Harbor Nights (12 page)

“Mom”—she rolled her eyes and shook her head—“how old am I?” She didn't know if her mother was that concerned for her or if she was that nervous to be going out with Karl. “You two go enjoy yourselves. Make a whole day of it. Heck, stay and have dinner there. I heard they have some great restaurants. Zsa Zsa and I will be fine.”

Her mom and Karl left. Zsa Zsa whined as if her heart was breaking.

She stood in the living room and watched as Karl opened the passenger door to his pickup and helped her mother in. The gray ponytail had thrown her there for a moment, but at least, he was a gentleman. Her mother was dating a man who had longer hair than she did. How weird was that?

As the truck pulled away from the curb, the phone rang. She put Zsa Zsa down and headed for the kitchen.

“Hello?” She frowned down at the dog who had followed her into the kitchen and was now sitting by her feet looking up pitifully. Zsa Zsa probably wanted to be held all day. Great.

“Norah?”

“Yes?” She thought it was Ned, but she could hear a baby crying in the background.

“Hi, it's Ned, and I really, really need a favor.”

“Okay, I'll bite.” She owed Ned for all the work he had done last weekend.

“I need your help. My brothers and their wives went backpacking for the weekend. My parents were supposed to have the kids, but Aunt Sue took a turn for the worse, so they rushed to Boston late last night. Instead of seeing everyone disappointed, I volunteered to keep the kids for the weekend.”

By the sound of it, the kids were having a blast. She grinned. “I see; so what do you need help with?” As if she didn't know already.

“Tyler is no problem. I can even handle Hunter and Morgan. But every time I put Amanda down, she cries. She wants to be held all the time, and I can't get her to fall asleep.”

She could still hear baby Amanda in the background. Obviously, she wasn't being held. “I don't know much about kids, Ned.” As she was an only child, she hadn't been exposed to a lot of children.

“You can hold Amanda. I saw you holding her at my mom's the other week. She likes you.” Ned sounded desperate. “I'll bring you an entire load of firewood if you'll come over and help me out for a while.”

Ned was more than desperate. A load of firewood wasn't cheap. “Can I bring Zsa Zsa with me? I got stuck babysitting her for the day.”

“You can bring an entire circus complete with clowns and elephants if you'll just come.”

“Okay. I'll leave in a couple of minutes.” She needed a quick change of clothes. “Where do you live?”

Norah pulled in front of Ned's house and couldn't believe it what she saw. It wasn't a house; it was a log cabin, a huge log cabin out in the middle of the woods. She knew he worked in construction and built log homes; she just hadn't realized that he lived in one.

She picked up her purse and Zsa Zsa and got out of the car. Flipper came dashing around from the back of the house barking. The Pomeranian started barking back. She raised the fidgeting Zsa Zsa above her head and stood perfectly still as Flipper smelled her legs.

“Flipper, stop that!” yelled Ned as he stepped out onto the front porch. “Leave Norah and Zsa Zsa alone.”

Tyler had beaten Ned out of the door and was hurrying down the steps to greet her. Three-year-old Hunter and Morgan followed Ned through the open screen door and raced after Tyler. For some reason, Hunter only had one sneaker on, and Morgan was wearing only a pair of Care Bear underwear. A frazzled Ned stood on the porch holding a wide awake Amanda. She tried not to laugh at the sight, but it was hard.

“How's it going?” She shut the car door and petted Flipper, who whined contentedly under her hand. “Hi, Tyler,” she greeted the five-year-old boy as he skidded to a halt in front of her, kicking up a spray of gravel.

“Hi, Norah. Uncle Ned said you were coming to rescue him.”

“Did he now?” She glanced at Ned, who tried to appear innocent. Amanda was cradled securely in his one arm. Her little arms and feet were waving in every direction, but she wasn't crying. For some reason, she was wearing only a diaper, a T-shirt with duckies printed all over it, and one yellow sock.

Hunter and Morgan had finally joined Tyler as the greeting committee. “Hi, guys.” Morgan's blond ponytails were crooked and messy, and she didn't seem to care that she was nearly naked or that she was calmly walking across sharp, little pieces of gravel. Hunter was the one hopping on one foot and acting as if they were hot coals.

“Can we play with Zsa Zsa?” asked Tyler.

“Sure, but let's wait until we are in the house. Flipper seems to upset her.” The Pomeranian loved children and hated other dogs. She wasn't sure if Flipper's monstrous size bothered Zsa Zsa or if she was just jealous there was another dog on the scene trying to steal all the glory.

The kids all hurried toward the house. She walked at a more leisurely pace trying not to laugh at Ned. It looked like there were raw eggs on his shirt, and something brown and gooey was on his shorts. He hadn't shaved yet this morning, and he looked all rough and sexy, like he had just rolled out of bed. She really didn't want to think about Ned being in his or anyone else's bed. “What time did they drop them off to you?”

