by Teri Wilson
“Wow.” Madison’s throat clogged. She was fully aware this was just a small-town newspaper, not at all in the same league as a New York fashion magazine. But never once had she had this sort of praise heaped on her at Vogue.
It wasn’t terrible. In fact, it felt sort of awesome. She was surprised at how much Mr. Grant’s kind words meant to her. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything at the moment, because I haven’t gotten a new letter from Fired Up. Hopefully, I will. And when that letter comes, I want you to respond again. Got it?”
Madison nodded. “Got it.”
“Also, I still want you to spend some time with real-life kids. Your column needs to be good. Is that understood?” He jabbed his pointer finger onto the copy of the Lovestruck Bee spread open on his desk.
Madison was much more comfortable with this familiar, less effusive version of Mr. Grant. She nodded. “Absolutely. My aunt set me up with the library for story circle time on Saturday mornings, and tonight I’m attending knitting class in hopes of lining up a few babysitting gigs.”
Her boss grunted. “I don’t need the specifics. I just need you to turn in some good copy and keep arguing with Fired Up in Lovestruck.”
She could do that, especially the second part. In fact, nothing would thrill her more. “Yes, sir.”
Madison practically floated back to her desk, and she kept floating for the rest of the day, right up until it was time to walk next door for the baby booties class at Main Street Yarn.
“You look happy,” Aunt Alice said as she gave Madison a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“It’s been a good day.” Madison smiled. “A great day, actually.”
“That’s my girl.” Alice winked, and Toby hopped off the crocheted dog bed tucked in the corner of the cash register area to scamper toward Madison and paw at her shins.
She scooped the tiny dog into her arms and looked around. The walls of the shop were all lined with cubby holes, each stacked with either skeins of yarn or yarn that had been wound into balls. From a distance, they almost looked like colored Easter eggs or crayons in a box. The cubby holes closest to the front of the store held yarn in delicate shades of white and ivory, which eventually switched to gentle pastel hues and ultimately, an explosion of vivid color near the back of the shop.
A large round table sat in the center of the sales floor, its beloved maple surface worn smooth with age. A ceramic bowl sat in the center of the table, piled high with balls of yarn in tints straight out of a baby shower—pale ballet pink, baby blue, minty green and a fair shade of yellow that reminded Madison of the fuzzy baby chicks she sometimes saw for sale at the Lovestruck Farmers’ Market. Knitting patterns labeled Baby Booties for Beginners had been placed in front of the six chairs surrounding the table.
Back when she was a little girl, Madison typically spent a week of each summer vacation in Lovestruck with Aunt Alice. Her dad was usually too busy at work to tear himself from the office, so Alice would meet her at the train station and dote on her for the entire week as if Madison were her own. Aunt Alice had taught her how to make hats on a round loom at this very table.
The memory made Madison smile. In a way, her aunt had been the one to introduce her to fashion. She still had some of the hats she’d made on that loom, along with her sad, juvenile attempts at crocheted scarves.
“Do you remember how to cast on?” Alice said as she offered Madison a pair of slender, wooden knitting needles.
She placed Toby on the floor so he could resume his spot of honor on his crocheted dog bed and took the needles. They felt completely foreign in her grasp. “Not at all.”
Alice winked. “No worries. This is a beginner class. You’ll fit right in.”
Her aunt was right...mostly. Two of Madison’s classmates were regulars at Main Street Yarn who signed up for all of Alice’s classes, regardless of skill level. The other three women who occupied seats alongside her at the old maple table were totally new to knitting. Two of them were in the late stages of pregnancy, both glowing as they struggled with a basic garter stitch. The third, situated right next to Madison, appeared to be around Aunt Alice’s age and wore a cute pair of eyeglasses with cheerful red cat eye frames. She wondered if the older woman might be a grandmother, but didn’t want to assume.
In any event, there wasn’t an actual baby in sight. Madison tried to tamp down her disappointment as she fumbled with her knitting.
“I’m sorry,” Aunt Alice mouthed to her at a quiet moment when all the other students had their heads bent over their booties in the making.
“It’s fine,” Madison mouthed back. “I’m having fun!”
She held up her tangle of pink yarn as evidence. In no way did the mess attached to her knitting needles resemble a tiny sock, but this was only the first night of the four-week-long class. Rome wasn’t built in a day and all that.
Except Mr. Grant was expecting her to morph into Mary Poppins overnight, and for that, she needed to get her hands on some living, breathing babies—not just their shoes. She’d bought herself a little time with the buzz generated by her response to Fired Up, but who knew how long it would last? There was no guarantee her cranky correspondent would even write another letter to the editor.
Meanwhile, the only thing Madison had in common with Mary Poppins was an appreciation for polka dots. Seriously, Emily Blunt’s wardrobe in the recent movie sequel had been amazing, but somehow Madison doubted she could get a workable column out of it. Oh, how she longed for her days at Vogue.
Once class was over, Madison straightened up the shop, readying it for closing like she’d done when she was a little girl while Alice helped a few lingering students at the checkout area. The table was covered with bits of yarn and practice rows stitched together in pastel colors. But as Madison picked through the discarded items, she found a tiny toe-shaped tip of a baby bootie still attached to a slender bamboo knitting needle. It was crafted from pale, peachy-pink yarn—the same yarn her knitting neighbor to her right had been using during class.
