Bringing Up Baby New Year & Frisky Business

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Why?”

  “I’ve gone over and over this problem, and I only have one solution. I can’t get your car to run. It’ll take lots of money to do that. You won’t have that kind of money until we win the contest, so for the next three weeks we’re down to one vehicle.”

  She smiled nervously. “You sound as if we’re old married people with that kind of talk.”

  “Worse than that. We’re going to have to live together.”

  Gus threw up all over Darcie’s lap.

  “THAT MAN IS UP to something,” Geraldine said.

  “I’ve turned it over in my mind a million times and I can’t think of a different solution, either,” Darcie said. She’d stopped at Geraldine’s after finishing her cleaning. “I can’t afford to rent a car, and there’s no way I can haul Gus and my cleaning supplies around on a bus.”

  Fresh from a nap, Gus cruised around Geraldine’s coffee table, which she’d cleared off in preparation for the baby’s visit. Geraldine had given him a short, curly brown wig to wear the minute he came in the door, so he looked like one of the Three Stooges. Geraldine got such a kick out of dressing him in her wigs that Darcie didn’t have the heart to stop her. Besides, Gus was turning into a regular little ham, seeming to love the limelight.

  “I could advance you the money to rent a car,” Geraldine said. “Or just give you the money. I intend to get lots of it when the divorce is final, and I can spare some now.”

  “Thank you, but no.” Darcie laid a hand over Geraldine’s and squeezed. “You’re very kind to offer, but I couldn’t take it. At least Joe has a stake in my transportation needs.”

  “So do I. That runaround I married also cheated me out of having kids, which I didn’t realize I craved so desperately until you walked in the door last night with Gus. I’ve decided to watch over you like, well…like your mother would have done if she could be here.”

  Darcie’s eyes filled unexpectedly. “You…you will?”

  “Unless the idea fills you with horror.”

  “Absolutely not!” Darcie threw her arms around Geraldine and gave her a big hug. Geraldine’s blond wig nearly smothered her, but she didn’t care.

  Geraldine hugged her back. “So, will you take the money for the car?”

  “No.” Darcie drew back with a watery smile. “Just having you in my corner is more than enough.”

  Geraldine shook her head. “Okay, but I don’t like the looks of this arrangement. It’s trouble—you in such close proximity to a man who looks like Joe and has announced he’ll have nothing to do with a ready-made family.”

  “But it makes sense for the contest since Gus and I will need to be over there a lot anyway. And he can easily loan me his truck because we’re really not that far from Home World. He can walk it in no time.”

  “Just don’t go feeling obligated for the loan of that truck.” Geraldine had on eyebrows today, carefully drawn above her gray eyes. She also wore the blond wig Gus had pulled off her the night before, and a bright red jumpsuit to match her fingernails. “He needs you in order to create this live Nativity scene. I just wish I could be sure he’s not setting you up for a live bedroom scene at the same time.”

  “After what happened last night, we each promised to keep our mouths to ourselves.”

  Geraldine’s penciled brows shot up. “What did that weasel do to you last night?”

  “It wasn’t all him. We kissed each other.” The memory still made her weak in the knees and moist in other significant parts of her body.

  “Darcie O’Banyon, wipe that gaga look off your face this instant! Please don’t tell me you looked at him that way after it happened.”

  “It’s possible.” She was pretty sure she had, come to think of it.

  Geraldine groaned. Then she turned to Gus, who had worked his way around to her knee. “Gus, look at me.”

  Gus stared up at her through the brown bangs of the wig. Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.

  “Okay, Gus, this is a critical situation. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Gus crowed and flexed his knees. Critical as they come, and I’m not just spitting shamrocks.

  “It’s up to you to chaperon these two, Gus,” Geraldine said, her tone completely serious. “And you don’t have a lot of strategies open to you. But you have one that’s sure to work with the likes of Joe Northwood.”

  I’m way ahead of you, lass.

  Darcie smiled. “Gus called out to me last night, almost as if he wanted to break us up. And it worked.”

