admired the honeyed glow of maple floors in the kitchen, den and entry. In the living room, the carpet caressed her bare feet like crushed velvet. The brown leather couch and armchair still had tags hanging from them. The coffee table and a flat-panel TV sitting atop a wood stand were the room’s only other pieces. Calder mentioned he and Quinn hadn’t lived in the house long. Was he taking his time finding more stuff? Waiting till he had money in his budget? Or did he genuinely not care whether or not his house felt like a home?
She hoped he didn’t want to rush a big decision like finding just the right clock for the fireplace mantel and serene landscapes to hang on the walls. But then why would a rough, tough soldier care about any of that? He’d also admitted how much he worked. Why would a comfortable home even be high on his priority list? All he essentially needed was a place to park.
Which made her sad. Not for her, but for his son.
A survey of the kitchen showed Calder was right about her needing to go to the store. Unless she and Quinn wanted to eat baby-food peaches, carrots or protein shakes for breakfast, lunch and dinner, the day’s first priority was a trip to the store.
Noting the blender on the counter, Pandora decided no more bland, premade fare for her tiny charge. “You’re going gourmet, cutie.”
Quinn giggled when she landed a playful poke to his belly.
At the restaurant where she used to work after first getting her life back on track, she’d struck up a fast friendship with the chef. Huge, funny and French, in his laughable English he’d taught her to prepare most everything on the menu and a few items that weren’t. He’d been the only kind father figure she’d ever had, and his sudden heart attack had almost once again thrown her off course. All she remembered of her own dad was him constantly beating the crap out of her mom, occasionally taking a turn on her, then one day never coming home. Pandora would’ve thought her mom would be happy he was gone, but she’d suffered a meltdown—dying of an overdose near her forty-third birthday. Pandora, sixteen at the time, missed her, but for as long as she could remember, she’d virtually raised herself, doing her schoolwork as well as all the cooking and household chores, so the loss hadn’t come as any great shock. The distant aunt who’d taken official custody of her was all too happy for Pandora to remain self-sufficient. The ratty apartment’s rent and utilities were covered by her mom’s social security check. Pandora’s other needs were met through charity or after-school jobs.
The fact that her own mother had fallen apart should’ve served as the fire in her belly to make a better life for herself, but through counseling, Pandora now realized she’d fallen into the same abusive spiral.
Catching herself staring out the kitchen window, she said to the baby, “What do you think about from now on just focusing on our awesome future?”
He blew a raspberry in agreement.
“We have a lot to do. Not only is grocery shopping on our list, but I’ll need you to help me find a really pretty comforter and all the trimmings.”
Blue eyes wide, he hung on to her every singsong word.
“I know you’re a boy and probably don’t think a whole lot about things being pretty, but if you’d spent the past few years living where I have, you’d want to be surrounded by pretty things, too.”
Quinn babbled happily in response.
Turned out Calder’s car was as dreamy as his home. Her whole life, the closest she’d ever come to driving a new car had been when the mother of the children she used to work for had gotten a Lexus for her birthday and Pandora and the girls rode in the backseat on their way to a country-club party.
The Land Rover’s powerful engine didn’t sputter when she stopped for red lights and the tan leather upholstery smelled as good as it looked. In the rearview mirror, she regularly peeked at Quinn, all snug and smiley in his safety seat, gnawing on a rattle. Even he seemed to enjoy the ride.
The two of them made a few stops to find just the right floral bed set and fluffy yellow towels to match. Purchasing the items took nearly all her cash, but it was worth it.
With her purchases stashed in the back, she and Quinn headed to the grocery store.
Pandora had never bought so much food at once. Milk and eggs. Fruits, meats and veggies. When Calder said they were low on groceries, he hadn’t been kidding. While standing at the checkout, the total felt uncomfortably large. Her pulse raced and her palms were damp. Would the card Calder had given her even work?
The youngish female clerk asked, “May I see your ID?”
“Um, sure, but I’m a nanny and this is my boss’s card.” With Quinn fussing in his carrier, Pandora fished through her purse for her driver’s license.
“Sorry.” The woman returned Calder’s card to Pandora. “I’m not allowed to accept any credit card without matching ID.”
“Please,” Pandora begged. “It’s way past time for my baby to have his lunch, and—”
“You just said he’s not yours?”
“Well, yeah, but you know what I mean. Can we ask a manager?”
“Don’t you have an alternate form of payment?”
“No.” As this was the only open checkout lane, a line had formed behind her. With nothing else to do, people started to stare.
“Is there a problem?” the middle-aged manager asked.
Pandora explained her situation.
Quinn’s fussing morphed to crying.
“Please.” She took him from his carrier, jiggling him on her hip.
“Look, I’m sorry.” The manager voided her sale. “You seem like a nice lady, but corporate’s cracking down on checking ID for all credit-card sales. There’s a lot of fraud in this area and if your card turns out to be stolen, I’m losing my job. Can you get in touch with your boss? Have him come down here to show his ID? Then I’ll set you up an account and next time you shop, this won’t be a problem.”
Pandora eyed her cart. It’d taken over an hour to carefully make her selections. Would Calder be upset if she called his cell?
With Quinn crying harder than ever, she took a deep breath and dialed the store’s office phone.
* * *
“SORRY...” CALDER HUSTLED toward Pandora and Quinn. With a loaded shopping cart alongside her, she’d parked herself on a bench in front of the store manager’s office. “I’m an idiot for not seeing this contingency.”
“You’re not angry?” As if she’d worried about his reaction, her shoulders sagged in relief. “Because I’m sorry I even had to call. But the baby’s hungry and I didn’t know what else to do.”
When Quinn fussed, she hugged him closer, smoothing her hand up and down his back.
“How could I be upset with you when this was my fault? Should’ve thought this through.”
After getting Pandora squared away with the manager to use his card, Calder purchased the groceries, then pushed the cart, following the nanny and his son
