about to complicate that with wine, especially with my kids on board.”
“Perfectly understandable. Should we roll the ball around for a while?” Maxie asked.
“No,” Nora said firmly. “We’re doing the dishes before Fay starts to fuss. Then I have to get the ladies home for baths and bed. I start early in the morning.”
On cue, Fay wriggled in her booster chair, raising her arms and bowing her back, and sent up a loud whine.
“Oh, no, she wants a bottle. It’s time… I have one ready… Save the dishes, Maxie, until I can give her a bottle. I try to hold her for it as often as I can… .”
“I’ll do the bottle,” Tom said. And then he thought, I am going to lose my man card here. This is not what I want.
“Are you sure?” Nora asked.
“Sure. Be happy to,” he said.
“All righty. Let me get her cleaned up.” And Nora went after the little tyke’s face and head and hands with a wet paper towel. She undid the safety belt on the booster chair and handed her to Tom. “Get comfortable. I’ll bring you the bottle and the blanket.”
Not quite sure what those instructions meant, Tom carried the tot to the living room and chose Maxie’s favorite chair, a swivel rocker-recliner, which gave him a view to the kitchen. Nora was right behind him with the gear—bottle and blanket. Fay reached for them with an irritated eh eh eh eh. Then, holding her own bottle and soft blanket, she reclined into the crook of Tom’s arm and sucked away.
He looked into the kitchen where there was much going on. Berry was standing on a step stool between Maxie and Nora, mostly splashing while they chattered like they’d known each other since birth. And wonder of wonders, Berry not only talked as much, she was loud. Nothing like on the back steps where she was shy and quiet, but loud and extremely verbal. She addressed both Maxie and her mother, turning her head and looking up at one, then the other.
They rinsed, washed, dried and put away. Although Maxie had a dishwasher, she preferred not to use it unless the cleanup was major. She said the warm water was soothing on her arthritic hands.
He looked down at Fay, who was gazing up at him. The drowsy-eyed contentment momentarily filled him with a deep sense of satisfaction and adoration, as if he’d done something other than volunteer for a job he didn’t know he wanted. When she caught him looking at her, she smiled around the bottle’s nipple. He smiled back, and then her eyes drifted closed. They opened, closed, opened, closed. Finally, with just a couple of ounces left, she was gonzo. And because he’d been a little insane all evening, he lowered his lips to her head and gave it a kiss.
“I knew that would happen,” Nora said.
He was stricken. Had he done something bad?
“That last bottle of the day after a full tummy knocks her out. It’s a race to get the bath in before she crashes. Here, I’ll take her.”
“You’re going to take her?” he asked.
“Home, Tom. She needs to go to bed.”
“What about her bath?”
“You know what? A kid can live by missing a bath one day but you don’t want to skip things like food and cuddling.”
“She has spaghetti sauce in her hair and behind her ear.”
“Yeah, I might give her a little spit and polish when I change her and put her in her pajamas. Not that a little red sauce will hurt her, but I don’t want Adie trying to bathe her and don’t want the day care to think I’m negligent. Here,” she said, holding out her hands.
“I can carry her to the car,” he offered. “Is the other one ready to go?”
“Yes, wearing as much dishwater as went down the drain,” Nora said. She crouched and ran a gentle finger around Fay’s ear. “There is nothing more precious, is there? Thanks for everything, Tom. The whole afternoon and evening—it was terrific. Someday I hope I’ll be able to invite you and your family to my table.”
The soft look in her eyes was so tender and sentimental he could feel it reach way down inside of him. To cover the discomfort of such emotion, he stood with Fay in his arms. He handed Nora the bottle and pulled the blanket around the baby to keep her warm.