  “Excellent. But, Gus, you may need to pull out all the stops to protect your mommy from the big bad wolf. If Joe Northwood steps out of line, I want you to let him have it with both barrels. Poop in your diaper. And I’m not talking one of your average, ordinary loads, Gus. I want you to give it all you’ve got. I’ve yet to see the man who can face that and maintain his…enthusiasm. Do you understand, Gus?”

  Gus held on to the table with one hand and babbled his nonsense syllables while he patted Geraldine’s knee with his free hand. ’Tis the Duke of Doo-doo you’re addressing. I can handle this.

  Darcie couldn’t help laughing. “You needn’t worry so, Geraldine. Joe is as frightened of me and Gus as I am of him.”

  “Uh-huh. He’s petrified. That’s why he’s moved you in within twenty-four hours of laying eyes on you.”

  “It’s all connected with the contest.”

  “I wish I could believe that, but I think there’s more than this ridiculous contest on that man’s mind. He’ll make a move on you.” She took a swig of her drink, which was definitely not ginger ale. “And I’ll be there when he does.”

  EVENTUALLY, DARCIE PRIED Gus loose from the brown wig and continued on her way over to Joe’s house with a sense of anticipation. Ever since Joe had suggested that she move in until the contest was over, she’d had a bubble of excitement growing inside her that had nothing to do with the money they might win.

  She’d never admit such a thing to Geraldine because Geraldine would lecture her about maintaining her defenses so that she wouldn’t end up with a broken heart. Darcie didn’t want a broken heart any more than the next woman, but she’d spent the past eighteen months living like a blessed nun. Besides that, cleaning for others and taking care of a baby the rest of the time left her feeling like a sexless drone. There were days she wondered if she’d ever be interesting to any man again.

  But from the evidence of that French kiss Joe had given her, she wouldn’t be overstating the case to say that he was in lust. Basking for three solid weeks in his presence while holding him off, of course, would put the bloom back in her cheeks. Already she felt her sexual self-confidence returning.

  As she operated the garage-door opener and parked the truck inside, she spoke to Gus, who was belted into his car seat next to her. “I’ve decided how we should look at this turn of events, Gus. We’re going to pretend we’re on vacation.”

  Gus chortled as he waved his hands and wiggled, ready to be out of his seat. You may be on vacation, lass, but I’m on a mission.

  Darcie got out of the truck and went around to fetch Gus. “You’ve never had a vacation, have you? Come to think of it, I’ve had few to none myself.” She lifted him into her arms. “Don’t misunderstand me. We’ll have to work like always, but we’ll be living like the lord and lady of a castle. Wait until you see the tub. Not a chip in sight. And the towels! You’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven when I wrap you in one of those thick towels. Like a lamb’s pelt. I can hardly wait to try out the tub myself.”

  “Ma-ma.” Gus grabbed her around the neck, got a fistful of hair and pulled. You’ll not be taking tub baths on my watch. Not with that bounder roaming the halls.

  “You’re going to pluck me bald, you little leprechaun.” She disentangled his fingers from her hair and carried him toward the door leading into the kitchen. She’d left her hair loose instead of pulling it back in a clip, and the reason, the one she blushed to admit, was Joe. When he’d bur
ied his fingers in her hair as he’d kissed her, she’d suspected he liked doing that. So she’d washed and brushed her hair with special attention this morning.

  “Are you ready, Gus? As your grandpa used to say, we’ll be knee-deep in shamrocks and ass-high in daffodils for the next three weeks.” She opened the door and almost dropped Gus.

  Staring at her through the kitchen window was…she blinked and looked again…a cow.

  Gus bounced in her arms and pointed, drooling and spitting bubbles in his excitement. Reinforcements! Cow chips!

  “I must be imagining things,” Darcie muttered. But the cow was there after she blinked several more times.

  Gus became more excited by the minute. “Da-da!” he crowed.

  “No, sweetheart. Your da was a pig, not a cow.” Darcie stared at the cow, a handsome golden beast with a white blaze down its nose. It stared right back, its jaws working.

  “We need to do something about this cow, Gus.” Darcie aimed a stern look at the animal. “Do not slobber on my clean window, Bossy.” With one last glance at the cow, she carried a wiggling Gus into the living room and put him in the playpen she and Joe had left set up from the night before.

