The Great Baby Caper (19 page)

***

It was past nine p.m. before they
finally got out the door and Mark drove them toward her apartment. “What a
great evening,” he commented. “Courtney, I love your family. I found every last
one of them to be delightful.”

“Obviously, they were all quite
impressed with you, too,” she replied.

He glanced at her in bemusement.
“Is something wrong?”

“You have to ask that?”

He sighed. “You mean you’re
annoyed because I agreed to the reception?”

“Ah, so you remember. You agreed
for
m
e.”

“
For us both
. Courtney, it
would have been rude of us to refuse your mother’s invitation.”

“I’m not saying we should have
refused outright. I’m saying you should have discussed it with me first. We’re
supposed to be equal partners in this marriage, and decide things together.
That’s why I wanted more time to get back to my mom.”

“I don’t think that’s the issue at
all,” he countered. “I think you’re just angry because we have to have a
reception in the first place.”

“Mark, I’m angry because you took
charge of me, as you’ve done several times now. And I find that unacceptable.”

He shook his head in disbelief.
“As if I really could take charge of you . . .”

“Mark, it’s true! You try to do it
all the time. You speak for me. You did so at dinner tonight, and earlier on
with Jason.”

“What do you mean, with Jason?”

“Don’t be coy, Mark. You told my
brother-in-law that I’m pregnant, didn’t you? And after you promised me you
wouldn’t.”

He went pale. “I did nothing of
the kind.”

“Yes, you did. Brittany spilled
the beans.”

“But she couldn’t have. Courtney,
what did she say?”

“Something about Jason saying the
two of us would likely have a baby now, and you laughing and whispering
something back to him.”

“And that’s why you’re so miffed?
Courtney! All I said to him was ‘one never knows.’”

She gave a rueful laugh. “You
think that wouldn’t tip off a pack of amateur sleuths like my family?”

“What would you have had me say?
Perish the thought?”

She groaned. He had a point. “I
just didn’t want to announce it yet—”

“Because you don’t want this
baby?”

Courtney died a little inside at
that. “Mark, we’ve already been over that. You know I want the child. Just
because you and I are having problems doesn’t mean this baby isn’t wanted.”

He flung a hand outward. “Great,
then. It’s me you don’t want.”

“Now you’re twisting things
around.”

“Am I? Then why all the damn
secrecy about our child?”

Helplessly she clenched her fists
in her lap. “Mark, we’ve been over that, too. If we don’t make it . . .”

“Right,” he concurred bitterly. “
If
we don’t make it
. That ought to be our song, eh?”

Stung, she couldn’t reply.

He shot her a dark look. “Courtney,
all I asked was to be given a chance, and you’re not even doing that.”

“Mark . . . I’m trying.”

“Are you? Seems to me you’ve been
fighting me every step of the way. I think we need to have a talk. A long, long
talk.”

Frustrated though she was, Courtney
nodded. “Perhaps we do, but not tonight.”

“Courtney, I must insist—”

“I said, not tonight. I just can’t
. . .” Taking a deep, bracing breath, she repeated, “Not tonight.”

He didn’t press the issue further,
stopping to let her out at the door to her apartment. As she left his car, she
could feel his intense gaze following her.

***

Driving home, Mark cursed under
his breath. He was trying so hard to win over Courtney, but she greeted his
every move with suspicion. Why did she always assume the worst of him? Was it
because she assumed he was cut from the same cloth as his grandfather?

He was also dismayed that she’d
seemed so tense tonight. She had a wonderful family, but she’d hardly been
caught up in the celebratory mood. Holding the two birthday boys had been the
highlight of the evening for him, making him conjure dreams of holding his own
child one day soon. But Courtney had seemed distant from the rest of her
siblings, even from their young children.

Despite her protestations to the
contrary, more and more he suspected that she didn’t want him or the child in
her life, had never really wanted either of them. She might speak differently,
but her actions were those of a woman fighting to keep her distance. Her
accusing him of trying to take charge of her seemed another effort to push him
away. Even if he was being too domineering, it was only because he was so
scared of losing her.

Well, they were in this together
now, man and wife, for better or worse. They would soon have a child together.
And he was determined to break through all the barriers she would throw up
between them.

