Page 25 of This Baby Business
I’ve been following your career at RockYourBaby, and I’m interested in what you’re doing. Let’s catch up. Send me some good times to call you.
I wondered if the Cutting Edge, a design company always at the forefront of all new fashion and product trends, might possibly be interested in a baby blog. But mycareerat RockYourBaby? More than likely, Jenny had heard about the viral post, because she was a lot of things, and one of them was a social media guru. Jenny had been on the fast track at the FIT so it didn’t surprise me that she was emailing from the headquarters of the Cutting Edge in New York City. It had been three years now since those in my class would have graduated and gone on to internships and jobs. Three years since I had come home. And I couldn’t blame it all on Alec. The pressure, all the competition, had gotten to me, but mythingwith Alec hadn’t helped.
Smart and gorgeous Alec Higgins, who thought I was beautiful and unique. Who told me that dyslexia would never stop me from achieving my dreams. He’d been the first teacher to believe in me. The first person other than family and friends to give me encouragement.
I rubbed my lucky ring and wrote back with my cell phone number and good times to reach me. I spell-checked three times before hitting Send.
Imagine that. I’d been working at this for months, but one little viral blog post and suddenly I’d arrived. The Cutting Edge had the kind of powerful presence that would keep RockYourBaby relevant, continuing to help and inspire new mothers everywhere, as Mom would have wanted. That was, if they were interested in RockYourBaby. Dad could have money for his PT. I could move on, back to New York City. Win-win-win.
Ifthe Cutting Edge was interested.
But if they were, this could be all I needed to sell RockYourBaby. Even a small amount of interest from The Cutting Edge, announced in a thinly veiled press release, might mean other companies would sit up and take notice. Nothing could go wrong now. We were so close I could taste my looming freedom.
Later, I fed Grace lunch. Peas, which Grace chewed, spit out, then found were much more fun to throw at me. After cleaning up the mess, I decided that stay-at-home mothers deserved gold medals. Maybe I’d write a blog post about that.Ode to the Unsung Heroes.I bathed Grace close to the time Levi would pick her up so I’d be exceptionally clean for the meeting with her grandmother. Dressed her in a pair of cute blue baby leggings and a matching top I’d sewn one night when I couldn’t sleep. This cute outfit should impress the grandmother if nothing else. If only all fashion could be as simple as sewing cute baby clothes. With my own clothes and style, I knew what I liked, but it was hard to recreate it in a new and unique way.
For once, Levi was late to pick up Grace. If there was one thing you could say about Levi Lambert, it was that he was always on time unless he was early. I texted him.
She’s ready to go. Are you on your way?
No response, but there wouldn’t be one if he was in a plane. Of course, he shouldn’tbein a plane. He should be on his way home now so he could get to the meeting at the park on time. Unless his flight was delayed and he had no control over it. I thought of dialing the airport but didn’t want to overreact. Zoey and Jill were forever telling me that I got too emotional too fast. Time to stop that.
Levi would get here any minute. Sure he would.
And a few minutes later, Levi was officially late. This had never happened in the nearly two weeks since I’d known him. A text message buzzed.
Just landed. Flight delayed. On my way. Meet me at the park?
I texted that of course I would. I changed from my casual leggings and top and searched for the most conservative outfit I could find in my closet. I settled on a black peplum skirt and high-necked sheer blue blouse and was out the door with Grace within minutes.
I pulled into the parking lot a few minutes later. The park was mostly deserted other than a middle-aged woman sitting at a picnic table a few feet away. She had shoulder-length dark hair, carried a cute Coach bag—looked like a knockoff from here—and wore beige slacks and a scoop-neck T-shirt. It was possible she wasn’t Grace’s grandmother, because she looked young to be a grandmother.
Sitting in my car, I tried to relax, knowing I was on borrowed time with Grace. The baby had been lulled to sleep by the car ride, but as soon as she caught wind of the fact that she was no longer moving, she’d start fussing. The fussing would become crying, and then she might not look as adorable as she had a few minutes ago.
Grace fussed. I leaned back to check, and yes, she was now officially awake.
Grace’s grandmother scanned the park twice and glanced at her watch.
“Executive decision time.” I hopped out of my car and went to get Grace out of her car seat.
She hadn’t started full blown crying yet and stopped completely when I pulled her out of the car and she got a look at a tree. Possibly one of her favorite things in the world. Grace cooed and held her little arms out as if she had a prayer of reaching the limbs. Then she turned her head in the direction of children kicking a ball nearby.
“You’re about to see Grandma, little one.”
I would just calmly explain that Levi had sent me over because of a flight delay. I had plenty to talk about. As the nanny, I could tell her exactly how healthy Grace seemed to be. Mom’s baby bible implied Grace had hit every one of those so-called baby milestones on time or early. I would talk about what a great dad Levi was. I’d explain he just couldn’t be without his little girl.
It would be okay.
Carrying Grace in my arms, I approached the woman, who smiled when she saw Grace.
“It’s you,” the woman said. “Oh my goodness, it’s you!”
But something about the way her gaze stayed on me while talking to Grace was a little strange. “Hi, I’m Carly, the na—”
“Yes, I know exactly who you are!” She was staring from Grace to me with wide eyes.
I had no idea why she looked so thrilled and surprised, but I wasn’t going to argue. I smiled. “Do I know you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I stood. “I’m Irene Lane. Sandy’s stepmother. Grace’s grandmother.”
