Page 16 of Inheriting Miss Fortune

I heard a feminine snort from somewhere behind me. Tully and I turned and saw someone shopping in the row behind us. I recognized her as one of Way’s friends, JoJo Reynolds, who seemed to always be surrounded by kids.

“Do you know what this is?” I asked.

“Diaper cream spatula. Donotwaste your time or money on that crap. Use your fingers like a normal person.”

My eyes must have gotten wide because she laughed again. “Relax, Dev. Your friend’s daughter is probably too old to need diaper cream.” She leaned around me to Tully. “How old is she? Eighteen months?”

My gut tightened uncomfortably, and I felt the sudden urge to declare Lellie as my own rather than let people continue to think she was Tully’s. I opened my mouth to answer before he could.

“She’s…” I began, but then I stopped.

I didn’t know how old my own daughter was. I knew when I’d done my part, but had no clue about how long the rest of the process had taken.

Jesus. As if I needed more proof I wasn’t cut out for this shit.

I gestured at Tully to answer, but to my surprise, he seemed just as hesitant. “She’s, ah…” He glanced at me with wide eyes.

“Her birthday…?” I prompted. He’d said he’d been there when she was born, right?

“Oh.” He nodded. “February.”

“Not this February,” I argued. That was impossible. Lellie was way too big… wasn’t she?

Panic stirred in my gut. If we couldn’t come up with something, JoJo was probably going to call the cops.

“No, the February before. So she’s… yeah, fifteen months,” Tully finished lamely. “You nailed it.”

I nodded as if adding weight to his statement.

Thankfully, JoJo didn’t seem to notice our bumbling. She made a sympathetic noise. “That’s a challenging stage, isn’t it? They want to walk on their own, but they fall down at the drop of a hat, and they cry over the strangest things. I remember when JJ was that age. Total nightmare. But then you’ll look at their fat little hand and remember holding them as a newborn…” She sighed. “Next thing you know, your husband gives you a third glass of wine and talks you into another.”

I blinked at her. “That’s…”

“Probably not going to happen,” Tully finished quickly. “But thanks for the info about the spatula.”

She waved her hand. “Sure. Dev here knows if you have any questions about kid stuff, you can come to me. I’m JoJo, by the way.”

“Tully Bowman,” he said with a genuine smile. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” She looked from me to Tully and back again, and I could tell from her delighted expression that she was adding up one and one and getting… the absolute wrong answer. But she didn’t ask for clarification any more than anyone else had. Instead, she turned around and headed to a different section of the store.

“Are we done now?” I murmured, focusing on the shelf full of brightly colored baby stuff. “Surely one small human can’t require more stuff.”

“February seventh,” he said in a soft voice. “I blanked on it when she asked, and I hadn’t done the age math in a while, but it’s February seventh.”

I glanced over at him as my brain slotted his words into place. Lellie’s birthday. “Oh.” I couldn’t help but smile. “That’s…”My brother Matt’s birthday, too.I didn’t know how that coincidence had come to be, but it felt like another layer of connection between me and the wide-eyed little girl in the stroller. “Thanks.”

He studied me for a beat before nodding and turning back to the shelves. “So, no butt spatula. But we probably need more diapers.”

We moved down to the diaper selection. There were rows and rows of packages with numbers and various descriptions on them. It reminded me of the time my grandfather had first taken me to the hardware store and asked me to get a hex bolt. I’d looked at the rows of open bins of screws and fasteners with complete overwhelm. How was I supposed to know which one was the one my grandfather had needed?

“I don’t suppose we could just close our eyes and point,” I said under my breath.

“I think… I think the ones she uses come in a blue package.”

I looked at three different brands in blue packages. “Sky blue? Navy blue? Royal blue?”

“That one,” he said, pointing. “I think?”

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