“Aren’t they all pretty much alike?”
They looked like armored field equipment. “I guess. She can always return it for something she’d prefer.”
“Good idea.” He grabbed the nearest dangling wheel. “How about this one?”
“It’s more than the thought that counts.” Emma perused the selection. “You’re having a girl, but pink would probably get dirty. Maybe I could get brown with accents of pink.” She looked at one mostly covered in brown, with bubbly-looking cats in bows scattered across fields of pink on the seat and the underside of the roof.
“That’s too expensive,” Brett said. “You can’t spend that much money on us, Emma.”
“Megan needs to know I’m on board with the baby.”
“You’re trying now. It’s all I ask.” He sounded uncomfortable, and she looked him right in the eye, so he’d know she wasn’t pretending.
“Liking Megan isn’t an effort.” Getting over her own don’t-abandon-me, clinging instincts was where she always got stuck. “Megan’s nice, and she loves you.”
His smile changed him into a person she’d never known, a relaxed, happy person. “I know she does,” he said. “No matter how much gossip she endures about our stereotypical May-December romance.”
“You aren’t stereotypical. Megan came here instead of trying to lure you to New York. She has to work like any outsider for trust. I didn’t show up to support you, and I doubt Mother has been a cheerleader for your relationship.”
“I don’t see much of Pamela, and Megan sees less of her. Not that I don’t think Megan could handle her. We just have no reason to visit with her.”
“I haven’t seen her yet either.” And there was no reason to discuss her mother with her father. She pointed at the gamboling kittens. “I’m thinking this one. Do you like it?”
“I’m not letting you buy that. It costs more than my first car.”
Most of the shops in Bliss sold goods more likely to be found on Rodeo Drive. Bliss’s architecture was protected in its pristine, nineteenth-century origins, but pricing was always right up-to-date.
Emma slipped a card from the Bliss Baby-decorated plastic pocket beneath the carriage. “You’re not that old, Dad, and Owen discovered that someone had insulated the back bathroom walls downstairs. The insulation was neither toxic to humans nor irresistible to termites. So I have mad money.”
“That you should put in the bank.”
“My account is healthy enough.”
“Is Owen overcharging you on anything?”
She glanced at her father as they approached the checkout counter. “Did you hear me say he’d saved me money?”
“He didn’t save it. Someone simply completed that work, so he didn’t have to charge you to redo it. I wonder when your grandmother had it done.”
Emma’s father had never been at ease with his mother-in-law’s lack of need for his advice.
“Owen didn’t have to tell me. I’m so clueless he could have double-charged me for insulation I don’t need.”
“I’d better check out this work he’s doing.”
“I wish you would, actually. You renovated our house when I was in elementary school. You know what to look for.”
“Then you are concerned.”
“Not with Owen. With my lathe and plaster—whatever amount the termites couldn’t stomach.”
“I’ll come. I feel guilty I didn’t force you to let me take care of important issues like your termite treatment on that house while you were gone.”
“That wasn’t your job, Dad. I should have hired someone to manage the property.”
“I should have just taken over. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it, except Louisa never really appreciated my finer qualities so I didn’t feel welcome at her house.” He shrugged. “I did hear some gossip the other day.”
Emma closed her eyes, sighing. An overly curious farming neighbor had always kept himself up-to-date on Nan’s doings, too. “Something to do with Hank Kuchar hearing Noah’s car grind up my driveway?”
“He thought I might want to know that the jerk who jilted you was dropping by early on a Saturday.”
“I jilted Noah, Dad.”
“After his father threw you down the stairs and then blamed it on you?”
“He didn’t throw me. He was too close to Nan, and we both tumbled down the stairs. But I am glad you take up for me when you hear that lie.”
“I told you not to leave then. People thought you started that whole mess at your grandmother’s. On Thanksgiving morning. That was a scandal that took some chewing.” He took the card from her hand. “Why did you hire Owen Gage to work on your house? You’re not trying to catch Noah’s attention again, are you?”
She shouldn’t have come back, even for a visit. “If there’s a worst to think around here, someone will think it. Noah assumed the same thing, as if I’d repeat my worst mistakes. I can manage my life without you or Noah trying to point out where I go wrong. I can hire my own contractor and buy my own stepmother a stroller for my half sister.”
Brett caught her sweater sleeve, pulling her to a stop in the wide, not so crowded aisle. “Don’t call your sister that. Megan’s hoping you’ll be able to accept her without the half or step, or whatever it is.”
Emma brought her hand to her father’s to reassure him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. She will be my sister. My whole sister. I’m looking forward to spoiling her.”
“How will you do that if you don’t stay?”
They reached the counter, and she pushed the little Take-Me card across the counter. A woman in clothing and jewelry Emma wouldn’t be able to afford if she sold her termite-ravaged house for an unexpected windfall ran a scanner over the price tag. She also took Emma’s credit card, bringing it close to her face to inspect it.
“I’m supposed to ask for a peek at your ID, but as long as you’re with Councilman Candler...” she said, her simpering even more offensive for its underpinning of sincerity.
Even her father stiffened. Bliss had more than its share of good, honest mountain people, but it also offered work to plenty of stuffed, appearance-conscious shirts.
“This is my daughter, Mrs. Link.”
“I’d heard she’d left...” The woman broke off as if she’d realized she shouldn’t share everything she’d heard. “Speaking of which, my husband told me Dr. Gage presented his updated proposals to the council again. When will that arrogant man learn?”
Emma kept her expression neutral. Even her father’s mouth looked pinched. Noah could be arrogant, but this woman was just stirring up trouble. She was the sort of person Emma had dreaded meeting when she came back to the little town, focused on creating appearances to bring in big tourist money.
Emma signed her receipt as a purple-aproned clerk brought the new stroller, already unfolded and ready for service, to the front of the store. Emma took the handles and maneuvered it through the shop doors.
“I feel their eyes on me.”
“You’re fine.”
At her dad’s Range Rover, they had to consult helpful drawings on the carriage’s tags to learn the mysteries of folding a stroller. At last they managed and hoisted it into the back of his vehicle.
Emma took her seat beside him in the front. “What’s that woman’s