Читать книгу Rainy Day Kisses - Debbie Macomber - Страница 8

Susannah Simmons blamed her sister, Emily, for this. As far as she was concerned, her weekend was going to be the nightmare on Western Avenue. Emily, a nineties version of the “earth mother,” had asked Susannah, the dedicated career woman, to babysit nine-month-old Michelle.

“Emily, I don’t think so.” Susannah had balked when her sister first phoned. What did she, a twenty-eight-year-old business executive, know about babies? The answer was simple—not much.

“I’m desperate.”

Her sister must have been to ask her. Everyone knew what Susannah was like around babies—not only Michelle, but infants in general. She just wasn’t the motherly type. Interest rates, negotiations, troubleshooting, staff motivation, these were her strong points. Not formula, teething and diapers.

It was nothing short of astonishing that the same two parents could have produced such completely different daughters. Emily baked her own oat-bran muffins, subscribed to Organic Gardening and hung her wash to dry on a clothesline—even in winter.

Susannah, on the other hand, wasn’t the least bit domestic and had no intention of ever cultivating the trait. She was too busy with her career to let such tedious tasks disrupt her corporate lifestyle. She was currently a director in charge of marketing for H&J Lima, the nation’s largest sporting goods company. The position occupied almost every minute of her time.

Susannah Simmons was a woman on the rise. Her name appeared regularly in trade journals as an up-and-coming achiever. None of that mattered to Emily, however, who needed a babysitter.

“You know I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t an emergency,” Emily had pleaded.

Susannah felt herself weakening. Emily was, after all, her younger sister. “Surely, there’s got to be someone better qualified.”

Emily had hesitated, then tearfully blurted, “I don’t know what I’ll do if you won’t take Michelle.” She began to sob pitifully. “Robert’s left me.”

“What?” If Emily hadn’t gained her full attention earlier, she did now. If her sister was an earth mother, then her brother-in-law, Robert Davidson, was Abraham Lincoln, as solid and upright as a thirty-foot oak. “I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true,” Emily wailed. “He…he claims I give Michelle all my attention and that I never have enough energy left to be a decent wife.” She paused to draw in a quavery breath. “I know he’s right…but being a good mother demands so much time and effort.”

“I thought Robert wanted six children.”

“He does…or did.” Emily’s sobbing began anew.

“Oh, Emily, it can’t be that bad,” Susannah had murmured in a soothing voice, thinking as fast as she could. “I’m sure you misunderstood Robert. He loves you and Michelle, and I’m positive he has no intention of leaving you.”

“He does,” Emily went on to explain between hiccuping sobs. “He asked me to find someone to look after Michelle for a while. He says we have to have some time to ourselves, or our marriage is dead.”

That sounded pretty drastic to Susannah.

“I swear to you, Susannah, I’ve called everyone who’s ever babysat Michelle before, but no one’s available. No one—not even for one night. When I told Robert I hadn’t found a sitter, he got so angry…and that’s not like Robert.”

Susannah agreed. The man was the salt of the earth. Not once in the five years she’d known him could she recall him even raising his voice.

“He told me that if I didn’t take this weekend trip to San Francisco with him he was going alone. I tried to find someone to watch Michelle,” Emily said. “I honestly tried, but there’s no one else, and now Robert’s home and he’s loading up the car and, Susannah, he’s serious. He’s going to leave without me and from the amount of luggage he’s taking, I don’t think he plans to come back.”

The tale of woe barely skimmed the surface of Susannah’s mind. The key word that planted itself in fertile ground was weekend. “I thought you said you only needed me for one night?” she asked.

At that point, Susannah should’ve realized she wasn’t much brighter than a brainless mouse, innocently nibbling away at the cheese in a steel trap.

Emily sniffled once more, probably for effect, Susannah mused darkly.

“We’ll be flying back to Seattle early Sunday afternoon. Robert’s got some business in San Francisco Saturday morning, but the rest of the weekend is free…and it’s been such a long time since we’ve been alone.”

“Two days and two nights,” Susannah said slowly, mentally tabulating the hours.

“Oh, please, Susannah, my whole marriage is at stake. You’ve always been such a good big sister. I know I don’t deserve anyone as good as you.”

Silently Susannah agreed.

“Somehow I’ll find a way to repay you,” Emily continued.

Susannah closed her eyes. Her sister’s idea of repaying her was usually freshly baked zucchini bread shortly after Susannah announced she was watching her weight.

