The Baby’s Christmas Blessing: Chapter One

Copyright @ 2022 Meghann Whistler

Chloe Richardson gazed down at the baby in her arms. She wanted this job. She really wanted this job.

For one thing, the baby was adorable, with his downy hair, silken skin, sweet little lips and teeny-tiny eyelashes. He smelled good, too. Sweet and clean. Like fabric softener for the soul.

Plus, she needed the money. Her student teaching placement was starting in just a few weeks—in Boston, where the cost of living was sky-high—and the restaurant she and her brother, Brett, had inherited from their parents had just closed for renovations.

Which meant Chloe had no money coming in, and no way to save up for an apartment in Boston.

“He likes you,” Mabel pronounced, smiling, her voice quavery, her cane leaning against the side of her armchair.

Chloe looked up. The older woman had short hair that hadn’t gone completely gray, glasses that hung around her neck on a chain, and swollen, arthritic knuckles. She was wearing a pink cardigan set over a pair of black slacks, with a bejeweled cat brooch attached to her lapel.

Chloe herself—who was dressed much more casually in jeans and a red Christmas sweater with faux fur trim—would have worn that brooch. Although she didn’t wear it much anymore, she’d always liked costume jewelry.

Smoothing her finger over the baby’s soft cheek, she told Mabel, “I like him, too.”

“Does that mean you’ll take the job?” Mabel leaned forward in her seat, an expectant look on her face.

Chloe sighed. “You know I’m only here for another few weeks, right, Mabel? I’m leaving right after Christmas. You’ll hire me just to turn around and have to hire someone else.”

Although she definitely wanted the job, she didn’t want the baby to suffer because he got attached to her when she wasn’t going to be around long. Poor little guy was only two weeks old and he’d already lost his mother to a stroke during childbirth. Chloe had honestly never realized that strokes happened to young people. She’d always thought they only struck the elderly.

For the baby’s sake, she wished she’d been right about that.

“Yes, dear. Irene told me about those online classes you’ve been taking. I just don’t understand why you have to go to Boston to finish your teaching degree.”

After backing out of her student teaching placement at the last minute this past semester at the request of her then boyfriend, Dan, Chloe had felt fortunate to get any placement for January at all. She’d never aspired to city living, but she’d been struggling with depression since the breakup, and she was hopeful that a change of scenery would help. “It’s just— I’ve always wanted to be a teacher, and I’ve put it off for so long. I’m finally in a place where I can chase that dream. It’s now or never, Mabel. I have to go.”

“Fair enough, sweetheart. Fair enough.”

Mabel leaned forward to lift her glass of water from the coffee table. Her hand shook as she brought it to her mouth. When she tried to place it back down on the coaster, the glass tipped, spilling its contents on the floor. “Oh, no,” she said, her brow creasing.

Chloe stood smoothly so as not to jostle the baby. “Don’t worry. I’ll put Aiden in his bassinet and then clean it up for you.”

Mabel smiled gratefully as Chloe proceeded to mop up the spill. “Do you see why we need you, dear? Even if it’s just for a few weeks while we search for someone who can take the job on a permanent basis, we need help now.”

“And the baby’s father…?”

Mabel shook her head. “Not his father. His uncle.”

“Oh,” Chloe said. “Where’s his father?”

Mabel gave her a rueful glance. “We don’t know, sweetheart. Eloise never told any of us his name. I’m not sure she even knew who the father was.”

Chloe winged up a quick prayer. Not only had the kid lost his mother, but he was fatherless, too. God, help this baby. Protect this baby. Let him know love.

Mabel kept talking. “But Steven’s a good man. He’ll be a good father to Aiden.”

“And he and the baby will live with you here?” Chloe asked skeptically, glancing around the cozy interior of Mabel’s beachfront cottage. It was hard to imagine that a grown man would be comfortable staying here for any length of time.

For one thing, it was small. The four-foot-tall, silver-tinsel Christmas tree in the corner swallowed up about half the open space in the little living room. For another, it was…frilly. Mabel had lace curtains, hand-crocheted table toppers and a souvenir spoon collection mounted on the wall.

“Oh, no, no. He has his own place out on Frog Pond. He had a meeting with the bank today. He just dropped Aiden off for an hour so he could take care of that.”

“Frog Pond?” Chloe repeated, an icy feeling coming over her.

Once upon a time, she’d known a guy named Steve who’d spent the summer at a cottage on Frog Pond.

Once upon a time, she’d thought she was in love with a guy named Steve who’d spent the summer at a cottage on Frog Pond.

How young and naïve she’d been, letting him kiss her at that farewell bonfire under the stars. Her first kiss. Her most memorable kiss.

