Page 17 of The Billionaire's Christmas Baby Surprise

“Mostly. I also collect wish lists from any other families who want to submit one. This octopus, for instance, is for…”— Billie cross-referenced her lists —”five-year-old Lukas from Loveland.”

“Loveland is kind of far.”

“I know. Delivering all the gifts on Christmas Eve is quite a trial. But it’s worth it.”

“What’s next?”

“We need a game of Monopoly, preferably the dog-themed one. Do you see it?”

“Over there.”

Slowly but surely, the pile of gifts in the cart increased. Board games and art kits were stacked side by side with baby dolls and train sets until Max precariously balanced a princess doll on the very top.

“I think we’re out of room.”

“We are. That means it’s time to keep this cart at the checkout desk and get another.” Billie put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows. “Unless you’re ready to head home?”

“Not a chance. We still need lots of gifts.”

They parked the cart near the checkout, asking a friendly cashier to keep an eye on it, and went back for a second cart. This time, they swung through the clothing section and stopped by school supplies on the way back to the toy aisle.

“What’s next?” Max asked.

“We need a remote-controlled airplane,” Billie said.

“Oh, cool.” Max led them to the mechanical-toys section, where remote-controlled vehicles of all types stood in rows. “I would have loved one of these when I was a kid. I always made paper airplanes and tried to fly them as far as possible. When I got older, I even made them out of balsa wood, but I never had a remote-controlled plane like this.”

“Why not?” Billie asked. Then she quickly covered her mouth. “Sorry, that was rude. I just meant… your family seems to have plenty of money for nice Christmas gifts. Didn’t your parents know you wanted a plane?”

“No, they did. But my father didn’t really believe in presents. He still doesn’t. He believes that you can only really enjoy something that you buy with money you earned yourself. And he thinks that gifts create expectations and obligations.”

“Oh.” Billie bit her lip as she took the remote-controlled plane Max held out to her. “That’s sad.”

“It’s all right.” Max gave her a sideways look. “Which of these gifts would you have loved as a child?”

“Probably one of the dolls,” Billie admitted. “I was always one of those girls who carried around a baby doll and pretended I was a mother.”

Max picked up a small baby doll and handed it to Billie. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” She cradled the doll in her arms. “Does little Goom Goom look like me?”

“Goom Goom?” Max began to laugh. “Did you just name your baby Goom Goom?”

“I couldn’t think of anything!” Billie giggled. “It was the first name that came into my mind.”

“Okay, fine — except that Goom Goom isn’t a name. It’s a sound, maybe, but it’s definitely not a name.”

“Oh, sure, because you’re such an expert. What would you name this baby?”

“She looks like a Tabitha,” Max said.

“Tabitha?” Billie began to laugh again. “That’s a good name, but where in the world did it come from?”

“It just came to me. I happen to be excellent at naming things.”

“Is that so?”

“Sure. I named Bluebell Diner.”

---