The Family Plan. Gina WilkinsЧитать онлайн книгу.
can help me choose the things I’ll need to keep on hand for Isabelle.”
Still looking a bit confused about how she had become his assistant for the evening, Caitlin wrinkled her nose. “You’re looking at someone who eats take-out for nearly every meal. My usual purchases are coffee, bagels and ice cream.”
“I like ice cream,” Isabelle commented, catching the end of Caitlin’s comment as she climbed out of Nathan’s car with his assistance.
“And I like ice cream, but we have to buy some healthy food, too.” Nathan took her hand. “Surely between the three of us we can gather the stuff to put together some healthy meals.”
“I’ll help you,” Isabelle offered. “I went to the grocery store all the time with Aunt Barb.”
Nathan smiled at Caitlin over the child’s head. “Sounds like we’ve got a shopping expert here to help us out.”
Caitlin fell into step beside them. “I’m sure we can use all the help we can get.”
Rows of silver metal shopping carts waited just inside the supermarket doorway. Nathan lifted Isabelle into one of the plastic seats, then grasped the handle and guided the cart toward the first aisle. Caitlin stayed close by, saying little but seeming agreeable to help with this necessary task.
They looked like a family.
The thought occurred to Nathan abruptly as he and Caitlin strolled down the aisle side by side, pushing Isabelle in front of them. And then, for the first time, he wondered what he would say if someone they knew saw them looking so cozy. He had known when he brought Isabelle home with him that explanations would be inevitable, but it wasn’t going to be easy.
“Maybe I should have talked to my mother before coming out in public like this,” he murmured to Caitlin, suddenly feeling as if eyes were focused on them from every direction.
“Maybe you should have thought of that sooner,” she replied, setting two jars of applesauce in the cart.
“Maybe we’ll get out of here without seeing anyone we know.”
The look she gave him was skeptical—and rightly so. Honesty wasn’t that big, and he had lived here all his life. He rarely stepped out of his house without running into at least one person he knew.
He drew a deep breath and concentrated on the shopping, hoping he wouldn’t be spotted by anyone likely to call his mother before he had the chance to talk to her.
Other than his concern about potentially awkward encounters, he might have enjoyed the shopping trip. Isabelle was delightfully serious about helping with the selection process. Caitlin was obviously, if reluctantly, charmed by the little girl—who wouldn’t be?—and she revealed a softer side of herself, one that she usually kept hidden at the office.
“Do you like cereal, Isabelle?” she asked, studying a dizzying array of colorful boxes.
“Yes. Cereal’s good for breakfast.”
Nathan reached for a chocolate-flavored puff cereal, figuring every kid must like that flavor. After all, it was the one he usually bought for himself.
“Not that one, Nate,” Isabelle admonished him. “Too much sugar.”
Caitlin laughed. Nathan placed his hands on his hips and cocked his head at his sister. “What brand would you recommend?”
Isabelle placed a fingertip against her rosy lips, studying the offerings. “That one,” she finally decided, pointing to a box of bite-size wheat squares. “I like those.”
Moving down the aisle, they added boxes of flavored instant oatmeal and bags of dried fruit to the cart, both heartily approved by Isabelle. The next aisle held cookies. “I suppose we need to pass these?” Nathan suggested. “Too sugary, right?”
Isabelle frowned. “We need some sweets,” she said earnestly. “A little doesn’t hurt.”
He grinned. “Just point to what you like.”
Isabelle happily selected a bag of chocolate chip cookies and some pink-frosted animal crackers. He’d have bought out the store at that point, if she’d asked, just because she was so darned cute.
He’d better be careful about that, he thought, or she just might get the idea that he was a soft touch.
Moving on to the canned goods, Nathan stood back and watched while Caitlin and Isabelle debated the relative merits of chicken noodle soup or chicken and stars. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling; they made a lovely picture as they focused so intently on the display of red and white cans.
His smile faded when he heard his name spoken from behind him. “Nathan? Is that you?”
His eyes closed in a spasm of emotion. Of all the rotten luck….
He turned. “Hello, Aunt Betty.”
She wasn’t actually his aunt, not by blood, anyway. She had been married to his father’s uncle, which made her his great-aunt by marriage. But she had never let such distinctions deter her. Betty McCloud enjoyed nothing more than bossing around the younger members of her late husband’s extended family.
A very large woman—nearly six feet tall and well over two hundred pounds—the seventy-five-year-old former loan officer had a voice like a bullhorn. Several nearby shoppers glanced their way when she asked loudly, “So, what’s up? Doing some grocery shopping?”
Resisting the impulse to make a smart-aleck remark to that very obvious question, Nathan merely nodded.
Betty’s attention had already turned to his companions. “The law partner, right? Kate?”
“Caitlin,” Nathan corrected her.
Caitlin’s smile was only slightly strained. “Hello, Mrs. McCloud. It’s nice to see you again.”
Her hawk-like eyes zeroing in on Isabelle, the older woman asked, “This your little girl? Didn’t know you had one. She’s a cutie.”
Uncertain how to respond, Caitlin looked at Nathan. “I, uh…”
It might not have been the noblest choice Nathan could have made, but he decided to take the easy way out. Escape.
“You know, it was great to see you, Aunt Betty, but we really have to hurry. I’ll call you soon and explain everything, okay?”
“Explain what?” she asked, frowning at him.
He merely smiled and pushed the cart so quickly away that Isabelle’s fine hair ruffled in the resulting breeze. Her eyes big, she gazed up at him. “Who was that?” she asked in a stage whisper.
“That was my great-aunt Betty. Yours, too, I guess.”
“She’s loud.”
Nathan nodded. “I know.”
“She thinks I’m Miss Caitlin’s little girl.”
Nathan avoided Caitlin’s eyes. “I know. I’ll explain to her later.”
“But why…?”
“What kind of fruit juice do you like, Isabelle?” Caitlin asked quickly.
Isabelle seemed to debate for a moment whether to continue her line of questioning or allow herself to be distracted. But then she conceded and requested apple juice.
Staying well ahead of Betty, Nathan practically jogged down the rest of the aisles, tossing food items into the cart until it nearly overflowed. He kept his eyes focused on the shelves, operating on the theory that if he didn’t see anyone else he knew, they wouldn’t see him, either.
Caitlin helped him pile his purchases on the conveyor belt at the cashier’s station. He paid the sizable bill with a bank debit card, then pushed the cart full of now-bagged groceries toward the parking lot. A golfing buddy hailed him just outside the door; Nathan waved and kept moving, successfully avoiding