Page 47 of The Guest Cottage

“He’ll probably be back asleep in a minute. The drive was hard on him. I think it wore him out.”

It looked to Marlow as if it had worn out Pixie, too.

Without looking up, Pixie stroked her fingertips over the baby’s cheek. “That was my last diaper. My car is on empty. And I only have forty dollars left to my name.”

Marlow sank to the couch again, the dirty diaper forgotten.

“I’m so ashamed,” Pixie said. “My life is a complete mess, and I have no one to blame but myself. You have every reason to hate me, Ms. Heddings. Most of the time I hate myself, especially because there’s so little I can offer Andy.” She pressed a kiss to the baby’s head. “I love him so much.” When her voice broke, she squeezed her eyes shut, got herself under control, and promised, “I won’t sob on you anymore. I can’t believe I did that already. I just . . . I meant it when I said I had nowhere else to go.”

The baby stopped sucking, and Pixie expertly rearranged herself before putting him to her shoulder. Gently, she rubbed his back until he gave a loud burp.

Cort stepped into the room. “Soup’s ready,” he said quietly. “Where would you like to put him?”

Pixie looked uncertainly at Marlow. “It’s okay if I stay to eat the soup?”

“I insist on it.” There was no way she could turn the young woman out, not until she knew what was going on and how Pixie had gotten into such a dire circumstance.

Pixie gave the briefest nod of thanks. “Then maybe we could put his blanket on the floor instead of the couch? He’s not rolling over yet, but he does rock sometimes, and he often spits up.” She touched a thin, pale hand to a couch cushion. “I wouldn’t want him to ruin your beautiful furniture.”

“It’s not actually mine. It’s Cort’s.” That struck Marlow, and she said, “I didn’t introduce you. I’m so sorry. Pixie Nolan, this is Cort Easton, my landlord.”And now more. “Let me grab a quilt.” She hurried to the bedroom and back, then put the folded quilt on the floor for padding, with the baby’s blanket over it.

Cort asked, “May I?” and carefully took the baby from his mother.

Marlow knew why. As Pixie stood, she wavered, looking far too frail and unsteady.

She watched, her gaze anxious, until Cort had her baby settled. “His name is Andy.” She twisted her fingers together. “Could I use your restroom?”

“Of course.” Marlow led her through the bedroom to the only bathroom in the cottage. “Pixie.”

The girl paused.

“When did you last eat?”

Holding onto the door frame, she smiled. “Yesterday.”

So many questions went through her mind. “When yesterday?”

The smile slipped, and Pixie looked away. “Ms. Heddings—”

“Marlow. You’re here, so we may as well drop formality. Now tell me when you last ate. No reason to dodge the truth. As I said, you’re here.”

Again, Pixie met her gaze. “Breakfast yesterday. I’ll admit I’m pretty hungry.”

Hungry, sick, breastfeeding, caring for a baby, and without options. “Wash up and then join us in the kitchen.”

Nodding, Pixie quietly closed the door.

Cort was leaning against the counter when she came into the kitchen. “I heard,” he said. He pulled out a chair for her. “You want some soup, too?”

“May as well. I always eat when I’m vexed.”

“This is certainly a vexing situation,” he replied with enough seriousness to let her know he was teasing.

She tipped back her head. “What am I going to do?”

“I don’t know, but I have a suggestion that might help and gain you a little time to think about it.”

“Let’s hear it.”

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