost wished she had been teasing him. It fitted the image of her he’d carried for weeks. “Look, I might as well tell you straight out that if I’d known you had a baby, I never would have called you last week or asked you to come over Saturday night. Nothing against you. Even though you’re not French, you’re a very pretty woman, one any guy would be lucky to have a chance with, but—”

  “You don’t date women who happen to have babies.”

  “That’s it,” he said gently. “Right now I’m in transition, a rolling stone. I travel light.”

  She nodded. “That way, if the headhunters come for you, you’re ready to move.”

  “Headhunters?” Maybe he still didn’t have the whole story on Darcie. Maybe she’d had some jung
le types in her apartment the other night after all, and she was telling him in her own subtle way that if he stepped out of line, she had connections with people who would handle the situation. “Darcie, you don’t have to threaten me with your jungle friends. I wouldn’t lay a hand on you. Honest.”

  “Jungle friends?” She looked confused. “I don’t—oh!” She laughed nervously, which caused Gus to join in and bang on his tray some more.

  Joe glanced into the little gremlin’s face and almost imagined Gus had understood all that had been going on. But, of course, that was impossible. He wasn’t even a year old yet.

  “I meant the sort of headhunters who go around hiring people away from their jobs,” Darcie said. “Not the kind who lop off your noggin and shrink it down to the size of a coconut.”

  “Oh.” Heat climbed up from the neck of his T-shirt. “Well, I don’t have those kind of headhunters looking for me. I only work in the lumber department at Home World.”

  “And here I thought you were in charge of the whole shebang!”

  “I’m not even in charge of a small part of the shebang.”

  “So what was all that with the fancy stationery?”

  Ah, he had her there. “What was all that with yours?”

  “Business!”

  “Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms and gazed at her. “And the single red rose by the bedside? Was that business, too?”

  She glanced away, her color high. “So I flirted with you. You flirted with me, too, telling me you slept naked. Strewing those rose petals around. Making me think of…things I shouldn’t be thinking of.”

  Remember the Baby. Remember the Baby. “Like what?” he asked softly.

  She turned to him, the look in her eyes giving her away. He’d imagined that look in the French Maid’s eyes. He took a step closer.

  Back up that hay wagon, blarney breath! Gus started rocking violently in his high chair. The things I’m called upon to do to save you, lass. Sure and I hate this part. He banged his head against the back of the high chair and started to wail.

  Darcie snapped out of her trance and raced to the high chair. “Gus! Oh, Gus, what did you go and do that for?”

  Sacrificed myself to preserve your good name. He continued to cry as she cuddled him.

  “Is he okay?” Joe asked.

  “He’ll be fine in a minute. Just a little bump. I don’t know what got into him.”

  Joe couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that the baby had intended to interrupt the moment. He supposed a little kid like that could experience jealousy if he sensed his mother wasn’t paying enough attention to him. Well, at least the moment had been interrupted, whether Gus had meant to do it or not. Joe ran a hand over his face. What had he been thinking?

  Gradually, the baby’s sobs subsided.

  Joe cleared his throat. “I guess we’d better get back to the issue of the contest. Are you ready to win it with me?”

  “I admire your spirit, but I don’t think it will be that easy.” She rocked back and forth with Gus, who was staring right at Joe. “The Elderhorns—”

  “We can beat them,” Joe said.

  “How?”

  “By giving the judges something the others in this subdivision don’t have. Tannenbaum is short on kids, I’ve noticed.”

  “True. Hardly any.”

  “So who else could present a live Nativity scene but you, me and Chief Carrot Juice here?”

  Darcie stared at him, obviously dumbfounded. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph.”

  He grinned at the epithet. “That was pretty much my concept.”

  MADGE HAD PROMISED HERMAN she’d help him shop for one of those flat televisions that hang on the wall, which about killed her because she couldn’t stay home to monitor her listening device while those two across the street were actually in the house together doing Lord knows what. But Madge could imagine what. Babies took naps after all.

  The expedition took forever because Herman wanted to debate the issue as if world peace depended on it. Finally, Madge insisted they buy the silly thing so she could get home and find a private moment to call Trudy.

  While Herman was busy hooking it up, she hurried to her sewing room, closed the door and made her call.

  She didn’t even identify herself anymore. She and Trudy had become that close. “Was she any different today when she cleaned for you?” She was out of breath from climbing the stairs and the excitement of her news.

  “A little distracted maybe. Very fast. Why?”

  “We have contact confirmed,” she said, shivering with delight.

  “Confirmed? What did you do, install a security camera in the house?”

  “I keep telling you I don’t break and enter. Unless you think—”

  “No, no. What do you mean, confirmed?”

