Grace opened her eyes just in time to see Mavis descending on her again. She was hugged so tightly this time she squeaked.
“That’s okay, honey. Nothing says you have to name him right off the bat.” She pulled back and smiled at her. “I think you’re smart to consider the baby’s name carefully. Within two months of naming our first son, I was sorry. Preston Potts never did fit the boy.” She headed toward the stairs, still smiling. “He finally did grow into it, but it wasn’t a pleasant childhood for him. The kids kept calling him Prissy Potts.
Where’s your husband, Grace? I can’t wait to meet him.”
“I don’t have a husband,” she told her, her words nearly getting stuck in her throat.
Mavis flushed. “Oh. I…ah…I’m sorry.” She waved her hand in the air, as if brushing her words away.
“That’s fine, honey. Does this mean Baby’s father is no longer in the picture?”
“Yeah. Something like that,” Grace mumbled, turning to smooth out the wrinkles in Baby’s blanket. She turned back to Mavis and shot her a forced smile. “But I’m okay with it. Baby and I will be just fine.”
Mavis nodded. “Then if you’re okay, we’re okay, too. Come on, Peter. Let’s get the stuff downstairs for Grace.”
Grace ran after Mavis, who was surprisingly nimble for a woman her age. “That’s not necessary. I can do that.”
“Nonsense. You just had a baby. You shouldn’t be lifting anything heavier than your child,” Mavis said, disappearing up the stairs.
Peter walked to the stairs with an understanding smile on his face and stopped in front of her. “Better not argue with her,” he said. “Not once she decides on something. Don’t worry. We won’t be here long, Grace. We’ve got to go check on the Merricks and the Colburns, to make sure they’re weathering the storm okay.”
“You’re always welcome here, Peter,” she said, not wanting him to think she was ungrateful.
He set an aging but still strong hand on her shoulder. “I know, honey. When my mother died, we appreciated the concern of our friends, but we also wanted some time to ourselves to come to terms with our loss. We’re here if you need us, Grace, but we’ll be careful not to intrude.”
“Thank you,” she told him, giving him a big hug.
Mavis returned down the stairs with a box in her hand, and Peter went up and got the changing table and carried it into the kitchen.
It was another three hugs later before the Pottses left as quickly as they had arrived, with instructions that Grace call them immediately if she needed anything.
It was while she was cleaning the changing table that Grace realized what Mavis had said. Michael was home, and he had locked himself in his room. Ellen and John Bigelow were nearing eighty themselves, and they were probably worried about the new owner of their farm, who was also their boarder.
Grace also remembered that Michael MacBain was part of the reason she was here. Not only was she supposed to get to know him, but she was supposed to do for him what the Pottses had automatically done for her without waiting for an invitation.
Instead, she was hiding out in her home like a coward. She was afraid of letting Michael be around Baby too much, afraid he would see the child’s twelve toes. But mostly Grace knew that she was afraid she might actually come to like Michael MacBain.
And that was her greatest act of cowardice to date.
It was time for her and Baby to go over to the Bigelow Christmas Tree Farm. Somehow she would pull Michael out of his room, and out of his profound sadness, even if only for a little while. He was not closing himself off from the rest of the world or locking himself away with Mary’s ashes.
Grace didn’t even get to knock on the door before it opened and Ellen Bigelow waved her out of the rain and into the kitchen of the old but recently remodeled house.
“Land sakes, Grace Sutter, what are you doing running about in this storm?” Ellen asked, her welcoming smile contradicting her scolding. “And with a child in tow to boot.”
“Ah, Ellen. It’s so good to see you,” Grace returned, leaning over Baby and giving Ellen a peck on the cheek. She had no problem recognizing Ellen, having worked for the Bigelows every Christmas season until she left for college. “You’re looking very chipper.”
The small, elderly, but still spry woman motioned for Grace to sit in one of the chairs at the kitchen table while she put the kettle on the stove to boil. “I’m not as chipper as I used to be,” she said, getting down two cups from the cupboard. She gave Grace a wink. “But I’ve got some years in me yet.”
“You haven’t aged a day since I last saw you,” Grace told her as she shed her jacket and let it fall over the back of her chair. She unzipped Baby from his carrier and pulled him into her lap.
Ellen immediately stopped what she was doing and came over to admire the infant.
“Ellen, I would like you to meet Baby Sutter, my son,” Grace said, setting his little butt on the table while she held him up to face her. “He’s four weeks old, and you are having the privilege of seeing him awake for a change. Mostly he eats and sleeps.”
“Baby Sutter?” the woman asked, raising her left brow. She patted Grace’s shoulder. “Having a problem with names, are you?”
“Finally, someone who understands,” Grace said gratefully. “I’ll name him eventually, when I find the right one.”
“Can I hold him?” Ellen asked. “It’s been ages since I’ve held anything this young,” she said, carefully taking Baby as Grace handed him to her.
Ellen made cooing noises and tickled his chin. She looked at Grace with sad longing showing in every wrinkle on her face. “I have four grandchildren, but they live halfway around the world. I haven’t even met two of them.”
And that was why the Bigelows had sold their farm to a stranger. They had raised three sons, but two of them were dead, and the other one lived in Hawaii.
“You should get a computer, Ellen, and get online. You could send E-mail and pictures to your grandchildren.”
Ellen’s eyes rounded, and she suddenly laughed. “Imagine, me an Internet granny,” she said. “I don’t know the first thing about computers.”
“It’s not as complicated as it seems,” Grace assured her. “Why, I could have you up and running in a day and teach you all you need to know about E-mail in an hour.”
Ellen thought about that, looking down at Baby. She looked back at Grace, a sudden, determined glint in her eyes lifting her expression. “I just might take you up on your offer. I’d love to find out what all the hoopla is about when it comes to this Internet thing. Everywhere you look today, it’s dot-com this and dot-com that. Would I be able to go to these dot-coms and buy things?”
“You could. They’ll deliver anything you want right to your door.”
“It’s a deal, then. I’ve been saving a nest egg for something special for myself, and I can’t think of a better use for it than getting in touch with my grandkids and the rest of the world.”
“Then as soon as this storm is over, I’ll get online with you, and we’ll pick out the equipment you need.
You can have it here in a week, and I’ll set you up.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I might even let John give it a try, after I learn it,” she added.
Grace looked around. “Where is John? And Michael? Is he still in his room?”
Ellen shook her head and sat down at the table across from her, still holding Baby. “No. John got him out of there an hour ago, thank God.” Her sadness returned. “He’s hurting, the poor man. I’m sorry for your loss, Grace.”
“Thank you. I’m going to miss her.”
“We all are. Mary was like a daughter to me this last year. But I understand now why she left all of a sudden,” she said, looking down at Baby. “She went to be with you during your pregnancy, didn’t she?
Michael said…well, he told us you don’t have a husband.”