male ever set foot in a store unless he had to. Then they bought jeans, underwear, socks and shirts by the dozens, so they wouldn’t have to repeat the traumatic experience for another year. When it came to gifts, they were top-of-the-line catalog shoppers.
“Shopping for what?” she asked.
“Baby supplies.”
“We have plenty of formula and diapers,” she argued. “Lizzy and Justin’s wife have passed along some hand-me-down baby clothes.”
“They’re all blue,” he noted. “That’s all wrong for our girl. She needs, I don’t know, maybe something pink and frilly.”
Unwilling to admit just how tempted she was, Sharon Lynn regarded him with amusement. “You want to go shopping for pink and frilly girl clothes?”
He turned and scowled as if she’d questioned his manhood. “You have a problem with that?”
She swallowed the laugh that was threatening to bubble up and shook her head. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
“I thought women loved to shop,” he grumbled.
“We do. It’s men who get all antsy at the mention of spending more than ten minutes in anything other than a sporting goods store.”
“Where’s the nearest mall?” he asked, as if the question alone were proof that he wasn’t like other men.
“Garden City.”
“How far?”
“Thirty miles.”
“Close enough.” He shoved a plate piled high with pancakes in front of her. “You game?”
He sounded so grimly determined to challenge her, she couldn’t help nodding her acquiescence. “Sure.” She hesitated, then added, “We can’t go overboard.”
“I’m not talking about buying out the stores, just getting a few things she really needs.”
“Okay, then.”
By four o’clock, with the baby ensconced in her new top-of-the-line stroller and Cord weighed down with more packages than Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve, Sharon Lynn insisted enough was enough.
“I have to rest. There is not a single store left in this mall that we haven’t been in,” she complained. “I need something to drink. I need food. I need to get off my feet.”
Cord grinned at her. “Can’t take it, huh?”
“The only person I know who shops with more enthusiasm and endurance is my aunt Jenny, but she got her start as a kid in New York. Bloomingdale’s was her idea of a corner market. That was before she and her mom moved here and Janet married Grandpa Harlan. Jenny could keep up with you. I can’t.”
“Next time, maybe I’ll invite her.”
He sounded serious enough that Sharon Lynn felt a sharp pang of jealousy, before reminding herself that Jenny was happily married and therefore completely unavailable for anything more than shopping with Cord Branson. She glanced over to find Cord grinning broadly as if he’d read her mind.
“Don’t even go there,” she muttered.
“Go where?” he inquired innocently. “I thought we were going to the food court.”
She weighed another sharp retort, then wisely swallowed it. Cord followed along as she steered the stroller to the cluster of fast-food outlets where she collapsed into the first available chair. Cord deposited the packages beside her.
“Okay, sweetheart, what can I get you to put some color back in your cheeks and wipe that scowl off your face?”
“A transfusion, maybe.”
“Sorry, this place is a little short on those. How about a burger, fries and a soda?”
“Sounds too much like what I could fix for myself at Dolan’s. I think maybe a dozen tacos, some guacamole, the hottest salsa they have and a chocolate milk shake.”
Cord stared at her and shuddered. “Mexican food and a milk shake?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“It’s your call. You serious about that dozen tacos?”
She considered the question, then said, “I suppose two would do for a start. We’ll see how I feel after that.”
When he was gone, she glanced into the stroller and grinned at the baby, who was wearing her new frilly pink bonnet that was about as practical on a cold winter day as sandals would be. Her little fists clutched the brim as if she couldn’t quite decide whether to tug it on tighter or rip it off.
Every single passerby gazed into the stroller and grinned at the sight. More than a few stopped to comment on her beautiful baby girl. Rather than correct them, Sharon Lynn merely murmured her thanks, but her reaction was worrisome. She felt a maternal stirring of pride, along with a deepening of the wistfulness that was constantly with her these days.
When Cord came back with the food, he studied her intently. “Something wrong? I mean something other than low blood sugar?”
“No, not really.”
Just then another woman bent down to smile at Ashley, then turned to Cord. “Your daughter is just precious.