Page 64 of Tossed into the Mob
Tony rattled off the list like he'd memorized it. “Plus backup pacifiers for when the first ones get lost.”
“Perfect timing!” Grandpa marshaled everyone into a line and gave them spoons. “I need taste-testers. We have mango and sweet potato, avocado and banana, and my favorite, roasted parsnip with a touch of vanilla.”
“Roasted parsnips?” Dad looked skeptical.
“Vanilla?” Tony sniffed one of the jars.
“Trust me,” Grandpa said. “It's very sweet.”
We spent the next twenty minutes sampling baby food as if we were at a wine tasting, with Grandpa taking detailed notes on our reactions.
“I'm going to check on how the nursery’s going before they put any more holes in the wall.”
Upstairs Treyton was on a ladder painting the ceiling while his two cousins assembled the crib. Tools were scattered everywhere, and there was a patched-up hole in the wall. Grandpa had offered to pay for a professional nursery designer and decorator, but the nursery was personal, we didn’t want strangers taking over.
Besides, the family had been so generous, especially buying Dad and me that apartment and paying for our wedding, that it felt awkward accepting another gift. Though I suspected there would be many more presents in our future.
Flint had snuck in somehow and was putting together the changing table. He was much more efficient than his brothers who were still arguing about how to assemble the crib.
“This is one thing I’m not good at.” Ranger peered at the instructions.
“One?” Flint smirked, and Hunter belly laughed.
“A little bird told me you can’t parallel park, even after trying multiple times.” I hid a smile behind my hand.
“Bah! Who’s been blabbing?” Ranger glared at my mate. “I’m convinced that’s a human skill and shifters don’t have the parallel parking DNA.”
“I can do it.” Treyton lifted his hand and dripped paint on the overalls he was wearing.
“Me too.” That was Hunter.
“And me,” Flint said.
“This human can’t, so there goes your theory.”
Ranger harrumphed and returned to studying the crib-assembly instructions.
I laughed and went to examine the children’s books covered by a sheet of plastic. There were picture books, class fairy tales, educational ones, and stories about multi-cultural families. I examined the crib mobile, still in its box, that would hang over the crib if it ever got assembled before the baby’s birth.
I unwrapped a package Madd had brought the day before. As he was a tech guy, he’d suggested books on technology, even though by the time they were published, they were almost out of date.
I got an attack of the warm fuzzies at how kind and welcoming the family had been, considering what my father had done. It cemented that I did belong here, this was my place and my extended family.
“Uncle Brock!” Lottieappeared in the doorway. “Can I help paint?”
“Of course, but not up the ladder.” I gave her a wooden picture frame and a small brush and told her to choose a color from the sample tins on the drop cloth.
She chose red and yellow and carefully dipped the brush in one small paint tin.
“Hello, hello.” Rudy had arrived, and I waddled down the stairs to greet him and Madd who was in tow.
“We brought lunch.” The pair held up bags of food. What was it about this family always overstocking? But I guessed to them, food was love, and on the plus side, we wouldn’t have to cook for a few days.
“I thought we were eating baby food for lunch,” Dad joked.
Treyton came downstairs and kissed me hello again, the tenth time today, or perhaps eleventh. I was told to sit, and everyone carried the food outside, and we ate.
I spent the afternoon in the garden with my feet up until Treyton told me the nursery was ready. He offered to take photos, but I insisted on climbing the stairs once more.