And then he’d never called.

“What’s the matter, dear?” Mabel asked. “You seem worried all of a sudden.”

“Won’t your…um, Steven want to interview the nanny candidates himself?”

Mabel chuckled. “That boy has no idea what to look for in a nanny. Besides, he’s completely overwhelmed right now, between caring for Aiden all night long and trying to get his new physical therapy practice up and running. Believe me, he doesn’t care who I hire. He just wants help.”

“All right,” Chloe said slowly. “If you’re okay with this being a temporary arrangement, you know I need the work now that the restaurant’s closed.”

Mabel put a shaky, dramatic hand to her heart, and Chloe wondered how desperate this Steven guy had to be to leave the baby with Mabel, whose arthritis was so bad she could barely walk let alone hold a baby. “Oh, I’m so relieved.”

Aiden started crying and Chloe retrieved him from his bassinet. “Don’t cry, little guy,” she said, rocking him, her voice going high, the way it always did when she spoke to young children. “What’s the matter? Are you hungry?”

“His formula’s in the kitchen,” Mabel said. “Everything you’ll need is in his diaper bag.”

Chloe nodded, holding Aiden in one arm and snatching up his bouncy chair with the other so she’d have a place to put him while she made his bottle. She wondered how much he weighed. He felt so tiny.

She set the bouncy chair down on the floor in Mabel’s little kitchen. Aiden cried harder when she clipped him into the seat. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s just for a second, okay?”

She quickly located the diaper bag and extracted a can of powdered formula, a clean bottle and a two-ounce vial of nursery water. “Hmm,” she said to herself over the crying, “you need more than two ounces, don’t you?” She rooted around in the diaper bag and found a second vial. “Let’s try four and see what happens.”

She poured the water into the bottle and added two scoops of formula. Then she screwed a cap on the bottle and proceeded to shake the mixture up.

Aiden was really crying now, his face red and tear-streaked. “Just one more second, sweetie,” she cooed as she put the fancy venting tube into the bottle and then affixed the nipple to the top. “Hold on one…more…second.”

Setting the bottle on the counter, she plucked Aiden from his chair and settled him in her arms, which was a challenge, since he was squirming while he screamed. Once she had a firm hold of him, she grabbed the bottle and tipped it into his mouth.

But she must not have fastened the top of the bottle properly, because the formula didn’t trickle gently into his mouth—it dumped out all over his face.

He screamed louder, absolutely irate.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Chloe gasped, desperately searching for the paper towels. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Um, excuse me,” a deep voice male sounded from the entrance to the kitchen, “but what exactly are you doing to my baby?”

***

When the harried, pint-sized blonde with overgrown bangs and dark, expressive eyes looked up at him, Steve Weston almost took a step backward.

Chloe Richardson.

She looked much more put-together than she had when they were teenagers—back then her fashion sense had been…eclectic, for lack of a better word—but he’d recognize her anywhere.

It had been eleven years since he’d last seen her and yet he’d thought of her often. Her cheerfulness, her helpfulness, her smile.

What was Chloe Richardson doing in his great-aunt’s kitchen, holding his newborn nephew? And why was there formula all over his nephew’s scrunched-up, little face?

“I’m sorry,” she said, obviously flustered. “I must not have screwed the bottle top on correctly.”

Steve sighed—was she the nanny candidate his great-aunt had found? Could this day get any more complicated? Then he held out his hands. “Give him to me.”

She handed Aiden over. Steve used his shirtsleeve to wipe the baby’s face and then put him on his shoulder, careful to support his little head. “Calm down, buddy,” he said, doing the bounce-walk that he’d already discovered to be extremely helpful in quieting Aiden when he was upset. “She’ll make you another one.”

He flicked a glance at Chloe to confirm that she would, indeed, fix a new bottle for the baby. She gave him a quick nod and set to work.

Steve kept bouncing and murmuring reassurances to Aiden, who was still giving those gut-wrenching don’t you dare ignore me cries. At least when he was forced to pay attention to his nephew, Steve didn’t have time to worry about his disastrous meeting at the bank.

When Chloe finally handed over the new bottle, Steve sat and attempted to give it to Aiden, but the baby was too worked up to even try to feed.

Steve gave her a helpless look. “He’s really mad.”

She blanched. “I’m so sorry.”

He winced. It hadn’t been his intention to make her feel bad. “I’m not blaming you. I’m just not sure what to do. I’m really new at this whole baby thing.”

“We could try taking him outside. Sometimes a change of scenery helps.”

Steve got up, Aiden still squalling in his arms. “Okay.”