“Susannah, please!”

It was then that Susannah had caved in to the pressure. “All right. Go ahead and bring Michelle over.”

Somewhere in the distance, she could’ve sworn she heard the echo of a mousetrap slamming shut.

By the time Emily and Robert had deposited their offspring at Susannah’s condominium, her head was swimming with instructions. After planting a kiss on her daughter’s rosy cheek, Emily handed the clinging Michelle to a reluctant Susannah.

That was when the nightmare began in earnest.

As soon as her sister left, Susannah could feel herself tense up. Even as a teenager, she hadn’t done a lot of babysitting; it wasn’t that she didn’t like children, but kids didn’t seem to take to her.

Holding the squalling infant on her hip, Susannah paced while her mind buzzed with everything she was supposed to remember. She knew what to do in case of diaper rash, colic and several other minor emergencies, but Emily hadn’t said one word about how to keep Michelle from crying.

“Shhh,” Susannah cooed, jiggling her niece against her hip. She swore the child had a cry that could’ve been heard a block away.

After the first five minutes, her calm cool composure began to crack under the pressure. She could be in real trouble here. The tenant agreement she’d signed specifically stated “no children.”

“Hello, Michelle, remember me?” Susannah asked, doing everything she could think of to quiet the baby. Didn’t the kid need to breathe? “I’m your auntie Susannah, the business executive.”

Her niece wasn’t impressed. Pausing only a few seconds to gulp for air, Michelle increased her volume and glared at the door as if she expected her mother to miraculously appear if she cried long and hard enough.

“Trust me, kid, if I knew a magic trick that’d bring your mother back, I’d use it now.”

Ten minutes. Emily had been gone a total of ten minutes. Susannah was seriously considering giving the state Children’s Protective Services a call and claiming that a stranger had abandoned a baby on her doorstep.

“Mommy will be home soon,” Susannah murmured wistfully.

Michelle screamed louder. Susannah started to worry about her stemware. The kid’s voice could shatter glass.

More tortured minutes passed, each one an eternity. Susannah was desperate enough to sing. Not knowing any appropriate lullabies, she began with a couple of ditties from her childhood, but quickly exhausted those. Michelle didn’t seem to appreciate them anyway. Since Susannah didn’t keep up with the current top twenty, the best she could do was an old Christmas favorite. Somehow singing “Jingle Bells” in the middle of September didn’t feel right.

“Michelle,” Susannah pleaded, willing to stand on her head if it would keep the baby from wailing, “your mommy will be back, I assure you.”

Michelle apparently didn’t believe her.

“How about if I buy municipal bonds and put them in your name?” Susannah tried next. “Tax-free bonds, Michelle! This is an offer you shouldn’t refuse. All you need to do is stop crying. Oh, please stop crying.”

Michelle wasn’t interested.

“All right,” Susannah cried, growing desperate. “I’ll sign over my Microsoft stock. That’s my final offer, so you’d better grab it while I’m in a generous mood.”

Michelle answered by gripping Susannah’s collar with both of her chubby fists and burying her wet face in a once spotless white silk blouse.

“You’re a tough nut to crack, Michelle Margaret Davidson,” Susannah muttered, gently patting her niece’s back as she paced. “You want blood, don’t you, kid? You aren’t going to be satisfied with anything less.”

A half hour after Emily had left, Susannah was ready to resort to tears herself. She’d started singing again, returning to her repertoire of Christmas songs. “You’d better watch out,/ you’d better not cry,/ Aunt Susannah’s here telling you why….”

She was just getting into the lyrics when someone knocked heavily on her door.

Like a thief caught in the act, Susannah whirled around, fully expecting the caller to be the building superintendent. No doubt there’d been complaints and he’d come to confront her.

Expelling a weary sigh, Susannah realized she was defenseless. The only option she had was to throw herself on his mercy. She squared her shoulders and walked across the lush carpet, prepared to do exactly that.

Only it wasn’t necessary. The building superintendent wasn’t the person standing on the other side of her door. It was her new neighbor, wearing a baseball cap and a faded T-shirt, and looking more than a little disgruntled.

“The crying and the baby I can take,” he said, crossing his arms and relaxing against the doorframe, “but your singing has got to go.”

“Very funny,” she grumbled.

“The kid’s obviously distressed.”

