The Cottage on the Corner by Shirlee McCoy Page A

decided Gertrude and Kenny were in the pot-growing and selling business. No way would she be able to change his mind. “Fine. Come on the deliveries with me, but you can’t spend more than ten minutes at the sheriff’s department. I have to make a few dozen cookies for a PTA meeting, and I’ve got to bake those cakes this afternoon, too.”
    â€œLemon chiffon. My wife used to make it,” he said as he put his plate and coffee cup into the sink. “Come on, Zuzu. Let’s clean you up a little before we go out. We wouldn’t want the town to think Charlotte doesn’t know how to take care of a child. You have extra clothes for her?” he asked as he lifted Zuzu.
    â€œMax didn’t bring any.”
    â€œThe man is an idiot,” Zim muttered. “We’ll have to make do. Hopefully nobody will notice that she’s wearing pajamas. You know how people in town are. They catch a glimpse of a child wearing pajamas out in public, and they assume the parents are inept.”
    â€œWe’re not her parents,” Charlotte pointed out.
    â€œDoesn’t matter. She’s been entrusted to our care. You have a comb in your bathroom? I can at least do the child’s hair. Maybe if she looks cute enough, no one will notice what she’s wearing.”
    Charlotte didn’t know how they would not notice. The footy pajamas had smiling cars and trucks all over them. They were faded and old. Zuzu hadn’t been wearing a coat when Max dropped her off. Just the blanket. If she and Zim got her out of the vehicle there wasn’t one person in Apple Valley who wouldn’t notice that.
    â€œA brush. There’s probably a couple of ponytail holders on the counter,” she responded, but Zim was already walking out of the kitchen and she didn’t know if he heard.
    It didn’t matter. He could brush Zuzu’s hair. He could make cute little pigtails or curl the ends around her chubby cheeks. He could do a whole variety of things, but someone in town was going to see the poor kid. When that happened, there’d be all kinds of gossip and talk. More than likely there’d be a collection, too. Clothes and toys and all kinds of things that a little girl needed that Max might or might not have at his place. He wouldn’t be happy. She didn’t know him well, but she knew he wouldn’t want charity.
    Not Charlotte’s business.
    She’d agreed to babysit because Max had been desperate and because she was a pushover. Too nice for her own good. Brett had told her that dozens of times. He’d been more right than she’d known until after he’d died.
    She’d been trying to change. Toughen up, close herself off to other people’s demands, create a nice safe environment to grow and heal in. No was supposed to be her new favorite word. According to the author of Building Brick Boundaries That Can’t Be Busted, Charlotte needed to practice saying it every day until saying no became more comfortable than saying yes . At that point, she would finally be free of her need to make others happy at the expense of her own needs and desires.
    â€œNo,” she muttered, glancing at the egg-stained afghan and floor.
    â€œNo,” she said again as she washed Zim’s plate and mug. “No, no, no, no. NO!”
    Yeah. She was getting pretty good at saying it.
    When no one was around asking for anything.
    Throw in a good-looking cop with heavenly eyes and sinfully sensual lips, and she forgot the word even existed.
    â€œLoser,” she muttered as she grabbed the boxes of baked goods.
    â€œWhat’s that?” Zim asked as he carried Zuzu back into the kitchen. He’d scooped the child’s hair into a ponytail that listed heavily to the left. Obviously, his hair-brushing skills weren’t what they’d once been.
    â€œWe have to get moving. I need to be at Ida’s in five minutes.”
    â€œThen let’s go.