This Baby Business. Heatherly Bell

one comment from a weary parent looking for advice. Or hope.

      As usual, she squeezed the words out one by one. She’d put a sentence together, living by spellcheck, and hoping her grammar was decent. It was never simple, not for her, and felt like being in high school again. Insecure. Inadequate. This wasn’t what she should be doing with her life anyway. She’d always wanted to pursue graphic arts or fashion design. That was in her blood and, though hard work, was something she could do well. She’d gone away to school to the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York City. Everything had been going so well there, too, but then even that had blown up in her face. Something she didn’t want to think about right now.

      Giving up on the words after a few minutes, she padded into the spare bedroom and her sewing corner—the place where dreams went to die. The half-dressed mannequin wore part of the design she’d been working on before Pearl passed away. Despite her failure, she’d kept at it, the pleasure at creating never completely leaving her. Only her confidence had been shattered. And unfortunately, her fashion prowess, should she manage to get it back, would not be of much help when it came to the world of baby products. But frankly, if she had to choose between an empty screen and playing on her sewing machine, the choice was a no-brainer.

      It had been far too long since she’d torn something apart and put it back together again. Levi had been right in that the red baby dress was beautiful but impractical. She’d seen a lot of that in the months since she’d taken over RockYourBaby. Carly held up another one of the baby dresses from the lot that had been shipped to her.

      She cut into the dress, ripping seams and removing sleeves. Found a piece of a soft white cotton with a flowery print that she’d bought at the fabric shop in town the last time she’d been in there. Seemed like ages ago. She could replace a velvet sleeve with a cotton one. Carly went to work cutting out pieces and holding them up. Okay, weird. But somehow it worked. She held it up and admired the juxtaposition of solid red velvet and flowery cotton print. It still needed...something. Maybe ribbon or lace.

      She’d always loved this part of fashion. Seeing something in a brand-new light. Satin and denim...leather and lace. She had no doubt it was what she’d be doing right now if she had a choice. She could do it all right here from her sewing machine. One thing for sure—she didn’t want to run RockYourBaby.com. That was her mother’s dream, and Carly couldn’t hang on much longer.

      Finally, Carly finished and forced herself away from her sewing machine to trudge to the computer screen. She leafed through the baby bible for almost an hour but found nothing inspiring to give to her readers. Nothing to turn their boring, mundane lives into something interesting, or even to remind them that what they were doing was important. She imagined that when it came down to it, raising a baby was all about routine and not much about fun.

      What was that saying about a picture being worth a thousand words? A thousand words were really all she needed for this post. Grabbing her high-resolution camera, Carly took photos of the baby outfit she’d just sewn together. Not bad. She downloaded them to her laptop and uploaded them to her blog. It looked okay, frankly, even without any words. She hit Publish.

      Grace wailed, awake from her nap. When Carly reached the crib, Grace had rolled over onto her stomach from her back. What’s more, she looked immensely pleased with herself, her chubby little legs kicking.

      “Daahh...dah,” Grace said, then blew a raspberry. “Bff.”

      At least Carly had the diaper changing routine down. It hadn’t taken long to figure out as it wasn't exactly rocket science. She’d done her share of babysitting younger cousins years ago. And some baby care, she had come to realize, was so routine that it could be a little mind-numbing at times.

      Maybe they needed a change of scenery. She could take Grace for a walk. Not exciting, but at least it got her outside the house after months of nearly hibernating. Jill and Zoey, her two best friends, had tried to get her to go out more, but Carly hadn’t much wanted to go out and celebrate being young and alive when she’d still been grieving.

      But today, she needed a diversion. Carly rummaged through her closet and pulled out her distressed short overalls. She rolled them farther up at the hem and paired them with a white T-shirt and her broken-in flat brown leather boots. A long-brimmed black fedora completed the look.

      “There.” She felt like a new woman, or more like her old self.

      Carly then spent the next two hours taking Grace for a stroll around the neighborhood and to the nearby park in the lightweight umbrella stroller rated as the most portable and functional by Baby Today. They were the standard in the industry, and Carly hoped they would consider buying RockYourBaby for top dollar. Time was running out.

      Last night, she’d checked in with Kirk and asked to speak with Dad.

      “He’s having a bad day,” Kirk had warned.

      That was always code for “He’s not talking to anyone and being a pain in the ass. He won’t do his exercises.”

      “I’ll try back tomorrow.”

      Mom’s death had hit them all hard, sure, but none harder than their father. He regularly fought with the therapists who were trying to get him to rehabilitate his hip and wasn’t the man Carly remembered anymore. He’d always been her biggest supporter. Her protector. When Carly had wanted to go to New York City and study design, instead of something far more practical as her mother had suggested, it was Daddy who had supported Carly’s decision. He’d smoothed things out with Pearl. And he’d smoothed again, double time, when Carly had returned from the Big Apple a big fat failure.

      Grace squealed. She seemed happiest outside, distracted by the outdoors. Entranced by flowers, trees, dogs and children playing. Carly stopped to pull out her phone and take several photos of her. She was a cute baby. Long dark lashes and blue-gray eyes. Toothless smile. Maybe Carly could ask Levi for permission to use Grace as a baby model for the website. Holy cow, she was totally rocking the great ideas today. She could dress Grace up in cute outfits she created and post photos of her on the blog. Another way to avoid actual words.

      Grace fell asleep on the way home, and she was still asleep when five thirty rolled around and Levi pulled up outside. A person could set a clock by the guy.

      She met him at the door. “She’s still sleeping. Want to come in and wait?”

      “Yeah.” He stepped inside. “Might as well let her sleep.”

      How exactly did he manage to look like sex on a stick at the end of a long day? He had this whole badass look going on, late-afternoon scruffiness over his jawline, making her want to rub against him like a cat.

      Bad, bad Carly. “I wanted to talk to you about something anyway.”

      “Oh, yeah. I haven’t had a whole lot of luck finding another sitter. I’ll make a few calls tonight.” He followed her into the family room.

      “That’s not it. I need a favor.”

      “Done.”

      “You don’t even know what it is yet.”

      He gave her an easy smile. “Doesn’t matter.”

      “Be careful, Levi Lambert. You never know what I might ask.”

      “Bring it on.” His eyes filled with obvious male appreciation.

      She was reminded of her bare legs. The look he slid her was so full of heat that she thought her panties might spontaneously burst into flames. Focus, Carly, focus.

      “I want to put photos of Grace on my website. I took some cute ones today.” She took her phone out and showed them to him. Shots of Grace staring with delight at a tree as if she’d just discovered them. Smiling as she watched a child playing ball, staring wide-eyed at a woman walking her poodle down the street.

      “You took her to the park. She loves it there.” Levi didn’t take the phone from her but instead held her wrist and brought the phone up closer.

      Her stupid wrist tingled as if it thought it might