Susannah glared at him. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

“Do something.”

“I’m trying.” Apparently Michelle didn’t like this stranger any more than Susannah did because she buried her face in Susannah’s collar and rubbed it vigorously back and forth. That at least helped muffle her cries, but there was no telling what it would do to white silk. “I offered her my Microsoft stock and it didn’t do any good,” Susannah explained. “I was even willing to throw in my municipal bonds.”

“You offered her stocks and bonds, but did you suggest dinner?”

“Dinner?” Susannah echoed. She hadn’t thought of that. Emily claimed she’d fed Michelle, but Susannah vaguely remembered something about a bottle.

“The poor thing’s probably starving.”

“I think she’s supposed to have a bottle,” Susannah said. She turned and glanced at the assorted bags Emily and Robert had deposited in her condominium, along with the necessary baby furniture. From the number of things stacked on the floor, it must seem as if she’d been granted permanent guardianship. “There’s got to be one in all this paraphernalia.”

“I’ll find it—you keep the kid quiet.”

Susannah nearly laughed out loud. If she was able to keep Michelle quiet, he wouldn’t be here in the first place. She imagined she could convince CIA agents to hand over top-secret documents more easily than she could silence one distressed nine-month-old infant.

Without waiting for an invitation, her neighbor moved into the living room. He picked up one of the three overnight bags and rooted through that. He hesitated when he pulled out a stack of freshly laundered diapers, and glanced at Susannah. “I didn’t know anyone used cloth diapers anymore.”

“My sister doesn’t believe in anything disposable.”

“Smart woman.”

Susannah made no comment, and within a few seconds noted that he’d come across a plastic bottle. He removed the protective cap and handed the bottle to Susannah, who looked at it and blinked. “Shouldn’t the milk be heated?”

“It’s room temperature, and frankly, at this point I don’t think the kid’s going to care.”

He was right. The instant Susannah placed the rubber nipple in her niece’s mouth, Michelle grasped the bottle with both hands and sucked at it greedily.

For the first time since her mother had left, Michelle stopped crying. The silence was pure bliss. Susannah’s tension eased, and she released a sigh that went all the way through her body.

“You might want to sit down,” he suggested next.

Susannah did, and with Michelle cradled awkwardly in her arms, leaned against the back of the sofa, trying not to jostle her charge.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Her neighbor pushed the baseball cap farther back on his head, looking pleased with himself.

“Much better.” Susannah smiled shyly up at him. They hadn’t actually met, but she’d certainly noticed her new neighbor. As far as looks went, he was downright handsome. She supposed most women would find his mischievous blue eyes and dark good looks appealing. He was tanned, but she’d have wagered a month’s pay that his bronzed features weren’t the result of any machine. He obviously spent a great deal of time outdoors, which led her to the conclusion that he didn’t work. At least not in an office. And frankly, she doubted he was employed outside of one, either. The clothes he wore and the sporadic hours he kept had led her to speculate about him earlier. If he had money, which apparently he did or else he wouldn’t be living in this complex, then he’d inherited it.

“I think it’s time I introduced myself,” he said conversationally, sitting on the ottoman across from her. “I’m Nate Townsend.”

“Susannah Simmons,” she said. “I apologize for all the racket. My niece and I are just getting acquainted and—oh, boy—it’s going to be a long weekend, so bear with us.”

“You’re babysitting for the weekend?”

“Two days and two nights.” It sounded like a whole lifetime to Susannah. “My sister and her husband are off on a second honeymoon. Normally my parents would watch Michelle and love doing it, but they’re visiting friends in Florida.”

“It was kind of you to offer.”

Susannah thought it best to correct this impression. “Trust me, I didn’t volunteer. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not very maternal.”

“You’ve got to support her back a little more,” he said, watching Michelle.

Susannah tried, but it felt awkward to hold on to her niece and the bottle.

“You’re doing fine.”

“Sure,” Susannah muttered. She felt like someone with two left feet who’d been unexpectedly ushered onto center stage and told to perform the lead in Swan Lake.

“Relax, will you?” Nate encouraged.

“I told you already I’m not into this motherhood business,” she snapped. “If you think you can do better, you feed her.”

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

She wasn’t doing great at all, and she knew it, but this was as good as she got.

“When’s the last time you had anything to eat?” he asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You sound hungry to me.”

“Well, I’m not,” Susannah said irritably.