  Gus didn’t like that one bit. He hung on the side and fretted. Bossy and I have business to discuss, we do.

  “Sorry, baby boy.” She handed him one of his squeaky toys, which he stuck in his mouth. “You stay there while I call someone about this cow. Maybe Joe left a gate open and it wandered in, though I can’t imagine where it came from. Dairy cows are against the deed restrictions in Tannenbaum, I expect. I’d better call 9-1-1. And report a stray cow.”

  She walked into the kitchen, then reached for the phone just as it rang. Although she’d never answered the phone in this house, she decided to answer it now. She’d notified her clients that she could be reached at this number for the next three weeks. She was living here now after all.

  She plucked the cordless receiver from its cradle. “Hello?”

  “Darcie!” Joe said. “I’m so glad you’re there.”

  “I’m very glad, too. You see, there’s a—”

  “I know. A calf in the backyard. I wonder if you—”

  “It’s not a calf. It’s a full-grown cow!”

  “Now, Darcie, it might look big to you, but it’s just a calf. I figured we could smuggle it in, get it used to us and then make it part of the manger scene the night the judges come by. You know, to take attention away from Gus’s teeth. I’m considering a burro, too, if I can locate a small one.”

  Darcie walked over to the window and gazed out at the cow. “It’s the first calf I’ve seen with an udder. Looks like she’s ready to be milked.”

  “An udder?” Joe laughed indulgently. “Darcie, are you sure you’re not confusing an udder with some other dangling parts? Maybe this is a well-hung little boy calf.”

  Darcie rolled her eyes. As if she hadn’t milked cows many a time as a girl in County Kerry. As if she hadn’t helped castrate her share of rams from her uncle’s flock of sheep. As if she couldn’t tell the difference between an udder and those other parts, the ones male animals were so all-fired proud of. “Let me describe the dangling part to you, Joe. About the size of a basketball, with four little knobs hanging from it. Does that sound like your average testicle?”

  “Oh, my God, it is a cow.”

  The cow chose that moment to make herself heard. She stuck her nose right up to the window and bellowed.

  “Oh, my God,” Joe said again. “I’ll try to get hold of Bill. There’s been a mistake.”

  The cow let out another loud moo.

  “Damn,” Joe said. “Darcie, can you keep her quiet until I can get home? If I can get somebody to cover the last hour of my shift, I can be there in ten minutes if I jog. We have to take care of this.”

  “I’ll do what I can, but—”

  “I’ll be there as quick as I can. Don’t let the neighbors see her. Or hear her.”

  The doorbell chimed.

  “That would be the neighbors, I expect,” Darcie said, “asking about the cow we seem to have in the backyard. What would you have me tell them, Joe?”

  “I don’t know, but we don’t want them to get wind of our Nativity scene idea. Aren’t the Irish supposed to be good storytellers? Maybe you could make something up.” The line clicked.

  “Make something up, the man says,” Darcie muttered. “As if it would be duck soup to explain a cow in the backyard.” She scooped up Gus on her way through the living room. After peering through the peephole in the door, she opened it. “Hello, Mrs. Elderhorn, Mr. Elderhorn. I suppose you’ve come about the cow in the backyard.”

  8

  JOE DIDN’T JOG. HE RAN. He had no luck getting in touch with Bill, the Home World customer who had a small farm on the outskirts of town and had offered to rent Joe a calf for a few weeks. At least that’s what Joe had thought he was renting. Bill was getting on in years and he might need his hearing aid adjusted.

  Sprinting up the sidewalk to the front door, Joe stopped to catch his breath before he walked in. A block patio wall kept the cow invisible from the street, and she wasn’t making cow sounds at the moment. He wondered if Darcie still had one of the neighbors inside and if she’d been able to pacify them without giving away his idea of a live manger scene.

  Good thing Darcie had been there. In the back of his mind, he registered a tingle of excitement knowing that, beginning now, she would be there every night when he came home.

  Running his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, he walked in the front door. No one was in the living room—even Gus’s playpen was empty. Joe heard voices coming from the kitchen and headed there.

