He grinned. “So you’re staying now? I take it you trust me now a little?”
“Well, I’m kind of hungry.” She returned his smile and realized it had been a long time since she’d smiled. Her entire career was about being serious, a determined and stubborn bobcat in the courtroom and a moneymaker for the office. She’d risen quickly at Veritas Law based on that reputation, and had won several multimillion-dollar judgments and settlements against major corporations.
Her latest case, though, was more personal. A chance meeting with a man who was working nights as a janitor in the building revealed an injury that had nearly cost him everything. Jerry Higgins used to be a machine operator in a cannery, until a new piece of equipment with a faulty release switch had crushed his arm. The equipment manufacturer refused to cover Jerry’s medical bills after the cannery’s insurance company decided the equipment was at fault, not the cannery, which had left Jerry bankrupt. It was a step outside the usual lawsuits she worked, where one behemoth sued another, but it was also the first case she’d had in a long time that made her feel good.
Ever since she’d met Jerry, Vivian had slept, ate and lived that lawsuit. Even now, she could feel the need to get back to work. To finish that brief she needed to file, and schedule the next few depositions. Jerry, his wife and his children were counting on her to make it right.
Then she glanced over at Ellie, so innocent, so helpless in that wicker basket, and knew she couldn’t go anywhere, at least not until she figured something out for her niece. Vivian might not be mommy material, but she was going to make sure Ellie was cared for. She’d need to call the office day care program and figure out a way to live amid the current chaos of her apartment before she tracked Sammie down. Right now, on top of her already unwieldy and bloated to-do list, “calling the day care” seemed like a Herculean task.
And besides, it was Sunday. She had only a few hours before the clock ticked over to Monday and her life got crazy again. But first, there was dinner with this man who seemed calm and strong, two things Viv wasn’t feeling at all. Surely she had enough time to eat.
“I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in…forever,” Vivian said. “My apartment is under construction right now, not that I ever get in the kitchen and cook. So whatever you were making sounds good to me.”
“Well then let me show you what you’ve been missing.” Nick got to his feet and started pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator and a paper bag on the counter. Just then, Ellie started to cry, her fists rising above the blanket and waving in the air. The cries pierced the quiet of the kitchen, demanding, insistent.
Vivian rose and paced the small kitchen. Ellie kept on crying. “Uh, what’s wrong with her?”
Nick looked as clueless as Vivian felt. “I don’t know. She probably needs a diaper change or some food or something,” he said. “Do you have any of that?”
Vivian gave him an are-you-kidding-me look. “Yeah. I have all of that in my briefcase in the car. Of course I don’t have any of that stuff. I’m not a mom, and Sammie didn’t send me a grocery list when she texted me. She just said Ellie was here and she had left.”
And Vivian had come running, as always. Bailing Sammie out. Again.
“Didn’t she have one of those bag things?”
Vivian brightened. “She did have a shopping bag with some formula and a couple diapers. Let me see what she left behind.” She ran upstairs and returned a moment later with the nearly empty bag. “One diaper and a mostly empty can of formula. I’m no expert, but that doesn’t seem like enough.” She sighed. Once again, Sammie had left her older sister to pick up the pieces.
“I know someone who might have some extra baby stuff.” Nick picked up his cell and dialed a number. He tucked the phone against his shoulder, started chopping some onions and gestured to Vivian to pick up the baby, whose cry had turned into a wail. “Hey, Mac, it’s Nick Jackson. I was wondering if you had some diapers and what do you call it…?”
Damned if Vivian knew. She stood beside the table, hesitant, while Ellie kept on crying. Pick up the baby? What if she did it wrong? What if that only made the crying—which was reaching police siren levels—worse?
Vivian tried tucking the blanket tighter—wasn’t there something about burritoing a baby that soothed them?—and it didn’t work. She tried sh-sh-shushing Ellie, and the cries only got louder and stronger.
Nick put a finger in one ear. “Yeah, formula. Bottles. Whatever a…” He turned and raised a questioning eyebrow in Vivian’s direction.
“Three-month-old,” she reminded him. That answer she had, but not much else. Ask her stats—born at three twenty in the morning, six pounds, three ounces, twenty inches long—and she could fill in the blanks. But quiz her on what age a baby started real food or how to change a diaper, and she’d fail in an instant.
The closest she’d gotten to Ellie before this minute was admiring her as Sammie held her. And that was as close as Vivian had intended to get. Until Sammie screwed up again.
“…a three-month-old baby. No, not mine, Mac. It’s a long story.” Nick paused a minute, then gave Vivian another pick-up-the-baby nod. “Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it.” He hung up and tucked the phone in his pocket. “Mac will be by in a little while.”
“Mac?” Ellie kept on crying. Vivian kept on standing there, hesitating.
What was wrong with her? If this had been a court case, she wouldn’t have paused for a breath. But then, in a courtroom, she always knew exactly what to do. In those wooden rooms, Vivian was at home. While Nick’s comfort zone was the kitchen, hers was in that space between the judge’s bench and the plaintiff’s table. She could deliver a one-hour closing summary to a jury of twelve strangers, but when it came to a single three-month-old…
Well, that was different.
“Della Barlow’s son. Della’s the co-owner of this place, along with Mavis—you haven’t met Della because she’s on vacation right now.” Nick walked past her, picked up Ellie and swung her against his chest, as if he did this every day. A second later, Ellie plopped her thumb in her mouth and her cries dropped to whimpers.
Vivian decided to act as if a strange man calming her niece was not at all unusual. Except a part of Viv felt like a failure. Weren’t aunts supposed to be able to handle this kind of thing?
“The Barlows are a great family, in case you’re worried. I’ve been the chef at the inn for about a month now, and I’ve met all of them.” Nick had started swaying, a movement that seemed unconscious, and Ellie’s eyes began to shut.
“Really?” Vivian felt a little jealous of her niece. Right now, Vivian was in that odd place between uncomfortable and unconfident, and could sure use someone else to soothe her own worries.
“You’re so good with her,” Vivian said.
“This is about the extent of my parenting abilities. So don’t ask me to change a diaper or make a bottle.” He chuckled.
If he asked her how to do either of those things, she wouldn’t have an answer either. So she changed the subject. “So what are you making me for dinner, Chef Nick?”
“Braised chicken with cherry tomatoes and artichokes.” He kept on swaying with Ellie.
“That sounds amazing. You made the eggs benedict we had this morning, right? Those were incredible. Most of the time I’m eating popcorn or a sandwich grabbed on the run.”
“That’s no way to live. I think food is one of the greatest pleasures in life.”
The way he said that made her a little weak in the knees.