The house was abuzz with quiet energy as the light filtered in through the open windows. A light floral scent from freshly laundered baby clothes clung to the air, and the distant hum of a vacuum cleaner played like a subtle soundtrack in the background.
Rebecca stepped into the foyer, carefully balancing a bag of folded newborn blankets and a box of herbal tea. “Eleanor?” she called out, only to freeze at the sight before her.
Eleanor, seven months pregnant and glowing with fierce determination, was standing atop a low footstool in the nursery—one hand gripping the curtain rod and the other directing a startled housekeeper on how to angle the mobile just right.
“Clockwise, Maria! Not counterclockwise! Babies sense the difference,” Eleanor barked, then spotted Rebecca and offered a dazz
