With a Little T.L.C. Read Free

later.
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    Joe sat in a gray plastic chair at a long table in the front of classroom 2 and watched Liz. Wearing navy slacks and a matching blazer with a bright yellow sweater underneath, she looked stylish and professional as she stood at the door greeting everyone. Women filed in, most of them carrying infants, all of them looking tired.
    He studied Ms. Liz Anderson. She was a little thing, which had wounded his male pride when she’d yanked him out of Rosie’s room by his ear. But it was that moxie that had gotten his attention. She was attractive, but not one of those women who gave men whiplash when she walked down the street. Her hair, an ordinary shade of brown, was cut pixie short. Which suited her. Big hazel eyes dominated her small face. If he had to choose a word to describe her it would be cute.
    The next one that popped into his mind was wary.
    With him a few moments before, she’d been pleasant enough, but he’d bet all of his profit shares inMarchetti’s, Inc. that she didn’t want him in her cuddlers program. She expected him to welsh on his promise. His gut told him there was more to it than that. Which made him wonder why she’d asked him to sit in on the parent’s support group.
    He noticed that her manner with the new mothers was warm and pleasant. Everyone got a hug. And when she looked at the babies, her face grew soft, with a glowing tenderness that made her beautiful. He wondered if she had children of her own. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring—he’d made it a point to look. But that didn’t necessarily mean she was attached—or unattached.
    â€œI guess we should start,” Liz said, walking to the front of the room.
    Several new mothers holding their babies sat around the long table, blankets, diapers and bags placed haphazardly on chairs in between them. They watched Liz as she made her way to the lectern with the chalkboard behind it. Joe sat in the chair closest to her.
    She met his gaze. “We have a guest tonight. Ladies, this is Joe Marchetti. He’s interested in joining the cuddlers program here at the hospital.”
    He nodded to the women settling themselves. Some were discreetly nursing their infants. Some were standing, rocking from side to side. The lucky ones sat with sleeping babies in their arms. “Hi,” he said. He’d never understood the expression “fish out of water” better than he did at this moment.
    Liz cleared her throat. “We’ll leave the door open. There are always stragglers. You all know that with a new baby there’s no guarantee of getting anywhere on time.”
    He leaned over to her and whispered, “Would any of those stragglers happen to be fathers?”
    â€œThis is a new mothers’ support group.” Liz shrugged.
    â€œAh,” he answered. “I guess I just assumed some dads would come along.”
    â€œSometimes they do,” she said. “And they’re always welcome. But in most cases, women are the primary caretakers, and the one whose life is most impacted with the responsibility of caring for and feeding the infant. Which reminds me. Andie, how are you doing with nursing Valerie this week? Is it going any better?”
    â€œI think so.” A dark-haired woman on the other side of the table spoke up. She had circles under her eyes, and a denim shirt that looked as if it had spent several weeks at the bottom of the ironing basket. “I called some of the people you suggested, Liz. I think Val has a shallow latch and as long as I make sure she’s secure, I’m not as sore.”
    Joe concentrated on sitting still and looking impassive. All of this was the most natural thing in the world. His sister had nursed in front of him without embarrassment. There was no reason to be uncomfortable.
    â€œGood.” Liz nodded at the woman with satisfaction. “Anyone have any questions, problems they’d like to bring up for