Charlotte Maclay - Montana Twins

From the back of the store, a woman appeared. She wore a blue butcher’s apron over a print dress and had one of those faces that was best described as having character. Laura guessed a line had been etched for each of the seventy-something years she had lived in Montana.

“Afternoon, Eric. Bet you’ve run out of frozen dinners again and don’t want to eat at—” Her eye caught the baby in his arms, and she halted abruptly. “My sakes, look at what you’ve got. Isn’t she the cutest little thing.”

Laura winced as the woman chucked Rebecca under the chin. She’d been told by the doctor that the twins’ immune system might not be as strong as those of a higher birth-weight baby, and she hated to take the twins around strangers.

“Excuse me,” Laura said. “The babies are—”

“Hetty, I’d like you to meet Laura Cavendish. Hetty Moore and her husband, Joe, own the store.”

Laura smiled politely, but before she could prevent it, Hetty had zeroed in on Mandy’s rosy cheek, giving the baby a grandmotherly pinch.

“Twins…” she crooned. “You’ve been keeping secrets from us, Eric. Shame on you. These little bundles are too precious to hide. And their mamma, too. Such a pretty girl.”

“I didn’t know about them till yesterday, Hetty.”

“He’s their uncle,” Laura tried to explain.

Hetty’s eyes widened and she gasped. “You mean Walker has been—surely not Rory. Why, they’re only just married, the both of them. I can’t think what gets into a man’s head these days. My Joe and me—”

“Hetty! It’s not what you think. This has nothing to do with my brothers.”

She huffed. “I should hope not.”

Eric rolled his eyes, and Laura stifled a smile. The good folks of Grass Valley had a tendency to jump to conclusions. Explaining the situation would likely take hours, and there wasn’t that much time before the store closed.

“Eric was hoping to buy a small chest of drawers to put the twins’ things in,” Laura said.

“With two new babies to manage, you’ll be needing a lot more than one chest of drawers.” On a mission now, Hetty bustled down the aisle toward the back of the store.

“They may not be staying that long,” Laura called, hurrying after her.

“Now, honey, you don’t have to play coy with me, giving me some wild story about young Eric being the twins’ uncle. If he’s their daddy, you have to give him a chance to make up for whatever he did that upset you. I’m sure you two can work out your differences.”

“We might as well give it up for now,” Eric muttered only loud enough for Laura to hear. “Once Hetty gets something in her head, it sticks there like Super Glue, even if it’s wrong.”

“I don’t want people to think you and I—”

“They won’t. Not for long.”

Just what did that mean? Was he going to take out an ad in the local paper, assuming there was one, to explain the situation? Or was it simply too obvious the handsome town sheriff wouldn’t be caught dead with someone like her? Not that she was a dog. But she certainly wasn’t model thin. Nor had she ever been considered sexy. Men had never fallen all over themselves to ask her out. And the few who had soon lost interest, either because she knew more about history and government than they did, or because she couldn’t give birth to the offspring their egos demanded a woman produce.

“Now here’s a nice one.” Hetty scooped a display of American flags and red, white and blue bunting off the top of a five-foot high honey-oak chest of drawers. “Conrad Gelb’s a true craftsman. I’m sure he’d make up another one just like this if—”

“It’s too tall,” Laura said. “I’m going to use it for a changing table while I’m here.”

“He could make you one of those, too, if you want.”

“We aren’t a hundred percent sure the babies will be staying—”

“I’m sure.” Juggling Rebecca in one arm, Eric lifted the edge of a dust cover from a similar oak piece that was about waist high and had three drawers. “How about this one?”

Laura nodded. “That would work fine.”

“Won’t hold but a teaspoon’s worth of baby clothes,” Hetty warned.

“We’ll take it.” Eric glanced around the store. “How ’bout those swing things babies like?”

To Laura’s dismay, and frequently over her objections, Eric went on a shopping spree that would have made most women envious. It made Laura uneasy. She didn’t like the thought of anyone wasting money. And she didn’t like the idea that Eric was so determined to provide everything possible the twins could want or need. In the long run, that attitude wouldn’t be healthy for the twins.

Short term, it would make it all the harder to put the babies back in her car and take them away from Eric.

Finally running out of steam, Eric handed Rebecca off to Hetty, who cuddled, cooed and happily pinched the baby’s cheeks.

Joe Moore, Hetty’s big, burly husband, who looked nothing like a storekeeper, was called from the back room to help carry the purchases out to the car.

Laura had the distinct feeling she and the babies had been dropped into the middle of a fast-moving stream at flood stage and were being carried along by the current. A helpless feeling and inherently dangerous.

ERIC PLACED the oversize teddy bear near the crib, fluffed its polka-dot bow and stepped back to admire his work. He’d brought everything up from the car. The low chest of drawers was in place across from the windows. The wind-up, jumping-rocking swing was at the closet end of the room right next to an oak rocking chair. Hetty had told him all moms needed a rocking chair.

A dad would, too, he reasoned, smiling. Yep, he’d done all right for his first day as a father.

The cry of a baby preceded Laura’s arrival in the nursery, one of the twins in her arms. He couldn’t tell them apart yet but he would soon enough.

She handed him the baby. “Mandy needs a change.”

“You want me to do it?”

“It comes with the territory, Sheriff. Spending money does not a father make.”

“I know that,” he mumbled. “It’s just that I haven’t ever—”

“Changed a diaper. I suspected as much. It’s time for your first lesson.”

“Maybe I ought to watch first.”

“Hands-on is the best way to learn, and Becky dozed off after her bottle, so this is a good time. Unless you’d like to wait until they’re both fussing.”

“You have a vindictive streak, don’t you?” He carried Mandy to the dresser and laid her on the thick pad he’d bought for this very purpose. He should have known Laura would make him initiate the darn thing.

Laura’s smile was all too smug. “Possibly.”

Almost immediately, Mandy began to fuss and kick her little legs.

“Hold still, Twinkle-Toes.” He managed to un-snap the legs on the pink-and-white sleeper but had trouble getting the toes unhooked. “Hey, Sweet Cheeks, how ’bout a little cooperation for your old man?”

Mandy’s crying increased in volume.

Eric began to sweat. “Feel free to help out anytime you feel like it.”

“You’re doing fine.”

Like hell! A little more struggling and he got one foot out. The second came easier. He gave Laura a grim smile of accomplishment. “Now what?”

“Take the old diaper off, use a wipe and put on some lotion so she doesn’t get a rash.”

It all sounded so easy the way she rattled off the instructions.

By bending Mandy’s legs over the top of her head, he got the old diaper off. He needed a third hand to reach the new diaper, and by the time he got that more or less in place, he realized he hadn’t done the wipe and lotion part. So he started again.

By now Mandy was pretty frantic, little sobs lifting her chest.