“Four-thirty.” Ned held the screen door open for her. “They wanted to get an early start.”

It was barely ten o'clock. Five and a half hours and Ned looked like he had already gone through hell and back once. She glanced at the baby in his arms and smiled. Little Amanda was merrily blowing bubbles with her lips. “Has she been up the whole time?” Amanda looked wide awake to her.

“I got her to sleep once for about ten minutes. As soon as I laid her down, she woke back up.” Ned glanced around his house and grimaced. “Excuse the mess. It usually doesn't look like this.”

“No problem.” She could see that most of the clutter was kid related. One Dora the Explorer and two Spiderman sleeping bags were spread out on the living room's area rug, along with assorted pillows, stuffed animals, and overflowing suitcases. Someone didn't believe in packing light. By the looks of things, maybe John, Paul, and their wives weren't planning on coming back for the kids. “Do kids really need that many changes of clothes for one weekend?”

“If you think this looks bad, you should see the family room where all of Amanda's stuff was dumped.” Ned led the way down the short hall and into the back of the house.

The entire back of the house was one huge open space. One end of the room was a big, roomy kitchen while the middle of the room had a nice size table and chairs. The other end of the room was the family room, which had a huge stone fireplace and multiple patio doors leading out to a screened-in porch. It would have been gorgeous if someone hadn't dumped what looked like an entire Babies“R”Us store in the middle of room. “How can one little baby need all of this?”

“Got me.” Ned looked around the crowded room and shook his head. “I was still half asleep when they set this all up, carried in the three sleeping kids, and handed me a wide awake Amanda. Before I could even start a pot of coffee, they were gone like the wind. They couldn't get out of here fast enough.” His expression softened as he glanced down at his niece in his arms. “She hasn't let me put her down since.”

“Have any of that coffee left?” She had a feeling that she was going to need all the caffeine she could get. A portable playpen that was doubling as a crib was over by the unlit fireplace. A yellow and white swing was in position by one of the patio doors. An empty infant seat was sitting on the coffee table vibrating softly. A row of car seats of assorted sizes were lined up by the door leading into what might be an office or a den. Two diaper bags were on the couch, along with what appeared to be a dozen of baby blankets of different sizes and textures. A plastic baby bathtub stacked with towels, a half a dozen bottles, and a green plastic frog were on the kitchen table.

“I never got around to making it.” Ned stepped over a scattered bucket of Legos that Zsa Zsa just sniffed. “I could put a pot on now if you like.”

He looked like he could use the jolt more than she. The three older children were rolling around on the floor, trying to teach Zsa Zsa a new trick. The Pomeranian thought it was a game and was chasing the kids. “How about if I hold Amanda while you do that?” She reached out and took the happy infant. If Amanda started to cry, she was handing her right back to Ned.

“She was just changed and fed.” Ned hurried over to the coffee pot. “I just can't get her to sleep.”

She smiled down at the sweet baby. Amanda stared up at her in wide-eyed wonder. Amanda smelled like baby powder. “You change diapers?” She knew fathers pulled diaper duty nowadays, but Ned wasn't Amanda's father.

“Did you expect her to stay in the same one till her parents got home Sunday night?” Ned seemed amused about that possibility as he measured out the coffee grounds.

“I told you I wasn't very good with kids.” Of course she knew the diaper had to be changed. It just seemed strange that a man would willingly volunteer for the job. Ned either loved his brothers and their families, or he was a super uncle.

“You're doing great with her.” Ned pulled down two cups. “She's even starting to look sleepy. Keep doing whatever you're doing.”

She wasn't doing anything but holding Amanda. She was standing by the table, keeping an eye on the other kids and Zsa Zsa, and slowly swaying back and forth on her feet. Amanda was looking a little dreary eyed now. “I think she might be going to sleep.”

Ned seemed pleased with that possibility. “Did you have breakfast? I fixed the kids eggs a couple of hours ago. I could whip you up some.”

Norah looked at the mess in the kitchen and tried not to laugh. Breakfast was still everywhere, and she meant everywhere—from the dirty dishes and plastic cups with cartoon characters on them to the two frying pans still sitting on the stove. “I ate already, but thanks.”

Ned opened the dishwasher and started to load it while the coffee dripped.

“Can I ask why Morgan is only in her underwear?” It was driving her nuts. The little girl was now sitting in front of the television watching Sponge Bob.

“It's a bathroom thing.” Ned scraped off the plates and stacked them in. “She's a big girl now, and she's begun using the potty all on her own. Problem is that she insists she can't go unless all her clothes are off.”

“I see.” She tried not to chuckle. She didn't want to bounce Amanda, whose eyes were finally closed.

“Kay says she will outgrow it soon.” Ned piled in the cups and started to wipe down the counters.

