Ziplock baggies, only good for one use.
“Pearl Edicott’s granddaughter is expecting twins,” her grandmother said in a pinched tone. “Pearl has the most horrific taste. It’s a very good thing she knows it.”
“Very good thing,” Mary repeated, smiling in spite of herself. Grace Harrington was an over-the-top snob, and if Mary had any sense, she’d probably detest her. After all, Grace wasn’t all that warm either, more days than not she found something wrong with Mary’s clothing or hairstyle, and she treated her help like they didn’t breathe the same air as she did. And then there was the fact that she had cut Mary’s mother out of her life when she’d married Hugh.
Yet, with all of that, Mary felt a connection with her, a strange admiration that went far beyond her wealth. Grace was smart, well-read and a stickler for speaking her mind. Mary could really respect that. She and her grandparents were rarely simpatico, but they were her blood, and had always wanted to be a part of her life, and strangely Mary’s mother had never discouraged her from seeing them.
Grace picked up two twin chenille baby robes that cost a hundred dollars each and eyed them closely. “And what are you doing here, my dear?”
“Designing a nursery for a client.”
“Ah, yes, your business. How is that going?”
“Great.”
Grace forgot about the robes for a moment and focused on Mary, her lips pursed. “This isn’t for one of those two-father homes, is it?”
“Not this time.”
“A couple, then?” She didn’t give Mary a chance to answer as she clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “A mother who doesn’t want to create her own child’s room. How modern.”
Mary was about to ask her grandmother if she herself had actually designed her own daughter’s nursery or if she’d hired three or four interior designers to make it happen, but she knew she’d probably get an answer that resembled something like, “It was my vision. As usual, the help was only there to execute it.”
“The nursery is for a single father actually,” Mary told her.
“Anyone I know?”
Mary’s brow lifted. “Now how many single fathers do you socialize with, Grandmother?”
Grace gave her a blank look. “None…that I know of.” Spotting a beautiful pink-and-blue blanket draped over one of the handcrafted armchairs, Grace turned her back on Mary. “Well, this chenille is lovely. It reminds me of the very one your mother carried around for years. If the maid even spoke of washing it, she would…” Grace stopped abruptly and cleared her throat.
Mary was grateful not to have to see the woman’s face in that moment. Turning toward a row of onesies, she quickly changed the subject. “Babies are really no bigger than dolls, are they?”
“For a short time, yes,” Grace replied softly. “But before you even realize it they are grown and deciding what they will wear and who they will marry without any input from you.”
“There you are.” A booming male voice broke through all the femininity. “I called your office and Olivia said you’d be—”
“Ethan?” In the heaviness of her conversation with Grace, Mary hadn’t heard the bell over the door. If she had heard—and seen—who was about to enter the shop, she would’ve been out the door in a matter of seconds. This was not good.
Ethan spotted Grace and changed instantly from casual guy to cynical business mogul. “Mrs. Harrington. What a pleasant surprise.”
“I doubt that,” the older woman said dryly.
Before her grandmother could connect the single father with Ethan, Mary said quickly, “I’m organizing several functions for Mr. Curtis.”
“Is that so?” Grace said, pursing her lips as if she’d just gotten a whiff of rotting fish, or as if the thought of her blue-blooded granddaughter working for the upstart who had basically stolen her family’s company made her want to throw up. “When did he hire you?”
In other words, how long has this been going on and why was I not informed?
“Just a few weeks ago,” Mary replied.
“And he has a meeting with you in a baby boutique?”
“No.”
No doubt sensing that Mary was floundering, Ethan jumped in to save her. “We were supposed to meet at the restaurant next door, but I saw your granddaughter in here and wanted to start early. As you know, Mrs. Harrington, I have little patience and zero time. I was in the neighborhood seeing a client and there was something I needed to discuss with Miss Kelley that couldn’t wait. Luckily she agreed to meet with me.”
“Luckily for you she agreed to take you on as a client, Mr. Curtis,” Grace said frigidly.
He nodded. “Your granddaughter is very talented.”
“A fact of which I am well aware.”
“Knowing that your granddaughter is planning the event, maybe you’ll reconsider the brunch on Saturday.”
“Perhaps,” she said tightly, then turned to Mary. “I have to run, my dear.”
“But the gift for the twins…”
“This shop is a little too new money for my taste, and you know how I despise that.” She didn’t have to look at Ethan to get her point across. “Your father is out of harm’s way now, I hear.”
“Yes,” Mary said, surprised her grandmother would bring something like that up, much less care.
“Nasty business, that. But we were in no position to help, unfortunately.” After two air kisses to Mary’s cheeks and nothing whatever for Ethan, she left them.
“That woman couldn’t hate me more if I spit on her shoe,” Ethan muttered.
“Oh, yes she could, but I wouldn’t advise trying it.”
“You’d think I stole the company right out from under their noses.”
“Didn’t you?”
He gave her a haughty look. “Harrington Corp. was in trouble. Your grandfather was really slipping. Clients weren’t getting serviced the way they had in the past and many were threatening to walk. I didn’t steal anything. If anything I saved that damn company.”
“Pretty much the same as stealing it, to my grandparents.” Mary took her cell phone out of her pocket and showed it to him. “Now, you have my phone number, right?”
“Yes.”
“Couldn’t you have called me instead of tracking me down?”
“Why? Did I embarrass you?” he asked coldly.
“Don’t be so thick, Curtis. I’m in a baby shop. I had to dance fast with my grandmother about why I was here,