  “He came home for lunch.”

  “Oh, lunch.”

  “Exactly. Fortunately, Herman and I were there.”

  “You went over there for lunch, too?”

  “No, I had to go over in my official capacity because Darcie was drying elves on the front lawn.”

  “Elves? What—”

  “Never mind about that. The important thing is that he showed up. And let me tell you—fireworks.”

  “You mean fireworks as in lust?”

  “Triple strength, baby. Looks passed between them that would singe the hair on your arms.” Madge paused for dramatic emphasis before she added the final stroke to her picture. “He spoke French to her.”

  “Oh, my God. French.”

  “And they’ve come up with a cover story to disguise what’s going on. Supposedly they’re going to work together to put up a Christmas display in Edgar’s yard, ha-ha. This Joe Northwood pretends like he’s after the prize, as if any of us would believe that.”

  “No one ever would,” Trudy agreed.

  “I think you’re safe to tell Bart Junior he’d better get on home if he wants to protect what’s his.”

  “I think you’re right, but I never know when he’s going to call. So keep gathering information. I might as well have plenty of ammunition when the time comes.”

  “Will do. Over and out.”

  5

  BECAUSE THEY BOTH had to leave—Joe heading back to Home World and Darcie driving to the Butterworths’—they had no more time to discuss the plan. They agreed to meet at DeWitt’s house that night after dinner and figure out the details.

  But Darcie was already figuring out details. She tried not to become too excited about the prospect of twenty-five-hundred dollars, but she couldn’t help herself. After whipping through the Butterworth house in record time, she hurried home and started digging in her closet in search of costumes.

  She took time to fix a quick sandwich for herself and shovel more food into Gus before she decked herself out in what she’d found in order to demonstrate the outfit to Joe. Her chenille bathrobe formed the central part of her Virgin Mary costume, and she tied a towel around her head with a piece of rope. Tucking Gus into his car seat, she started out.

  The car seemed to cough and sputter more than usual during the trip.

  “You sound as if you need a mustard plaster,” Darcie lectured the car. “I don’t have the time or the money to tend to you, and even if I should get some money, I don’t want to spend it on your cranky innards, so stop your shenanigans this minute.”

  Less than a mile from DeWitt’s house, the car did stop…completely.

  “Traitorous vehicle! See if I buy you new tires if I win the lottery this week!” Darcie glanced at the elegant homes around her. “Well, it’s not a total disaster. You’ve plunked me down in an upscale neighborhood at least.”

  Taking Gus from the car seat, she walked to the nearest house and rang the bell. Icicle lights hung from the eaves, flashing on and off as Darcie waited.

  Gus burbled and pointed at the lights. Bet those run up the bill faster than an alderman in a tavern.

  “I know. They are lovely.” Darcie felt guilty that she hadn�
��t put up any lights yet for Gus to enjoy, but she hated to spend the money when she was guarding every penny. And now her car had given up the ghost.

  She heard someone coming to the door and reminded herself that people were nervous about letting strangers enter their houses, which was sensible these days. She wouldn’t ask to go in and use the telephone. She’d ask them to call Joe for her and she’d stay out on the porch.

  The weather was so nice she didn’t mind. After living in Ireland until the age of thirteen, and then in New York City until her father’s health forced a change, she still couldn’t believe the mild temperatures of an Arizona winter night. And this season seemed even warmer than usual, which was why she’d even consider Joe’s plan to park them all on the front lawn every evening.

  The door opened and a woman with a long mane of golden hair and absolutely no eyebrows peered out. She looked startled, Darcie thought, but a person with no eyebrows might always look startled, so Darcie couldn’t tell for certain.

  “Excuse me for disturbing you,” Darcie said. “My baby and I need a little help. If you would be so kind as to—”

  “Heavens!” The woman reached out, grabbed Darcie by the arm and pulled her through the doorway. “Get in here. Did he follow you?”

  “Who?” Darcie blinked in the light of the living room and clutched Gus a little closer. She hoped she hadn’t stumbled upon the house of a madwoman.

  “Your tyrannical fanatic of a husband, of course. Don’t worry. I saw Not Without My Daughter. You’ll be safe with me. What a darling baby. Must not take after his loathsome father.”

  The woman might be missing an oar on her dinghy, but she had that last part right. “No, he doesn’t, as a matter of fact.”

  “That’s lucky. You can sleep in the spare room if you like. Now that the ratfink has decided to leave me, I’m here alone, and I’d be delighted to offer you and your baby safe haven for as long as you like. In fact, I insist on helping. Women who are victims of men’s cruelty should stick together.”