  Darcie sat at the kitchen table with Madge and Herman Elderhorn, and in what Joe considered a stroke of genius, she’d served everyone a foaming mug of beer. Or maybe two. There were enough dead soldiers on the drain board that somebody was on his or her third round. She’d even found the mugs he kept chilled in the freezer. Gus sat in his high chair holding a cup with a spout on it. Joe assumed Gus was drinking juice and not swilling beer like the rest of the crowd.

  Darcie glanced up and smiled as he came in. Just like that, she could make him feel like a king. Then he realized that she’d had more than one story to make up for Madge and Herman. Not only did she need to explain the cow that was sure enough staring in the kitchen window at all of them, but she’d had to come up with a reason why she was moving in.

  He figured he’d better let her lead. He tipped his head in greeting. “Afternoon, folks. That beer looks good.”

  “We helped ourselves to your Guinness,” Darcie said, “while I explained to Mr. and Mrs. Elderhorn about your Save the Animals Millennium Project.”

  Joe blinked. “Uh, right. Animals are people, too.”

  Madge Elderhorn looked at him with such mellowness that it was a safe bet that she’d been the one who polished off two beers and was on her third. “I had no idea you were so highly placed in the SPCA, Mr. Northwood,” she said. “I’m a friend to animals myself.”

  “Call me Joe.” He poured himself a beer, pulled up a chair and glanced at Darcie. “All my animal friends do.”

  Mrs. Elderhorn simpered. “Only if you’ll call me Madge.”

  “It’d be a pleasure, Madge.” He’d never been much for simpering, and on Madge, who bore a strong resemblance to the animal peering in the kitchen window, it was enough to make a guy’s stomach queasy, but he managed a smile. If Darcie could sling it around, so could he.

  “I’ve been telling Mr. and Mrs. Elderhorn about the Hollywood celebrities supporting your cause.”

  This promised to be a humdinger. Joe wondered if he should have given Darcie her head. But he hadn’t had much choice. “Well, yeah. Mel and Cher gave me the old thumbs-up. And Oprah, of course.”

  Madge gasped. “You’ve spoken personally with Oprah Winfrey?”

  “His people have spoken with her people,” Darcie said quickly. “That’s how these thi
ngs work.”

  “Oh, why yes, that makes sense.” Madge nodded wisely and took another long swig of her beer.

  “Quite a practical joke one of them pulled,” Herman said, “delivering a cow to your door.”

  Joe gazed at Darcie in admiration. “You know these Hollywood people. Can’t resist doing something outrageous.”

  “We can’t figure out if it was Robin Williams or Eddie Murphy,” Darcie said, “but the cow came with a sign around her neck that said Milk Cows Are Udderly Oppressed. Robin and Eddie are both huge supporters of Joe’s campaign. Huge. But naturally, they like to make their point with comedy.”

  Madge’s gaze was worshipful. “Imagine having a Hollywood insider right here in the neighborhood. Do you…think any of your friends will…drop by?”

  Joe took a sip of his beer. “Hard to say. Shooting schedules are tight. These are big stars, and they’re in demand.”

  Herman leaned forward. “How come we haven’t seen anything about this on TV? You’d think 20/20 would have done something.”

  “All the media is set to break on New Year’s Day,” Darcie said. “More impact. A big event’s in production during halftime of the Super Bowl.”

  Joe managed an indulgent laugh. “You mean the Rose Bowl, Darcie. That’s the one played on New Year’s Day. The Super Bowl comes later in January.” He turned to Madge and Herman. “Her heart’s in the right place, but she doesn’t know a tight end from a tightrope.”

  Darcie sent him a challenging look. “Seems to me they all have tight ends nowadays, so who could tell? And they’re proud to show them off, too, in those shiny pants that look painted on.”

  Madge rolled her eyes. “Oh, I know what you mean, Darcie. I never used to care about football, but lately, with the way those satin knickers fit, when they get into that three-point stance…oo-la-la. I started taking my binoculars to the Cardinals’ games.”

  Herman stared at his wife in total amazement. “That’s why you take your binoculars, sugar lump? To ogle their fannies?”