She looked up, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman with the red cat-eye glasses, but she wasn’t among the small crowd gathered near the register.
Uh-oh.
Aunt Alice had assigned them all homework, and if the knitter didn’t get ten new rows added to her project, she’d never be able to catch up during the next class. Madison grabbed the knitting needle and the ball of yarn it was attached to and hurried to the front of the shop.
“Knitting emergency!” She dashed past her aunt, waving the needles in explanation as she pushed through the shop’s front door. “I’ll be right back.”
She caught sight of the cute cat-eye glasses just a few feet away, where the woman was about to climb into the driver’s seat of a boxy little minivan.
“Wait!” Madison called out. “You forgot something.”
She caught up to her fellow student just in time.
The woman pressed a hand to her heart when she spotted her creation in Madison’s grasp. “Oh, my. I can’t believe I left that behind! Thank you so much.”
“No problem. I’m glad I caught up to you.” Madison handed her the bundle of knitting. “I’m Madison, by the way.”
“Thanks again, Madison. I’m Sarah.” The older woman smiled, and as she bent to tuck the yarn and needles into her bag, Madison caught sight of two infant car seats tucked neatly into the backseat of Sarah’s minivan.
She gasped. Now what, though?
Nice to meet you, Sarah. Can I borrow your babies?
Sarah let out a laugh. “My husband is home alone with our two granddaughters. They’re only six months old, so I thought I’d rush home in case he needed rescuing.”
Correction: Can I borrow your grandbabies?
Madison cleared her throat. “Wow, twins.”
“Yes, they’re precious. Honestly,
they’re both the sweetest little angels. But twins can be a handful, so we try and help out when we can.” Sarah nodded and gave a tiny shrug as if Madison knew precisely how much of a handful a pair of angelic twin baby girls could be.
She didn’t, obviously. She had no clue whatsoever. If she’d had any idea at all, she never would have blurted out the words that followed. “They sound adorable. Let me know if you ever need a babysitter. I’d...um...love to help out sometime.”
Sarah peered at Madison over her cat-eye frames. “Really?”
“Really.” Madison nodded. If she could handle one baby, surely she could handle two.
How much harder could it be?
Warning bells sounded in the back of her head, reminding Madison that she’d never in her life changed a single diaper, much less two at a time.
“Well, well, Madison. You just might be the answer to all our prayers.” Sarah beamed.
I highly doubt it. And yet, Madison pasted on a smile. She’d worked for the toughest editor on Madison Avenue and lived to tell about it. She could survive a few hours with twin six-month-olds. Her career—as pathetic as it was at the moment—depended on it.
“It just so happens my son, John, is looking to hire a part-time night nanny. The mother isn’t...well, let’s just say she’s no longer in the picture.” Sarah looked Madison up and down. “I have a feeling the two of you should meet. The sooner, the better.”
Chapter Five
Dear Editor,
My sincerest apologies to Queen Bee for my comments about the applesauce recipes recently listed in her column. Upon further experimentation, I concede that her advice about removing the apple seeds was entirely correct.
However, in today’s paper readers are treated to yet another whimsical dribble of words from Queen Bee. While “Three Ways to Use Yarn to Entertain Your Toddler” seems helpful on the surface, I must ask why a professional journalist insists on writing her material in this annoying list format. Also, a mere three items hardly constitute a list.
Three? Seriously?
Sincerely,
Fired Up in Lovestruck
The sooner, the better.
They’d been Sarah Cole’s exact words when she’d called Jack at the station the night before.
Her name is Madison Jules, and I think she’s just what you’re looking for.
Jack sighed as he ran a hand over Ella’s soft, downy head and glanced out the window of the Lovestruck Bean. His mom had been insistent—he was to call the woman she’d met at her knitting class immediately for an interview.
In theory, Jack agreed. In practice, however, an immediate interview necessitated getting a substitute for the second day of his shift. He’d done so, mainly because he was well aware of how indebted he was to his mom. There was absolutely no room for negotiation. If she wanted him to do something, he did it. Plus, the guys at the firehouse were more than happy to cover for him if it meant he might get some actual help at home. He hadn’t even had to secure a sub. Wade volunteered to do it for him, so long as Jack stuck by his earlier promise to hire the next qualified applicant for the job.
So Jack had acquiesced and made the call. A few hours of phone tag with the mystery woman in question had followed, but he’d eventually scheduled an interview via text. Then he’d headed home early, tucked Ella and Emma into their baby wrap carrier and trudged down to the coffee shop to meet his possible future night nanny. And now...
Now she was late, which didn’t exactly bode well.
He rocked back and forth, keeping up the gentle motion that typically lulled the twins to sleep. It wasn’t quite working, though. Emma cooed happily, and her tiny little eyelashes were doing the slow-blink thing that meant a nap was imminent, but Ella’s little legs kicked up a storm.
“Shh,” he murmured and paced the length of the coffee shop. Maybe he should have had the nanny come to the house instead of trying to do this over maple macchiatos in one of the busiest places on Main Street.