“I think you are, but don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.” He walked boldly into her kitchen and paused in front of the refrigerator. “Your mood will improve once you have something in your stomach.”

Shifting Michelle higher, Susannah stood and followed him. “You can’t just walk in here and—”

“I’ll say I can’t,” he murmured, his head inside her fridge. “Do you realize there’s nothing in here except an open box of baking soda and a jar full of pickle juice?”

“I eat out a lot,” Susannah said defensively.

“I can see that.”

Michelle had finished the bottle and made a slurping sound that prompted Susannah to remove the nipple from her mouth. The baby’s eyes were closed. Little wonder, Susannah thought. She was probably exhausted. Certainly Susannah was, and it was barely seven on Friday evening. The weekend was just beginning.

Setting the empty bottle on the kitchen counter, Susannah awkwardly lifted Michelle onto her shoulder and patted her back until she produced a tiny burp. Feeling a real sense of accomplishment, Susannah smiled proudly.

Nate chuckled and when Susannah glanced in his direction, she discovered him watching her, his grin warm and appraising. “You’re going to be fine.”

Flustered, Susannah lowered her gaze. She always disliked it when a man looked at her that way, examining her features and forming a judgment about her by the size of her nose, or the direction in which her eyebrows grew. Most men seemed to believe they’d been granted a rare gift of insight and could determine a woman’s entire character just by looking at her face. Unfortunately, Susannah’s was too austere by conventional standards to be classified as beautiful. Her eyes were deep-set and dark, her cheekbones high. Her nose came almost straight from her forehead and together with her full mouth made her look like a classic Greek sculpture. Not pretty, she thought. Interesting perhaps.

It was during Susannah’s beleaguered self-evaluation that Michelle stirred and started jabbering cheerfully, reaching one hand toward a strand of Susannah’s dark hair.

Without her realizing it, her chignon had come undone. Michelle had somehow managed to loosen the pins and now the long dark tresses fell haphazardly over Susannah’s shoulder. If there was one thing Susannah was meticulous about, and actually there were several, it was her appearance. She must look a rare sight, in an expensive business suit with a stained white blouse and her hair tumbling over her shoulder.

“Actually I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to introduce myself,” Nate said, leaning against the counter. “But after the first couple of times we saw each other, our paths didn’t seem to cross again.”

“I’ve been working a lot of overtime lately.” If the truth be known, Susannah almost always put in extra hours. Often she brought work home with her. She was dedicated, committed and hardworking. Her neighbor, however, didn’t seem to possess any of those qualities. She strongly suspected that everything in life had come much too easily for Nate Townsend. She’d never seen him without his baseball cap or his T-shirt. Somehow she doubted he even owned a suit. And if he did, it probably wouldn’t look right on him. Nate Townsend was definitely a football-jersey type of guy.

He seemed likable—friendly and outgoing—but from what she’d seen, he lacked ambition. Apparently there’d never been anything he’d wanted badly enough to really strive for.

“I’m glad we had the chance to introduce ourselves,” Susannah added, walking back into the living room and toward her front door. “I appreciate the help, but as you said, Michelle and I are going to be fine.”

“It didn’t sound that way when I arrived.”

“I was just getting my feet wet,” she returned, defending herself, “and why are you arguing with me? You’re the one who said I was doing all right.”

“I lied.”

“Why would you do that?”

Nate shrugged nonchalantly. “I thought a little self-confidence would do you good, so I offered it.”

Susannah glared at him, resenting his attitude. So much for the nice-guy-who-lives-next-door image she’d had of him. “I don’t need any favors from you.”

“You may not,” he agreed, “but unfortunately Michelle does. The poor kid was starving and you didn’t so much as suspect.”

“I would’ve figured it out.”

Nate gave her a look that seemed to cast doubt on her intelligence, and Susannah frowned right back. She opened the door with far more force than necessary and flipped her hair over her shoulder with flair a Paris model would have envied. “Thanks for stopping in,” she said stiffly, “but as you can see everything’s under control.”

“If you say so.” He grinned at her and without another word was gone.

Susannah banged the door shut with her hip, feeling a rush of satisfaction as she did so. She knew this was petty, but her neighbor had annoyed her in more ways than one.

Soon afterward Susannah heard the soft strains of an Italian opera drifting from Nate’s condominium. At least she thought it was Italian, which was unfortunate because that made her think of spaghetti and how hungry she actually was.

