Bea was sitting up with her feet on the floor now. She scanned the room. What would she do with an eight-month-old for two hours? What kind of toys did he like? She was pretty sure he couldn’t walk yet, but was he crawling? She eyed the sharp edges of the coffee table. This house was definitely not babyproof.

Amber texted again.

Please?

Bea shook her head. She couldn’t refuse to help her only friend. Surely she could keep one baby safe for two hours.

Sure. Bring him over.

Amber’s response was immediate, as if she knew Bea couldn’t say no.

Be there in ten.

Bea was on her feet already. Ten minutes? She had ten minutes to prepare for a child? Her heart did a funny little swoop as she pictured Hunter’s face. She needed to do a sweep of the house to look for hazards. She needed to check the kitchen for food suitable for a baby. She needed to pee.

Why did Jeremy have to pick this morning of all mornings to be gone?

She slid her phone into her back pocket and put her hands on her hips. She could do this. She was a grown-up. She had her own baby coming in just under seven months. She didn’t need Jeremy’s help.

“Dad?”

Hunter pulled himself to a standing position using the coffee table for support and banged his hand on the wood surface. Bang, bang, bang. He stopped, widened his eyes in surprise, then did it again. Bang, bang, bang.

“Should I stop him?” Bea sat on the floor behind him, ready to intervene. “What is he doing?”

Her dad grinned at Hunter. “You like to make noise, don’t you, buddy?”

Hunter bounced and banged, drool running from his mouth.

“He’s fine.” Dad set a blue plastic cup on the table in front of Hunter. “It’s just what kids do.”

After a number of attempts, Hunter grabbed the cup by the rim and brought it to his mouth.

“No, don’t.” Bea reached over to pull the cup away. “That’s dirty.”

Hunter’s face scrunched up, and he took a deep breath.

“It’s fine, B.B.” Dad quickly gave the cup back. “It’s not going to hurt him.”

It was too late. With his mouth open wide, Hunter began screaming. And screaming. Bea’s neck and shoulders tightened. Amber had assured her Hunter hardly ever fussed.

Dad scooped him up. “It’s okay, buddy. Look, you can have the cup.”

He tried to put the cup back in Hunter’s hand, but the kid would have none of it.

“What do we do?” Bea asked.

Other girls her age had made money babysitting during their high-school years, but Bea had always worked at the Food Farm. And since she didn’t have any cousins or nieces or nephews or anything, her childcare experience was painfully limited.