Santa's Seven-Day Baby Tutorial. Meg Maxwell

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СКАЧАТЬ thought with a smile. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to cover the cage from prying eyes.”

      He nodded and she found a large cloth. “Merry Christmas, sweet Sparkles,” she said to the critter, then covered the cage. He took it in his right hand, gave her something of a smile and then held the cage in front of him as he walked to his car. She stood in the doorway of the barn, watching him go. Wishing he could stay. He quickly put the cage in the back, then glanced toward her and held up a hand.

      She held up hers. Then he got inside and drove back up the dirt road, leaving her strangely bereft.

      Any moment now, her entire village would descend on her, curious about what the Englisher wanted with them. She would say it had to do with a missing pet and she’d explain that none of the villagers was missing a pet. Not the truth, exactly, but not a lie.

      She watched the agent’s car disappear up the long drive, then she closed her eyes to commit everything about him to memory.

      * * *

      After dropping off Sparkles with the boss’s relieved wife, Colt was officially on vacation. The muscles in his shoulders relaxed just a bit. He stood in front of the world map in his living room and tried to settle on a destination. Europe? Asia? Stick closer to home? Someplace warm like the Florida Keys, maybe.

      He couldn’t decide because he was distracted. And not by the last case or the deceitful woman who’d managed to con him.

      But by Anna Miller. The Amish woman. Her inquisitive pale brown eyes and pink-red lips, which were unadorned. The long blond braid that fell down past her shoulders almost to her waist. Her curiosity. The way she’d listened so intently.

      His intercom system buzzed, jarring him out of his thoughts. His doorman informed him his sister and her husband were on their way up. That was weird. Cathy and Chris lived just a few miles away and weren’t the “stop by” kind of people. The parents of seven-month-old twins, they were regimented to a fault—they planned, made lists and scheduled their lives around sleep times.

      The doorbell rang and he opened the door; his sister wheeled in the twins in their double stroller, while her husband carried a small suitcase and a huge tote bag. The two of them looked harried. Thirty-year-old Cathy seemed on the verge of tears, and Chris looked exhausted, like he’d been up all night with babies. Probably had been.

      “Remember when we spoke this morning, you mentioned you hadn’t picked a vacation destination yet and had no tickets booked anywhere?” Cathy asked, a small glob of what looked and smelled like peach puree on her shoulder.

      He narrowed his eyes at her. “I remember.”

      “Our nanny just canceled on us!” Cathy said, tears glistening in her eyes. “She had the dates of our cruise wrong and now she can’t watch the twins for the week. She’s wonderful—not just a neighbor we’ve known for years, but a loving, fun grandmother with so much experience.”

      Oh, God. He was beginning to see where this was going.

      “We haven’t been away from the boys in seven months,” Cathy said. “The cruise is our Christmas present to each other and we board in three hours. We’ll have to cancel unless...”

      He stared at Cathy. He stared at Chris.

      No. No, no. This couldn’t be happening. He loved his nephews, but his experience at babysitting had been limited to an hour here and there while visiting so his sister could get some treadmill time or watch a TV show and his brother-in-law could tinker with his car. Watching the twins in their family room, all baby-proofed and set up with foam pads and crawling areas and toys, when their parents were screaming distance away, was a piece of cake.

      But Cathy was asking him to babysit two seven-month-olds for an entire week.

      It was almost funny.

      “Pleeeease,” Cathy begged.

      “Please. God, please,” his brother-in-law added.

      Colt’s stomach twisted. He glanced at Noah on the left side of the stroller. The very cute tyke was chewing some kind of cloth-like book with pictures of monkeys. Nathaniel, equally adorable on the right, was picking up what looked like Cheerios from the tray table and examining them. He flung one and giggled.

      Cathy stepped in front of the stroller, blocking them and their criminal ways. “It’s just seven days, Colt. You’ll still have a solid week left of your vacation to recuperate.”

      Just seven days. Just seven days?

      “Merry Christmas?” his sister said, pleading with her eyes. He had a mental montage of all the times his sister had been there for him from the time they were little. She and her husband needed a break, he had the time and so that was that.

      “Merry Christmas,” Colt said on a sigh.

      The relief on his brother-in-law’s face almost made Colt smile. Chris dropped the suitcase and tote on the floor near the stroller and gave his shoulder a good rotation.

      “We left the car seats in the lobby with the doorman,” Cathy said. “And everything else you need is in there,” she added, pointing to the bags. “Plus their schedule and all the pertinent information. They’re fed, changed and ready for a nap, so at least your vacation will start sort of restfully.” She spent a good five minutes going over what to do in an emergency, which was also detailed in a list in the tote bag. Finally, she threw her arms around him. “I owe you,” she added, then she and Chris booked out before Colt could even say “bon voyage.”

      “Well, guys,” Colt said to the twins, one still chewing his book, one now alternating between eating his Cheerios and throwing them. “It’s just the three of us. For a week.”

      He could handle this. He was thirty-two years old. He was an FBI agent with ten years’ experience under his belt. He’d taken down ruthless criminals. He’d found a missing guinea pig in record time. He could take care of two cute babies, his own nephews, for a week.

      Noah, older by one and a half minutes, started fussing, his face crumbling into a combination of discomfort and rage. Uh-oh. He flung his little book and started wiggling his arms. Colt unbuckled his harness and took him out of the stroller, praying the tyke would smell like his usual baby shampoo and baby lotion, and not like a baby who needed to be changed.

      He hoisted Noah in his arms and the baby squeezed his chin. “Good grip, kid,” he said, trying to sound soothing, the way his brother-in-law always did. He bounced Noah a bit and the baby seemed to like that. He visited his nephews once a month or so, dropping by with little gifts, but never stayed very long. He really had no idea how to take care of a baby, let alone two, but he could follow directions.

      He carefully kneeled down with Noah in one arm to open the tote bag. He saw bottles and formula and diapers and ointment and pacifiers and teething toys and little stuffed animals. In the suitcase was clothing and blankets. He found the schedule, which was a mile long. Lots of baby lingo. This wasn’t going to be easy.

      He pulled out his phone and called his sister. “Cathy, I’ve got the schedule in my hand. Are you sure I can do this?”

      “Absolutely,” his sister said with conviction. “Don’t worry, Colt. If you’re confused, just remember that they’ll tell you what they need.”

      “Um, СКАЧАТЬ