Baby Lessons

knitting. “I’m Madison, by the way.”
“Thanks again, Madison. I’m Sarah.” The older woman smiled, and as she bent to tuck the yarn and needles into her bag, Madison caught sight of two infant car seats tucked neatly into the backseat of Sarah’s minivan.
She gasped. Now what, though?
Nice to meet you, Sarah. Can I borrow your babies?
Sarah let out a laugh. “My husband is home alone with our two granddaughters. They’re only six months old, so I thought I’d rush home in case he needed rescuing.”
Correction: Can I borrow your grandbabies?
Madison cleared her throat. “Wow, twins.”
“Yes, they’re precious. Honestly, they’re both the sweetest little angels. But twins can be a handful, so we try and help out when we can.” Sarah nodded and gave a tiny shrug as if Madison knew precisely how much of a handful a pair of angelic twin baby girls could be.
She didn’t, obviously. She had no clue whatsoever. If she’d had any idea at all, she never would have blurted out the words that followed. “They sound adorable. Let me know if you ever need a babysitter. I’d...um...love to help out sometime.”
Sarah peered at Madison over her cat-eye frames. “Really?”
“Really.” Madison nodded. If she could handle one baby, surely she could handle two.
How much harder could it be?
Warning bells sounded in the back of her head, reminding Madison that she’d never in her life changed a single diaper, much less two at a time.
“Well, well, Madison. You just might be the answer to all our prayers.” Sarah beamed.
I highly doubt it. And yet, Madison pasted on a smile. She’d worked for the toughest editor on Madison Avenue and lived to tell about it. She could survive a few hours with twin six-month-olds. Her career—as pathetic as it was at the moment—depended on it.
“It just so happens my son, John, is looking to hire a part-time night nanny. The mother isn’t...well, let’s just say she’s no longer in the picture.” Sarah looked Madison up and down. “I have a feeling the two of you should meet. The sooner, the better.”

Chapter Five
Dear Editor,
My sincerest apologies to Queen Bee for my comments about the applesauce recipes recently listed in her column. Upon further experimentation, I concede that her advice about removing the apple seeds was entirely correct.
However, in today’s paper readers are treated to yet another whimsical dribble of words from Queen Bee. While “Three Ways to Use Yarn to Entertain Your Toddler” seems helpful on the surface, I must ask why a professional journalist insists on writing her material in this annoying list format. Also, a mere three items hardly constitute a list.
Three? Seriously?
Sincerely,
Fired Up in Lovestruck
The sooner, the better.
They’d been Sarah Cole’s exact words when she’d called Jack at the station the night before.
Her name is Madison Jules, and I think she’s just what you’re looking for.
Jack sighed as he ran a hand over Ella’s soft, downy head and glanced out the window of the Lovestruck Bean. His mom had been insistent—he was to call the woman she’d met at her knitting class immediately for an interview.
In theory, Jack agreed. In practice, however, an immediate interview necessitated getting a substitute for the second day of his shift. He’d done so, mainly because he was well aware of how indebted he was to his mom. There was absolutely no room for negotiation. If she wanted him to do something, he did it. Plus, the guys at the firehouse were more than happy to cover for him if it meant he might get some actual help at home. He hadn’t even had to secure a sub. Wade volunteered to do it for him, so long as Jack stuck by his earlier promise to hire the next qualified applicant for the job.
So Jack had acquiesced and made the call. A few hours of phone tag with the mystery woman in question had followed, but he’d eventually scheduled an interview via text. Then he’d headed home early, tucked Ella and Emma into their baby wrap carrier and trudged down to the coffee shop to meet his possible future night nanny. And now...
Now she was late, which didn’t exactly bode well.
He rocked back and forth, keeping up the gentle motion that typically lulled the twins to sleep. It wasn’t quite working, though. Emma cooed happily, and her tiny little eyelashes were doing the slow-blink thing that meant a nap was imminent, but Ella’s little legs kicked up a storm.
“Shh,” he murmured and paced the length of the coffee shop. Maybe he should have had the nanny come to the house instead of trying to do this over maple macchiatos in one of the busiest places on Main Street.
Then again, he’d never set eyes on Madison Jules. He didn’t know the first thing about the woman, other than she liked to knit baby booties. That seemed like an excellent sign, though. It conjured an image in Jack’s head of a grandmother-type with her hair in a bun and glasses hanging from a chain around her neck. Someone whose entire life revolved around babies. Someone punctual.
He frowned and dug his phone out of his pocket to check the time. A text message flashed on the display.
Running a few minutes late. So sorry. Almost there.
The message was followed by two emojis—matching cartoon baby heads.
Jack stopped pacing.
Emojis?
He glanced out the window again, somehow no longer certain his night nanny was an actual grandmother. But that was fine, wasn’t it? Shame on him, really, for jumping to conclusions about knitters.
Everything’s going to be fine.
Ella let out a happy squeal, rousing a sleepy-eyed Emma. Jack pressed a soft kiss to the tops of their sweet little heads. First one, then the other. Then he looked back up and froze when his gaze locked on a familiar woman dashing through the crosswalk, straight toward him.
She had a halo of dark, windswept curls and warm, brown eyes—eyes that he’d seen in his dreams for several nights running. She was wearing another pair of sky-high stilettos with glossy red soles