This Baby Business. Heatherly Bell

and operator of Pimp Your Pet. They were both moving forward with their lives and dreams, while Carly was stuck. RockYourBaby.com was definitely not the best use of her fashion design degree.

      She would never be able to move on to her own future if she didn’t sell and get out from under RockYourBaby.com. But they kept losing sponsors, the real bread and butter of her mom’s company. Carly feared she had a tiny authenticity problem. Namely, the entire RockYourBaby brand was now a bald-faced lie. She was at the helm of a company with a brand that was trusted and regarded for baby knowledge.

      Ideally, she needed to create an image that would resonate with the RockYourBaby audience. Then they might be able to sell to a larger company. Carly had already decided she’d give most of her share of the money from the sale to Kirk, to help care for their father. Their dad, Jerry, needed almost constant care these days. Therapy and medications were not cheap, and health insurance helped with only a small part of it. The sooner she could get this company’s value up and sold, the quicker her father could get adequate care.

      No pressure.

      “I say you keep looking.”

      Grace squirmed. She opened up wide blue eyes and blinked a couple of times. Uh-oh. The thing was awake now.

      Jill’s face appeared on the monitor again. “And how are you doing? What did your mom’s accountant suggest?”

      Carly didn’t want to talk about it. Patsy had suggested it was all a matter of perception and it occurred at every major firm when there was a change at the helm. RockYourBaby.com was simply no longer relevant.

      Ouch.

      Still, the suggestion was that though they’d lost some footing in the market, recovery was feasible. Her mother had created a solid brand. In other words, all was not lost. Yet.

      Grace let out a piercing wail, and Carly stood and walked out of the camera’s view to unbuckle the baby from her seat. She picked her up carefully, like she was fine china, and carried her to the table slowly so neither one of them would fall.

      “What was that?” Jill was saying. “Did you get a cat?”

      “Sorry.” Carly propped Grace on her lap and resumed the Skype chat.

      Jill stared, jaw dropped. “Um? Care to explain? What are you doing with a baby?”

      “Oh, this is my neighbor’s baby. Grace. His sitter cancelled last minute, so he came over and begged me to watch her for a day. Can you believe it? He doesn’t even know me. Rookie dad.”

      “What are you thinking, offering to babysit? Like you don’t have enough to do.”

      “First, I didn’t offer. He asked. And I’ll be able to finish my blog post with some real honest research and not just the Watch-Me-Tinkle baby doll.”

      “This is not your brightest idea. You should stick with the dolls.”

      “That’s not real research. I need to own this baby-expert thing.”

      “Well, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but that baby is about to blow. She’s puckering up for a good, loud scream.”

      Carly turned Grace so she could see her face. Sure enough, she had a stiff bottom lip and her tiny, angelic sleeping face had turned a frightening shade of mauve. She took one look at Carly and out came an earsplitting wail.

      “Oh, no!” Carly stood up with her. “How did you know?”

      “I worked as an au pair the year I lived abroad,” Jill shouted. “I don’t remember much, but I know that look.”

      “What do I do now? Help me!”

      “In order to really help, I’d have to rewind to the minute you agreed to help Hot Dad out!”

      “How do you know he’s hot?” Carly swayed and rocked with Grace on her hip. She didn’t know if that would help, but it felt like the right thing to do.

      “Just a guess.”

      Grace continued to screech, a wild and guttural sound that scared Carly. Grace’s mouth was wide-open, so Carly could see down to her tonsils, and she was sure they were vibrating. Was that even normal? What if she was hurt? She’d never forgive herself!

      “Okay. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.”

      “No! Wait.” Carly danced back to her monitor. “Are vibrating tonsils a thing?”

      “I can’t hear you.” And then Jill, Carly’s one connection to the outside world, was gone.

      Gah!

      Carly searched through Levi’s diaper bag one-handed, silently praying he wasn’t one of those parents that thought pacifiers were the devil. She found one, thank God, and stuck it in Grace’s mouth. She promptly spit it out.

      Why did Grace have to be one of the babies who didn’t like pacifiers?

      “Please stop crying, little baby. Oh, please.” Carly danced around the kitchen, but that did absolutely nothing except perhaps burn a few extra calories. “Maybe you’re hungry. Yes! Why didn’t I think of that?”

      How could such a little thing let out a scream worthy of the lead singer in a hard-core metal band? How could her lungs be big enough?

      Carly reached for a baby bottle from the fridge. Let’s see. She remembered reading about this in her mother’s baby bible before she’d done a blog post on “Bottle or Breast? Which Way Is Best?” Of course, in a million years she hadn’t implied that a mother should do it one way or another. No idiot, just like Mom, Carly vowed to stay clear of titty politics. She’d simply listed options. The bottle way was to warm one in a pan of hot water. No microwaves!

      Time slowed to a snail’s pace as she filled a pan of water and waited for it to simmer, then stuck the bottle in, while simultaneously holding a baby who was screaming so loudly Carly wondered if she’d ever regain her hearing in the left ear. She did all of this while dancing and swaying and begging. But Grace seemed immune to all the begging.

      “You looked so sweet and innocent when you were asleep,” Carly said, near tears herself. “Your daddy fooled me.”

      Carly tested the baby bottle on her wrist. At this point she’d settle for anything between arctic cold and the fires of hell and damnation. Good enough. She settled on a kitchen chair and offered Grace the bottle. She latched on to it like Carly would the last dress on clearance at Saks Fifth Avenue. Carly threw her head back in relief and sighed. Finally, blessed silence, other than the sucking sounds of Grace and her bottle. Amazing how much Carly had taken silence for granted. She never would again.

      “Yes, that’s all it was. You were hungry. Sorry, I shouldn’t have been so slow, but I was lying about being a baby expert.”

      Lying had started to come so easily these days, but that was what happened when you were pretending to be someone else.

      Or maybe it was what happened when you’d forgotten who you were.

      Boy, Grace was sucking down this bottle of milk in a New York minute. Carly tensed, worried the silence would be over soon. And sure enough, Grace was eyeing Carly as she drank her milk, no doubt making plans to unleash the hounds of hell on Carly when she finished the important business of eating.

      “Listen, this isn’t my fault. Your daddy was in a bind. Please don’t hate me.”

      Grace got to the end of the bottle, first sucking down the last dregs and then just air. Carly didn’t know much, but that couldn’t be good. She gently pulled the bottle away from Grace. She reacted by sticking out her bottom lip, scrunching up her pixie face and letting go a wail worthy of a wounded animal.

      And Carly was back to swaying, rocking and begging.

      Mostly begging.

       CHAPTER