Winter Baby Bump & Grind (Seasons in Montana: Winter)

9. Melissas Epilogue

nine

Melissa's Epilogue

THREE MONTHS LATER

“ L ooks like another screaming success, Mel.” Kelsey surveys the weekend Baby Bazaar at Brewbirds Coffeeshop with strollers lining the outside of our patio while families stop in for a drink and browse through what the local moms are offering up in their pre-loved items sale.

“Thanks,” I say, as I finish ringing up another customer. I nod at Ryan, who’s meandering among the stalls with his arms full of clothing, stuffed animals, and what looks like an enormous breastfeeding pillow. “Do you mind if I wrap up a little early today? Ryan arrived five minutes ago, and I can already see he’s getting ready to buy everything that woman’s got on her booth. I keep telling him we don’t need to have everything right away, but he’s convinced we’re not prepared. He keeps telling me we need a game plan.”

She snorts. “I don’t think anyone’s ever prepared for babies. Certainly not two of them at once.”

I flash a smile. “Well, it’s not exactly how I would’ve planned it.”

“But it’s all worked out for the best, right?” Kelsey catches her lower lip between her teeth. “You’re happy?”

“I’m stupidly happy.” I undo the ties of our newly designed and branded Brewbirds apron and stash it in a cupboard under the register. “And even better, my family is thrilled to see how well I’m thriving here. The pressure’s off now that they’ve seen I actually love what I do here and that I’m settled.”

“Good, good. I’m glad.”

I glance up at her tone, surprised that for once, Kelsey sounds distracted. “Are you happy?”

“Me?” she squeaks. “Oh, sure. What’s not to be happy about? The shop is always packed, thanks to your creative calendar, and we’re more in demand than ever.”

“There’s more to life than the shop, Kelsey.”

“Oh, I know. But for the last six months, this place has basically been my life.”

I study her for a moment and risk opening my mouth. “Sounds lonely.”

“What? No. I’ve got you, Dani, Sloane, and Lily to keep me company. What more do I need?”

“A partner?” I suggest gently. “Did you ever sign up for that matchmaking service you mentioned?”

Kelsey waves a hand, muttering, “Oh, don’t get me started. What a waste of time that was. Go on, now. You better get going before Ryan cleans all the booths out.”

I turn and catch sight of Ryan examining a baby walker. “Oh, god. Ryan! Ry, we don’t need that just yet.”

Hurrying to his side, I smile at the mom behind the table and gently pry the walker out of Ryan’s grasp. “Honey, we have more than a year before we need these.”

“But we’ll need two of them, Mel. There’s no harm in preparing in advance.”

I tuck my arm in his and steer him away from the array of toddler toys and toward the quilted playmats and handcrafted blankets that Mrs. Sanderson and her friends created with some help from the kids they’ve been teaching. “We should think about things like blankets, onesies, playmats. That kind of thing.”

He frowns. “We’ve already got four blankets. How many more do we need?”

“Well, a few more can’t hurt for travel, or if they throw up all over one, or have a blowout.”

He makes a face, then turns to Mrs. Sanderson and her neatly folded stack of granny square blankets and sweaters. “Right. Hello, Mrs. Sanderson. Did you make all these?”

“Oh, yes, some of them. We worked on these during our yarn craft group. But don’t you worry, I’ve been working on something special for your two little ones.”

“Aww, that’s really sweet. You didn’t have to do that,” I say.

Mrs. Sanderson waves us off. “I knew right away. Didn’t I tell you?”

Ryan turns to me. “Tell you what?”

A flush creeps into my cheeks as I recall the day I brought her one of Sloane’s cinnamon buns and the drink Ryan paid for. She teased me then about “that good-looking young man” making eyes at me and how if she’d been fifty years younger, she’d give me a run for my money.

“I knew you two would get together the second I saw that love-struck look on your face when you saw her,” Mrs. Sanderson says, pointing at me. “Plain as day, the love and adoration in your face.”

“Yeah?” Ryan grins and leans in, speaking in a stage whisper, “Jeez, Mrs. Sanderson, you could’ve saved me a lot of trouble by telling me back then.”

She draws back, swatting at his hand. “And where’s the fun in that? Men ought to figure out how to earn the love of their women and keep hold of ‘em. You hold on tight, you hear me? She’s a good one.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ryan answers solemnly. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, gripping his arm and leaning up to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek. Love shimmers through me as I rest my hand on my belly and look from Ryan to the shop to the mountains beyond. “This is home.”