Heatherly Bell - This Baby Business

Carly’s laptop rang. “Shh.”

She picked Grace up by the car seat handle and carried the seat closer to her office—otherwise known as the kitchen table. She settled Grace on the floor near the entrance of the kitchen and flew to the laptop to stop the ringing before it woke her up.

“Hello? Carly?” Jill, her other best friend, had taken to Skyping Carly from locations on the outskirts of town. The reception wasn’t always the best.

Carly sat and turned to face the laptop camera. “I’m here.”

“What’s with your hair today?” Jill looked sideways through the screen.

Crap, was that what she looked like? And she’d answered the door to Mr. Hunk like this?

“I’ve had a rough morning.” Carly smoothed her hair down into place and reached for her hair clip.

She hadn’t even dressed. Last night she’d gone through the closet full of eBay fashion steals she’d accumulated over the years and set out her clothes for the next morning. She’d done that ritual every day for years. Her ribbed sweetheart-neck Urban Outfitters minidress paired with a cropped denim jacket and her Marc Jacobs Chelsea booties had been all ready for her this morning. But she’d taken one look at the supercute outfit and didn’t have the energy. What for, when she would be sitting in front of a laptop most of the day?

Jill’s face moved away from the screen and scanned her outdoor surroundings. “This could be the perfect location. It’s even got a little boat dock by the lake. Sure, it needs a little work, but the owner is motivated.”

A little work? Carly squinted. The boat dock seemed to be a wooden plank.

“Maybe you should keep looking.”

“I’m meeting with the owner later today. It couldn’t hurt. I hear they’re desperate.”

Sounded familiar.

Soon both of her best friends would be firmly entrenched in pursuing their lofty dreams. Jill with her long-held dream to restore an outdated inn, and Zoey as the owner and operator of Pimp Your Pet. They were both moving forward with their lives and dreams, while Carly was stuck. RockYourBaby.com was definitely not the best use of her fashion design degree.

She would never be able to move on to her own future if she didn’t sell and get out from under RockYourBaby.com. But they kept losing sponsors, the real bread and butter of her mom’s company. Carly feared she had a tiny authenticity problem. Namely, the entire RockYourBaby brand was now a bald-faced lie. She was at the helm of a company with a brand that was trusted and regarded for baby knowledge.

Ideally, she needed to create an image that would resonate with the RockYourBaby audience. Then they might be able to sell to a larger company. Carly had already decided she’d give most of her share of the money from the sale to Kirk, to help care for their father. Their dad, Jerry, needed almost constant care these days. Therapy and medications were not cheap, and health insurance helped with only a small part of it. The sooner she could get this company’s value up and sold, the quicker her father could get adequate care.

No pressure.

“I say you keep looking.”

Grace squirmed. She opened up wide blue eyes and blinked a couple of times. Uh-oh. The thing was awake now.

Jill’s face appeared on the monitor again. “And how are you doing? What did your mom’s accountant suggest?”

Carly didn’t want to talk about it. Patsy had suggested it was all a matter of perception and it occurred at every major firm when there was a change at the helm. RockYourBaby.com was simply no longer relevant.

Ouch.

Still, the suggestion was that though they’d lost some footing in the market, recovery was feasible. Her mother had created a solid brand. In other words, all was not lost. Yet.

Grace let out a piercing wail, and Carly stood and walked out of the camera’s view to unbuckle the baby from her seat. She picked her up carefully, like she was fine china, and carried her to the table slowly so neither one of them would fall.

“What was that?” Jill was saying. “Did you get a cat?”

“Sorry.” Carly propped Grace on her lap and resumed the Skype chat.

Jill stared, jaw dropped. “Um? Care to explain? What are you doing with a baby?”

“Oh, this is my neighbor’s baby. Grace. His sitter cancelled last minute, so he came over and begged me to watch her for a day. Can you believe it? He doesn’t even know me. Rookie dad.”

“What are you thinking, offering to babysit? Like you don’t have enough to do.”

“First, I didn’t offer. He asked. And I’ll be able to finish my blog post with some real honest research and not just the Watch-Me-Tinkle baby doll.”

“This is not your brightest idea. You should stick with the dolls.”

“That’s not real research. I need to own this baby-expert thing.”

“Well, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but that baby is about to blow. She’s puckering up for a good, loud scream.”

Carly turned Grace so she could see her face. Sure enough, she had a stiff bottom lip and her tiny, angelic sleeping face had turned a frightening shade of mauve. She took one look at Carly and out came an earsplitting wail.

“Oh, no!” Carly stood up with her. “How did you know?”

“I worked as an au pair the year I lived abroad,” Jill shouted. “I don’t remember much, but I know that look.”

“What do I do now? Help me!”

“In order to really help, I’d have to rewind to the minute you agreed to help Hot Dad out!”

“How do you know he’s hot?” Carly swayed and rocked with Grace on her hip. She didn’t know if that would help, but it felt like the right thing to do.

“Just a guess.”

Grace continued to screech, a wild and guttural sound that scared Carly. Grace’s mouth was wide-open, so Carly could see down to her tonsils, and she was sure they were vibrating. Was that even normal? What if she was hurt? She’d never forgive herself!

“Okay. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.”

“No! Wait.” Carly danced back to her monitor. “Are vibrating tonsils a thing?”

“I can’t hear you.” And then Jill, Carly’s one connection to the outside world, was gone.

Gah!

Carly searched through Levi’s diaper bag one-handed, silently praying he wasn’t one of those parents that thought pacifiers were the devil. She found one, thank God, and stuck it in Grace’s mouth. She promptly spit it out.

Why did Grace have to be one of the babies who didn’t like pacifiers?

“Please stop crying, little baby. Oh, please.” Carly danced around the kitchen, but that did absolutely nothing except perhaps burn a few extra calories. “Maybe you’re hungry. Yes! Why didn’t I think of that?”

How could such a little thing let out a scream worthy of the lead singer in a hard-core metal band? How could her lungs be big enough?

Carly reached for a baby bottle from the fridge. Let’s see. She remembered reading about this in her mother’s baby bible before she’d done a blog post on “Bottle or Breast? Which Way Is Best?” Of course, in a million years she hadn’t implied that a mother should do it one way or another. No idiot, just like Mom, Carly vowed to stay clear of titty politics. She’d simply listed options. The bottle way was to warm one in a pan of hot water. No microwaves!

Time slowed to a snail’s pace as she filled a pan of water and waited for it to simmer, then stuck the bottle in, while simultaneously holding a baby who was screaming so loudly Carly wondered if she’d ever regain her hearing in the left ear. She did all of this while dancing and swaying and begging. But Grace seemed immune to all the begging.

“You looked so sweet and innocent when you were asleep,” Carly said, near tears herself. “Your daddy fooled me.”