Then again, he’d never set eyes on Madison Jules. He didn’t know the first thing about the woman, other than she liked to knit baby booties. That seemed like an excellent sign, though. It conjured an image in Jack’s head of a grandmother-type with her hair in a bun and glasses hanging from a chain around her neck. Someone whose entire life revolved around babies. Someone punctual.
He frowned and dug his phone out of his pocket to check the time. A text message flashed on the display.
Running a few minutes late. So sorry. Almost there.
The message was followed by two emojis—matching cartoon baby heads.
Jack stopped pacing.
Emojis?
He glanced out the window again, somehow no longer certain his night nanny was an actual grandmother. But that was fine, wasn’t it? Shame on him, really, for jumping to conclusions about knitters.
Everything’s going to be fine.
Ella let out a happy squeal, rousing a sleepy-eyed Emma. Jack pressed a soft kiss to the tops of their sweet little heads. First one, then the other. Then he looked back up and froze when his gaze locked on a familiar woman dashing through the crosswalk, straight toward him.
She had a halo of dark, windswept curls and warm, brown eyes—eyes that he’d seen in his dreams for several nights running. She was wearing another pair of sky-high stilettos with glossy red soles that were ridiculously impractical for rural Vermont, but damned if they didn’t make her legs look a million miles long. A large designer handbag was slung over one of her slender shoulders, perfect for carrying around a bushelful of apples.
Or, Jack thought nonsensically, possibly his heart.
His jaw clenched as once again, his mother’s words spun through his head.
Her name is Madison Jules...
She’s just what you’re looking for.
* * *
Madison was running late, and it was all Fired Up’s fault.
She’d planned her entire lunch hour around the coffee date she’d scheduled with Sarah’s son, John, but then Mr. Grant had called her into his office—again—to gush about the ongoing success of the feud. She’d been forced to sit and pretend to be excited about the fact that some random stranger was publicly insulting her again, as if it was a good thing.
It was a good thing, she supposed. Under the current circumstances, anyway. So long as she and Fired Up kept antagonizing each other, her job was secure.
But being mocked over and over didn’t exactly feel great. She wanted to be appreciated for her actual work, not the fact that she’d managed to spectacularly antagonize one of her readers. Was that really too much to ask?
A pickup truck honked at her as she dashed through the crosswalk. She waved in apology and blew a corkscrew lock of hair out of her face. She was so late. There was no way she’d get the night nanny job. Maybe that was okay, because she wasn’t sure she even wanted it. She should be in Manhattan right now, pitching articles for Fashion Week. Instead, her boss had decided to print her troll’s recent letter to the editor on the front page.
Oh, how the mighty—and stylish—had fallen.
The minute her nanny interview was over, she needed to send another round of emails to her contacts in New York. She needed to get out of Lovestruck. She needed her life back—her real life.
But first she needed to convince Sarah’s son that she was the next best thing to Mrs. Doubtfire. She was so not in the mood for this.
“Sorry!” she called out to anyone and everyone as she burst through the door of the Lovestruck Bean.
Every head in the establishment swiveled in her direction, save one. There didn’t seem to be an infant in sight, much less twins, and within seconds the patrons all turned their attention back to their coffee drinks.
Madison deflated a little, and then narrowed her gaze at the broad, muscled back of the person who’d managed to ignore her frazzled
arrival. Heat crawled up her neck, and her stomach did a nervous little flip. She’d know that back anywhere.
Ugh, what was the surly firefighter doing here? This wasn’t good. Not good at all, given her track record of making a complete idiot out of herself every time he was near.
She squared her shoulders. Fine. She’d deal with it. Sarah’s son hadn’t even arrived yet, anyway. Maybe Lieutenant Grumpy would be gone by then. He definitely didn’t seem like the type to linger over his latte.
She fished through her bag for her cell phone and fired off another text to John, the father of Sarah’s angelic grandtwins, just to let him know she was at the Bean, ready and waiting. The second she hit Send, a nearby phone chimed with an incoming text message.
Odd. Madison gnawed on her bottom lip and glanced around. She tried to ignore Lieutenant Cole, but as usual, her attention was drawn to him like a magnet. So very annoying.
She frowned as she watched him pull an iPhone out of his back pocket. No. Her pulse kicked up a notch as she checked her own phone, and sure enough, a read receipt flashed beneath the text she’d just sent.
No.
Way.
He couldn’t possibly be Sarah’s son, could he? Madison hadn’t caught Sarah’s last name. She only knew that the single dad in need of a night nanny was named John.
Her heart sank to the soles of her patent leather Louboutin stilettos. Jack was a nickname for John, wasn’t it? She cursed small-town life under her breath. This would never happen in a city as big as Manhattan. In New York, she could have humiliated herself in the produce section of the supermarket and taken solace in the fact that she’d never again run into the hot first responder who’d witnessed her mortification.
Flight-or-fight instinct kicked in hard, and she started toward the door. She couldn’t work for him. No way, no how. She wasn’t sure if she despised him or if she wanted him to kiss her, and neither of those options was appropriate for an employer-employee relationship.
