What The Nursery Needs.... Terry Essig
cleared her throat and smiled. “I’ve got an idea,” she said, sounding very much like the cat that swallowed the cream. “Why don’t you go along with them, Jason? The four of you could all go together and spend the day at the mall. Go to lunch. Maybe even see a movie if you get shopped out.” Monica shot an ingenuous smile at her sister.
Catherine blinked. She’d been outmaneuvered. Darn her sister’s rotten hide. “Jason might not be comfortable spending his day with three women, Monica. You know how men are about shopping. You shouldn’t put him on the spot like that.”
Jason sighed. This really was not the way he wanted to spend half of his precious weekend. Still, it was probably the only way he’d spend time with Maura without getting himself further into the doghouse. “No, it’s all right,” he said. “I’d be a fool to turn down the opportunity to escort three such beautiful women anywhere, even the mall. I’ll drive. I’ll even spring for lunch.”
“Dad!” Maura wailed. “Everything will be wrecked if you come along!”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Maura, I happen to know that the only time you even acknowledge my presence when we’re out in public is when it’s time to get out the credit cards. Otherwise I’m pretty much just a background fixture. How will my coming along ruin things?” He already knew the answer. It just didn’t make any sense to him.
“Because you’re my father!” his daughter cried. “Couldn’t you just give me some money and let me go with them?”
Jason rubbed his eyes tiredly. He wanted to be a friend to his daughter, God knew he did. Was it his fault Maura kept pushing him into the roll of disciplinarian? “Maura,” he began patiently, “by choosing to force the issue here and now instead of waiting until we’re alone and could talk this out, you’ve put me in the position where I’ll have to speak plainly and possibly embarrass you and your friend.”
Maura’s eyes widened in consternation.
“You’ve been wanting to go to the mall, and I have offered several times to take you. Here’s an opportunity for you to get what you want. But Saturday is my day to spend some time with you. I’m afraid you’re going to have to suffer my company or lose the trip.”
Maura’s lower lip was stuck out about a half a yard, Jason thought as he measured it with his eyes. This was one unhappy little girl. “Come on, honey, give a little, get a little. You’re going to have to learn the fine art of compromise.”
Catherine decided to put in her two cents’ worth. She was unwillingly starting to like and respect this Jason Engel. He wasn’t afraid to stick to his guns, not even in the face of some formidable preadolescent resistance. “Your dad’s right, Maura. You’re a very lucky girl that he cares enough to be so careful of you. Let’s give him a break and let him come along. Next time we’ll make it all girls, all right?”
Maura looked to Amy for final approval.
Amy shrugged.
Maura turned to Catherine and her father and reluctantly nodded. “Okay, I guess.”
Jason felt like he’d just won a major victory. He wanted to stand up and shout alleluia, possibly turn a few cartwheels, but he merely nodded at his daughter to indicate he’d heard. “Ten o’clock Saturday morning?” he asked Catherine.
“Sounds good,” Catherine said.
Jason looked at his plate. Somehow, in the midst of all the negotiations, he’d managed to clean it up. He pushed back his chair. “Good. Maura and I will pick you and Amy up. But for now we’ll help you clean up, and then I’m afraid we’ve got to get going. Maura’s got homework to do and I’ve got some paperwork waiting for me. Maura, you clear the table and put all the plates in the trash, and I’ll close up the containers and stash them in the fridge.”
“You don’t have to—”
“We insist, don’t we, Maura?” Her dad arched that impressive brow in his daughter’s direction.
“But—”
“Forget it, Ms. Nicholson,” Maura said, whisking Catherine’s plate away from in front of her. “Dad’s a real stickler about not taking advantage and always pitching in when somebody’s done something nice for you.”
“Oh, well...”
The table was cleared and the leftover takeout already in the refrigerator. Catherine was still in her chair. The man worked fast. She’d have to remember that. “I guess I’ll see you Saturday, then,” she said weakly.
Jason nodded, Maura was more verbose. She had her arm around Amy, and they walked to the door together. “We’ll still have fun on Saturday, even with my dad along,” Maura bubbled, her head close to Amy’s. “You’ll see. There’s just this one little problem I need to figure out.” She looked furtively over her shoulder.
Jason was no more than two steps behind. It would have been impossible not to hear, but he was getting good at pretending. In dealing with a preadolescent, he had discovered it was the better part of valor. There were enough big things you had to make a stand on that if you included the non-life-threatening stuff, as well, there’d never be a moment’s peace. So, he kept his head up and his eyes straight ahead, pretending not to hear. If his daughter thought she and her friend were going to ditch him once they hit the mall, they had another think coming.
“We’ll talk about it at school,” Maura told her friend, much to Jason’s disappointment. Oh, well, Maura wasn’t very good at keeping secrets. He’d find out sooner or later.
Catherine’s store was closed Mondays, which was why she’d chosen it as a moving day. The next morning found her back at her shop, Hand Arounds, doing her best to concentrate on the work in front of her rather than on the boxes waiting to be unpacked at her new house.
“Yes, I’m quite sure that you paid $16.00 for that blouse brand-new, Mrs. Conroy, but I’ll only be able to get $3.00 for it secondhand, which means I can only pay you $1.50 for it. The jumper would be $3.50 and I’d be able to do $1.50 for the pants. See where they’re slightly frayed? If you want to change your mind about selling your daughter’s things, I understand, but I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.”
While Catherine waited for the balking Mrs. Conroy to make up her mind, she thought about Jason Engel.
Was her sister right?
No, of course not. Monica was a nutcase. She was never right.
Well, she wasn’t totally wrong, either, Catherine admitted. The idea of trying to find a sperm bank and implement her idea was nerve-racking as all get-out. That much she’d give Monica. But Jason Engel as husband and father of her dream child? Uh-uh. No way. She’d liked Gerald, but the decision to marry him had been almost intellectual. She’d weighed the pros and cons carefully then made her choice. Her heart had been involved, certainly, but not to the extent that her feelings had overridden her intellect.
Somehow she doubted she’d get away with such lukewarm responses to any involvement with Jason Engel. Which meant that if she ever lost her heart to a virile specimen like that, she’d certainly never recover.
Catherine rang up two pair of booties at seventy-five cents each and a terry cloth sleeper for $2.50 while she pondered the problem.
She liked Maura. Under all that preadolescent angst, Maura was a decent kid who’d turn out just fine provided her dad stayed on top of things. She had a pretty little face. She’d seen it when the child had briefty stopped scowling. It would be nice if Catherine’s baby, when she came, had hair as nice and thick as Maura’s.
The girl had nice-colored eyes, too. They matched her dad’s, and the gene for brown was dominant. She could live with that, Catherine decided. Especially if they came with the same dark, spiky lashes that Maura had.
Catherine made change for a five-dollar