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Several weeks later, Courtney sat
at her desk, numbly staring at the August edition of their corporate
newsletter, inanely called
The Bootle Babble
. The headline read: “BBB’s
New CEO Weds Chairman’s Grandson.” In the lead article, her promotion was
mentioned in passing, almost drowned out by news of the nuptials, including
numerous quotes from M. Billingham Bootle voicing his approval of his
grandson’s choice for bride.

To make matters worse, the
centerfold was plastered with at least a dozen photos of the wedding reception
Courtney’s parents had thrown ten days earlier. M. Billingham had dispatched
the corporate newsletter editor, along with the photographer, to cover the
event. Courtney eyed the gushing snapshots: her and Mark kissing, cutting the
cake, and opening presents; M. Billingham grinning from ear to ear, with his
arms around both Mark and Courtney; Courtney’s dad leading all assembled in a
toast; Mark being mobbed by Courtney’s cheerleader girlfriends from high
school; Vanessa and Courtney’s mom passing out rice bags.

Damn M. Billingham for having the
audacity to gloat so! The article and photo spread screamed “happily ever
after,” making Courtney feel like the worst kind of hypocrite.

With a sigh, she studied a
snapshot of her and Mark feeding each other wedding cake. He appeared
delighted; she looked tense, her smile frozen. Another indication that the
atmosphere between herself and Mark remained strained. Indeed, three weeks
after their return to Denver, the two still lived apart, and had made little
progress in resolving the issues of their marriage . . .

“Mrs. Billingham?”

Courtney glanced up, startled. She
still hadn’t quite gotten used to being referred to by her married name. Her
young assistant, Deb, a slender brunette in her early twenties, stood in the
open doorway. Courtney quickly folded the newsletter, shoving it beneath one of
the ever-increasing piles of paperwork on her desk. “Yes, Deb?”

The young woman’s expression was
anxious. “I think we have a problem.”

“Tell me about it,” Courtney
replied dryly. “I just completed a conference call with our attorneys and
investment bankers, and learned how very far behind we are on the initial
public offering. Barring a miracle, I’m not sure we’ll ever get all the SEC
filings done in time. Our chief legal officer promised to FAX over a revised
time-table and summary of remaining problems to be addressed. Is that what
you’re referring to?”

“No, I’ve received no FAXes for
you this afternoon,” Deb replied. “The problem is with the opening of the north
Colorado Springs store.”

“You’re kidding,” Courtney said,
waving a hand in disgust. “I’ve got two other openings behind schedule, but I
thought that was the one opening that was going off without a hitch.”

“Well, they’ve got some very
unhappy campers there,” Deb replied.

“Unhappy? Why?”

Deb gave a shrug. “I don’t know.
The manager insisted you come see the situation for yourself. She sounded very
rushed and said she couldn’t explain further.”

“Damn,” Courtney muttered. “I
don’t have time to rush off to Colorado Springs this afternoon. Get Erica on
the phone for me, will you, please?”

“Sure.” Deb ducked out.

Two minutes later, Courtney’s
phone rang and she grabbed it. “Yes?”

Deb replied, “I’m sorry, Mrs.
Billingham. All lines, including the manager’s cell, are tied up.”

“Darn. Thanks, Deb.”

After both she and Deb tried
numerous more times to get through to the store, Courtney gave up on waiting at
headquarters. She retrieved her car from the parking garage, zipped over to the
freeway, and began the sixty-mile trek to Colorado Springs. Although it was a
bright summer day, she was feeling much too preoccupied to even take note of
the dramatic face of the Rockies rising to the west of her.

What on earth could have gone
wrong with the store opening? Courtney knew the manager, Erica Lindsey, very
well; she was a seasoned veteran with more than fifteen years with the company
and ten years’ managerial experience. It was out of character for her to call
and insist the CEO come to the store herself. Indeed, Courtney hadn’t even
worried about the opening, because she’d known Erica was so capable.

Whatever had gone wrong there, the
initial opening of the store had been “soft,” and at least the formal
celebration wasn’t scheduled until this weekend. That’s when all the ads would
run, and door prizes would be offered. Hopefully this little disaster would be
cleared up by then and they wouldn’t have to cancel the press party, or the
actors they’d hired to wear animal costumes and entertain the children.

