Baby Lessons

at Aunt Alice’s big yellow house, with its crisp white trim and red brick chimney, carrying her half-dozen bags of sad apples. Moving to Vermont had been a mistake. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Things were supposed to be easier in Lovestruck. Gentler. She was supposed to have time to regroup here and breathe a little bit until the perfect job in fashion journalism came along, and instead, she’d been messing things up at every turn.
How was this possible? Wasn’t small-town life supposed to be peaceful and idyllic?
The apple disaster had been the last straw, her rock bottom. But then Alice had taken one look at the contents of her grocery bags and suggested they bake a pie. Strangely enough, it was just what Madison needed. She’d had no idea how soothing baking could be. She liked the feel of the rolling pin in her hands and the predictability of knowing she could mix sugar and butter and flour and an hour later, end up with something sweet and delicious.
It made her believe in herself again, just the tiniest bit.
“Never?” Alice’s hand stilled as she wiped down the countertop with a blue-and white-checked dishrag. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, dear. Of course you haven’t. Your father...”
Madison held up a hand. “It’s okay. I promise. Dad was great. He just wasn’t much of a baker.”
“You’re right about that.” Alice sighed. “At any rate, I’m glad I could teach you something new.”
“Me, too.” Madison stood to rinse her plate.
“And I’m glad you’re here, even if the barn apartment didn’t quite work out. You can stay as long as you like, dear. That’s what family is for.”
“Thank you.” Madison smiled.
It wasn’t the first time Alice had told her as much since she’d arrived from New York. Her aunt had repeated the sentiment every day, probably because every time she did, Madison reminded her the move was only temporary.
She didn’t this time. It felt wrong tonight, somehow.
That’s what family is for.
Was it? It had been a while since Madison herself had relied on family. She’d forgotten how nice it could feel to be part of a bigger whole.
“Actually, there’s something else I might need help with.” Madison ran a soapy sponge over her plate, focusing intently on the suds.
“Anything, dear.” Aunt Alice scooped Toby into her arms, and he craned his neck to sniff at Madison’s hair. She’d probably smell like apples for the rest of her life. “What is it this time? Peach pie? Blueberry?”
Madison wished her favor was pie related. Sadly, it was not. “My editor thinks I need to spend some time with children.”
She’d been living on borrowed time since Mr. Grant had made the suggestion, but she couldn’t keep putting it off with recipe columns. She was supposed to be the parenting expert, not a food columnist.
“Oh.” Aunt Alice’s brow furrowed. “What does he have in mind, exactly?”
“I honestly have no idea, but I have to come up with a plan. I hardly know any adults in Lovestruck, much less children.” She glanced at Toby. Did three-year-old hairless dogs count? Doubtful.
Aunt Alice put him back down on the ground so she could flip through the wall calendar pinned to the refrigerator with a Vermont tourism magnet that said I scream, you scream, we all scream for maple syrup. She tapped her pointer finger on one of the weekend squares. “You could always volunteer at the library. They have story hour on Saturday afternoons.”
“Really?” Madison brightened. An hour a week wasn’t much, but it was something. “Do you think they’d let me do it?”
Alice patted her shoulder. “I can put in a good word for you.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
Things were finally looking up.
Tomorrow’s paper would be the turning point. Madison had sent an email to Mr. Grant an hour ago, and he’d already gotten back to her. Everything was already set into motion. Her run-in with Jack Cole at the market may have been her rock bottom, but she was already bouncing back.
No thanks to Lovestruck’s finest.
“Although if you want some experience with infants, you could always come to the baby booties class I’ve got going on at the yarn shop.” Alice shot her a hopeful glance.
Madison winced. “I don’t know the first thing about knitting. Or crochet. I haven’t picked up a skein of yarn since the last time I came to visit.”
She felt terrible admitting as much. As a little girl, she’d loved spending time at Main Street Yarn, making basic knit hats on a plastic loom while Aunt Alice helped customers.
“You didn’t know how to bake an apple pie until an hour ago.” Her aunt shrugged.
Fair point. “Will there be babies there?”
“A few. But even better, there will be new moms. You might be able to line up a babysitting job.”
It was worth a shot. At the very least, she could write a column or two about knitting baby items. “Count me in.”
“Perfect!” Alice clapped her hands, and Toby let out three yips in rapid succession. “Class starts tomorrow night. I think this will be just what you need. No one needs more help than new moms do.”
And then, just as Madison grabbed her laptop and headed off to the guest room, her aunt added with a snort. “Except maybe new dads.”

Chapter Four
Dear Editor,
This letter is in response to the recent correspondence from Fired Up in Lovestruck regarding my column last Tuesday, “Five easy applesauce recipes for your infant or toddler.” According to Fired Up, the first recipe listed in the article was “bitter to the point of being inedible.”
Since Fired Up seems especially interested in the accuracy of my column, might I make a gentle suggestion? Followed correctly, the recipe yields a deliciously mild applesauce, perfect for babies. A common mistake when making applesauce is failing to remove all of the apple’s seeds. This happens most often when using a food processor, which is understandable since cooking the apples with their skin is advisable in order to keep important nutrients as well as give