Chloe pushed open the door from the kitchen to his great-aunt’s small backyard. Since her house was so close to the beach, the grass was sparse and the soil was sandy. There had been frost on the ground last week, but the weather had warmed since then. It had to be almost sixty degrees out, even though it was early December.

“Come on, buddy,” Steve said, walking and bouncing, walking and bouncing. “Everything’s okay. The new bottle’s ready. You’re gonna be fine.”

It took a few minutes, but after a while, Aiden’s crying took on a less hysterical edge.

Chloe held out the bottle and motioned toward the patio set. “Want to try again?”

Steve took the bottle and sat. This time, Aiden latched right on.

“Phew,” Steve said. “The sweet sound of silence.”

“I really am sorry about that…”

Steve gave his head a quick shake. “Not your fault. I think those bottles were designed by a rocket scientist.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile. He was glad she was feeling better, although he still wasn’t entirely sure why she’d been in the kitchen trying to feed Aiden in the first place.

“So, um…what are you doing here, Chloe?” He knew that Aunt Mabel had scheduled an interview with the lone candidate who’d applied for the nanny position, but seriously? That lone candidate was Chloe Richardson?

Chloe’s big brown eyes went wide. “You remember me?”

“Of course I remember you, Blondie,” he said, using the nickname all the kids at church camp had called her back in the day.

“Oh.” A flicker of hurt and confusion flashed across her face. “I thought…”

She seemed to think he’d forgotten all about her, and Steve knew why. His seventeen-year-old self had been a real coward. He never should have kissed her in the first place, and after he had, he should have had enough courage to call her and tell her why things could never work out between them instead of disappearing without a trace.

But what was done was done. There was no changing it now.

Aiden finished feeding, and Steve stood and patted him on the back. “So, did Aunt Mabel ask you to come over to talk about the nanny job?”

Chloe looked away. “We were talking about it, yes…”

“But you didn’t know you’d be working for me, did you?”

She looked up at him and shook her head, her dirty-blond bangs falling into her dark eyes and making Steve’s breath catch in his throat. Still so beautiful. “I didn’t even know you were back on Cape Cod.”

Steve scraped a hand over the spiky hairs on the back of his neck. The beautiful girl he’d known had turned into a beautiful woman, but he couldn’t afford to be pulled back into her orbit right now.

He desperately needed to find a nanny for Aiden so he could get back to work in his new physical therapy clinic—the very expensive new clinic he’d purchased with the help of a gigantic bank loan—but his great-aunt obviously hadn’t known that the two of them had a history.

“Are you…um, still interested in the position?”

She gave him a surprised look. “Are you interested in me taking the position?”

The incredulity in her voice made him feel like a piece of gum on the bottom of her shoe. He hadn’t disappeared on her back then because he didn’t like her—quite the opposite, really. But he absolutely didn’t have the energy to go into any of that right now.

“I know it’s probably not the ideal situation, but I’m in a real bind. My sister was going to watch the baby while I went to work, but now she’s gone and…” He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

Ever since the OB/GYN had come out of Eloise’s hospital room to deliver the bad news, it felt like he’d been treading water. When Aunt Mabel had told him she’d find a nanny for the baby, it had been a huge relief. But now…

He shook his head. What a horrendous couple of weeks. The worst since his father had…done what he’d done. It almost made Steve wish he’d never come back to Wychmere Bay in the first place.

But he and Eloise had agreed that this would be the best place to raise Aiden, and Steve wasn’t going to let his nephew down.

Not now. Not ever.

He was nothing like his father, and he’d prove it to his dying day if he had to.

If he had to, he’d even go to his father’s parole hearing in February and deliver his victim impact statement in person, although it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do. He hadn’t seen the man in eleven years and had no desire to see him ever again, but if that’s what it would take to keep his father behind bars and away from him and Aiden, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Some sins were too big to be forgiven. And Steve didn’t want Aiden to pay for the man’s sins the way Steve himself had paid—and continued to pay.

In the backyard, Chloe chewed her lip, something close to compassion in her eyes. “Have you interviewed anyone else?”

“Aunt Mabel said there’s only been one person who’s replied to the job posting so far.” He paused. “You.”

She nodded and stared off into space for a second, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m moving to Boston after Christmas.”

“Okay…”

She turned those expressive eyes of hers on him. “So this wouldn’t be a long-term thing.”

Steve hadn’t been aware that his shoulders were tight, but he felt them loosen in relief. “Temporary is fine. Even if we can’t find another nanny, he’ll be old enough for daycare in the new year. I just really need to get back to work, and as I’m sure you can see, my great-aunt’s in no condition to watch a baby.”

Chloe gave him a determined little nod. “All right. When do you want me to start?”

He shifted Aiden so he could take a quick glance at his watch. “How about now?”

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