But nothing in her life had gone
smoothly of late, not her career or her marriage. She frowned, remembering the
tensions between herself and Mark lately. Although they’d put on a good show at
the reception, the other times they’d met had been strained.

To be honest, she really missed
Mark, missed their closeness on Mackinac Island. But she needed to feel secure
about their future and her feelings for him before she gave herself to him
again.

At the mall north of Colorado Springs, Courtney parked her car, rushed in a west side entrance, and sprinted
over to the boutique with its prime location next to a large anchored tenant department
store. From an initial glance at the store’s façade, all seemed normal. The
“Grand Opening” banner was prominently displayed over the entrance, and the
front windows were charmingly dressed: in one, the “Bootle Baby Pram,” a
classic English-style black baby carriage that was their premiere product, was
stuffed with a collection of plush toys—bunnies, bears, lambs, puppies, and
kittens. The opposite window boasted an adorable display of the “Bootle Baby
Layette Collection,” the ever popular basics in white with pink or blue trim,
including the elaborate and much-celebrated Bootle Baby Christening Gown
designed years ago by Vanessa Fox, and still handmade and imported from
Ireland.

A step through the open front
doors revealed an upscale baby boutique with racks of expensive clothing and
baby shoes, as well as a small section of baby furnishings, including cribs,
dressers, high chairs, strollers, and playpens. The decor itself was
understated elegance—pale blue walls with murals of storks, teddy bears, and
baby carriages, and white trim.

Then at the cash register,
Courtney spotted three mothers with small children huddled around the
middle-aged manager, Erica Lindsey, and a rather bewildered looking clerk.
Approaching the women, Courtney was bemused to spot a hand-printed sign taped
to the back of the register: “Sorry—Store Closed Until Further Notice.”

Noting her approach, Erica Lindsey
flashed Courtney a relieved smile. “Oh, Ms. Kelly—that is, Mrs. Billingham—I’m
so glad you’re here.”

Before Courtney could respond, one
of the mothers, a slender blond with a two-year-old girl in her arms, stepped
forward. The little girl, precious with her full-cheeked face and brown pony
tails, appeared anything but happy.

“Are you the woman they called in
from corporate headquarters?” the child’s mother demanded.

“Yes, I am. How may I help you,
ma’am?”

“Well, you can explain why your
company is terrorizing my child.”

“Terrorizing?” Courtney replied
blankly. “With baby clothes?”

Now a second mother came forward
tugging along a little boy who appeared about three. “Yes, and you’ve upset
little Tommy, too.”

“We did?” Courtney glanced down at
the somber little boy with his dark blue eyes and black hair. Finding that he
reminded her somewhat of Mark, she smiled gently. “Did we upset you, sweetie?”

He nodded vigorously. “Yes, I’m
’set.”

The third mother, carrying a baby
girl about nine months old, joined the others. “My little Jennie isn’t happy,
either.”

Courtney glanced about the group
in mystification. “But what could we have done?”

The female clerk stepped forward
and handed Courtney a pair of boy’s overalls in a size four toddler. “I think
she’s referring to this, ma’am.”

Courtney examined the overalls and
could find nothing wrong. “What’s the problem?”

The mother with the infant grabbed
the overalls from Courtney and held up the tag. “This. If it’s a joke, let me
assure you these children don’t find it funny!”

Courtney stared flabbergasted at
the tag. At first glance it looked like a BBB stock sticker, round and made of
tan, recycled card stock. But she soon realized the color was slightly off, the
tag a fake. But that was hardly the most glaring anomaly present—for a large
orange “Grumpy Face” sticker had been superimposed on the tag. She grimaced at
the sight of glaring eyes crisscrossed by angry red lines, wild hair
surrounding the round head, and a fiercely frowning mouth opened to reveal
fierce, jagged yellow teeth.

“Yuck!” Courtney exclaimed without
thinking.

“That’s just what my little Tommy
said,” put in the boy’s mother.

“Yuck!” repeated Tommy, making a
face at Courtney.

The child’s expression was so
comical that Courtney had to struggle not to laugh. But before she could
respond to the boy, the baby pointed at the face, curled her lower lip, and
began to cry. Then the two-year-old girl joined in, and even little Tommy
appeared on the verge of tears.