“One would hope so. It might be a little awkward once she hits her teen years.” She glanced over at Morgan, who was now clapping her hands and singing along with the television. Tyler was still playing with Zsa Zsa, and Hunter was building something with the Legos. Amanda's playpen was right in the middle of all the commotion.

“My brother is already getting gray hair just thinking about raising a teenage daughter.” Ned poured the coffee. “What do you take in it?”

“Cream and sugar.” Amanda gave a little sigh but never opened her eyes. She was finally asleep. “Is that a den or something?” She nodded in the direction of a doorway leading to another room.

“My office. Why?”

“Maybe if you move Amanda's playpen in there and partly close the door, it will keep the noise down. She might sleep longer for you.”

Ned took one look at the sleeping Amanda and didn't hesitate. “Good call.” He grabbed a lightweight pink blanket off the top of the pile and the playpen and carried them into the office.

She carefully followed, trying hard not to jostle the baby. She had no idea how to maneuver the sleeping infant out of her arms and into the bottom of the playpen without waking her. “Ned, I think I might need some help here,” she whispered.

Ned fixed the nice soft pad in the bottom of the playpen and then gently lifted Amanda out of her arms. Amanda's little lips pouted for a moment and then seemed to search for the nipple of a bottle before relaxing into a sweet smile. She never woke up as he slowly laid her down and covered her up. “I am forever in your debt.” Ned slowly backed out of the room.

She glanced around the room with appreciation. Both because it was the only room of the house the kids hadn't overtaken and because of the space. Now this was what an office was supposed to look like. The massive wooden desk had a new laptop sitting on it, and custom-made floor-to-ceiling bookshelves took up an entire wall, while a stone fireplace took up the other wall. Oh yeah, she could hunker down here over the winter months and write the great American novel. It was a real shame she had no idea of what the great American novel would consist of, but this would be the room to write it in.

She closed the door, leaving it open an inch or two, and followed Ned back to the kitchen. She gratefully took the cup he was holding out. “Thanks. I thought you built log homes?” It was an awfully impressive office for someone who played with oversized Lincoln Logs all day.

“During the good weather months.” Ned took a sip of his coffee. “You can't do that kind of work during the harsher winter season, so I indulge in my other passion to pay the bills and keep Flipper in puppy chow.”

“Which is?”

“I'm a freelance writer. Mostly for outdoor magazines. Hiking, backpacking, save the environment, articles like that.”

“You're a journalist?” She didn't know why it shocked her to learn they had so much in common. Ned didn't look like any reporter she had ever met.

“No, I consider myself a freelance writer.” Ned moved the diaper bags to the floor and sat on the couch. “I was an English Lit major in college; they didn't have any course called Log Construction 101.”

She'd known he had gone to college. “Why not work in the field full time?” She sat down on the other end of the plush brown sofa and sank into its softness. All the children were now glued to the television watching the sponge who lived in a pineapple under the sea. Zsa Zsa was curled up in Tyler's lap.

“Doing what?”

“I'm sure the
Hancock Review
could use another good writer.” Why hadn't he applied for her job when it had been open months ago? She glanced around his house and knew the answer. The salary, while decent, wasn't great. She would never be able to afford this house. Either log construction paid well, or she was writing for the wrong media.

“I figured out a long time ago, as my professors drummed it into my head, that I don't take directions very well.” Ned reached over and shut the vibrating infant seat off. “I hate being told what I have to write and then having to do it on someone else's time schedule.”

“Then you certainly don't want my job.” It was one of the drawbacks to her job. Some of her assignments were just plain boring no matter how interesting she tried to make them. There was only so much anyone could say or do on the impending vote next month about putting parking meters on Main Street or about the fact that Sullivan's water authority wanted to raise their rates. “So you don't have deadlines?”

“Occasionally. Mostly, I write the article first, and send it to the magazine I think it fits. If they buy it, great; if not, I send it out to a different magazine. Sometimes, the editors of the magazines contact me for a certain article they have in mind for one of their issues. If the subject interests me and I have the time, I write it.”

“Money's not a factor?” She'd never met anyone so independently wealthy that money didn't matter.

“Money always matters.” Ned chuckled. “For the right amount, I can be persuaded to be very interested in a certain subject.”

She chuckled along with him. Now she understood. Principles are nice, but they don't pay the bills. “Have you ever written about something you didn't want to or that you totally disagreed with?” She was thinking about the piece her editor wanted her to write next. Ned wasn't going to be too happy when she expressed the views opposing the logging industry. Flipper would go without his puppy chow if Ned didn't have those logs.

“In the beginning, yeah.” Ned finished his coffee and set the empty cup on the table. “I was an unknown, so I had to take any article they threw my way. Over the years, I've not only made a name for myself, but I've also developed a pretty good feel for the market. I know what the readers of those magazines want to read. I don't write to please the editors any longer; I've learned to write for the reader. A really good editor will see that and appreciate my work.”