“Okay, Michelle,” she said, smiling down on her niece. “It’s time to feed your auntie.” Without too much trouble, Susannah assembled the high chair and set her niece in that while she scanned the contents of her freezer.

The best she could come up with was a frozen Mexican entrée. She gazed at the picture on the front of the package, shook her head and tossed it back inside the freezer.

Michelle seemed to approve and vigorously slapped the tray on her high chair.

Crossing her arms and leaning against the freezer door, Susannah paused. “Did you hear what he said?” she asked, still irate. “I guess he was right, but he didn’t have to be so superior about it.”

Michelle slapped her hands in approval once again. The music was muted by the thick walls, and wanting to hear a little more, Susannah cracked open the sliding glass door to her balcony, which was separated from Nate’s by a concrete partition. It bestowed privacy, but didn’t muffle the beautiful voices raised in triumphant song.

Susannah opened the glass door completely and stepped outside. The evening was cool, but pleasantly so. The sun had just started to set and had cast a wash of golden shadows over the picturesque waterfront.

“Michelle,” she muttered when she came back in, “he’s cooking something that smells like lasagna or spaghetti.” Her stomach growled and she returned to the freezer, taking out the same Mexican entrée she’d rejected earlier. It didn’t seem any more appetizing than it had the first time.

A faint scent of garlic wafted into her kitchen. Susannah turned her classic Greek nose in that direction, then followed the aroma to the open door like a puppet drawn there by a string. She sniffed loudly and turned eagerly back to her niece. “It’s definitely Italian, and it smells divine.”

Michelle pounded the tray again.

“It’s garlic bread,” Susannah announced and whirled around to face her niece, who clearly wasn’t impressed. But then, thought Susannah, she wouldn’t be. She’d eaten.

Under normal conditions, Susannah would’ve reached for her jacket and headed to Mama Mataloni’s, a fabulous Italian restaurant within easy walking distance. Unfortunately Mama Mataloni’s didn’t deliver.

Against her better judgment, Susannah stuck the frozen entrée into her microwave and set the timer. When there was another knock on her door, she stiffened and looked at Michelle as if the nine-month-old would sit up and tell Susannah who’d come by this time.

It was Nate again, holding a plate of spaghetti and a glass of red wine. “Did you fix yourself something to eat?” he asked.

For the life of her Susannah couldn’t tear her gaze away from the oversize plate, heaped high with steaming pasta smothered in a thick red sauce. Nothing had ever looked—or smelled—more appetizing. The fresh Parmesan cheese he’d grated over the top had melted onto the rich sauce. A generous slice of garlic bread was balanced on the side.

“I, ah, was just heating up a…microwave dinner.” She pointed behind her toward the kitchen as if that would explain what she was trying to say. Her tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of her mouth.

“I shouldn’t have acted like such a know-it-all earlier,” he said, pushing the plate toward her. “I’m bringing you a peace offering.”

“This…is for me?” She raised her eyes from the plate, wondering if he knew how hungry she felt and was toying with her.

He handed her the meal and the wine. “The sauce has been simmering most of the afternoon. I like to pretend I’m a bit of a gourmet chef. Every once in a while I get creative in the kitchen.”

“How…nice.” She conjured up a picture of Nate standing in his kitchen stirring sauce while the rest of the world struggled to make a living. Her attitude wasn’t at all gracious and she mentally apologized. Without further ado, she marched into her kitchen, reached for a fork and plopped herself down at the table. She might as well eat this feast while it was hot!

One sample told her everything she needed to know. “This is great.” She took another bite, pointed her fork in his direction and rolled her eyes. “Marvelous. Wonderful.”

Nate pulled a bread stick out of his shirt pocket and gave it to Michelle. “Here’s looking at you, kid.”

As Michelle chewed contentedly on the bread stick, Nate pulled out a chair and sat across from Susannah, who was too busy enjoying her dinner to notice anything out of the ordinary until Nate’s eyes narrowed.

“What’s wrong?” Susannah asked. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and sampled the wine.

“I smell something.”

Judging by his expression, whatever it was apparently wasn’t pleasant. “It might be the microwave dinner,” she suggested hopefully, already knowing better.

“I’m afraid not.”

Susannah carefully set the fork beside her plate as uneasiness settled over her.

“It seems,” Nate said, covering his nose with one hand, “that someone needs to change Michelle’s diaper.”