“See what I mean?” asked Erica.
“These stickers have upset every child who has come in here today.” She nodded
toward the clerk. “One of the mothers even screamed at Janet here.”

“Oh. Sorry, Janet,” Courtney told
the clerk.

“What about us?” demanded the
woman with the baby as she bounced the child to quiet her.

“Of course I apologize to you, as
well. But I’m wondering . . .” Still feeling mystified, Courtney examined the
tag from several angles. “What on earth . . .?”

“Somebody apparently substituted
these tags on at least half of our merchandise,” Erica explained. “All the bar
codes are wrong, too. Most of them won’t even ring up. One did, charging a
grandmother nine hundred and eighty-nine dollars for a tooth-fairy pillow for
her grandchild.”

Courtney could feel all color
draining from her face. “You’re joking.”

“No. She was going to report us to
the Better Business Bureau until I just gave her the pillow.”

“This is a nightmare,” muttered
Courtney.

“So what are you going to do about
our children being terrorized this way?” asked Jenny’s mother.

By now the three children had
quieted down, though all still appeared pouty and were staring at Courtney
suspiciously. “Ladies, again, I’m really sorry.” She turned to Erica. “You have
a pair of scissors?”

“Sure.” Appearing bemused, Erica
handed Courtney some scissors.

Courtney held up the overalls.
“Which one of you was going to buy these overalls?”

“I was,” said Tommy’s mother.

Courtney clipped off the tag and
handed the woman the overalls. “With our compliments and our apologies.”
Briskly she turned to the clerk. “Janet, would you find this lady a shirt to go
with these—and throw in a stuffed frog for Tommy?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“A free shirt and toy, too? Oh,
thank you,” declared the mother.

Courtney turned to the other
ladies. “What were you ladies shopping for?”

“A new crib?” asked the baby’s
mother hopefully.

“Please, anything within reason,”
Courtney replied diplomatically.

The woman laughed. “Actually, I
was kidding. We were shopping for new baby shoes.”

“Then be our guest. With a stuffed
lamb for the baby, too.”

She turned to Jenny’s mother. “And
you?”

“We need a new Sunday dress.”

“A frilly dress it is.” She
tweaked the little girl under her chin. “And a stuffed kitten for Little Miss
Beautiful here.”

By the time the children and
mothers were ushered out of the store with their prizes, all their faces were
wreathed with smiles. Erica, Courtney, and the clerk posted a “Temporarily
Closed” notice and locked the store’s doors. Then Erica released Janet to go
have lunch.

“Courtney, thanks so much for your
help,” Erica said afterward.

Courtney pulled one of the trimmed
tags from her jacket pocket and shook her head. “You’re welcome. Do you have
any idea how this happened?”

“I haven’t a clue. You know how
rushed we’ve been with the opening. I understand the Aurora distribution center
hired a special crew to package everything up in time, then we hired temps to
stock the shelves here. Unfortunately no one noticed the grumpy faces until
after we opened. We might have kept the store open anyway, but nothing was
ringing up right.”

“Darn. Just hang tight and I’ll
look into this. And I’ll send some people down from corporate to help you
re-tag the merchandise.”

“Thanks, Courtney. Hopefully we’ll
get everything cleared up before the official opening this weekend.”

“I’m sure we will.”

The two women said their goodbyes,
and Courtney left. Driving back toward Denver, she got busy on her cell. First,
she called up their distribution manager in Aurora and explained the situation.

When she was finished, there was a
long silence, then Hank Pearson said, “
Grumpy face
stickers? You’ve got
to be kidding.”

“I’m afraid I’m not. I know we tag
the merchandise there at the center. Can you explain how the renegade tags got
on the product?”

“I have no idea. I know we were
rushed and we hired a crew from Woodrow Temps to help pick and pack everything.
I believe they did most of the tagging, but no one noticed anything out of the
ordinary.”

“Do you have the agency’s number?”

“Sure. Hold on a minute.”

Courtney called the temp agency,
where an assistant manager informed her that, yes, they had received the work
order from the Aurora distribution center for a dozen temporary warehousemen.
But the contract had been cancelled at the last minute.