Catherine Willows didn't know what to expect when she arrived at Nick Stokes's townhouse. From what she could gather from his hurried speech, his twin sister had abandoned her infant son on his doorstep. To her it sounded like a Lifetime movie of the week and was sure he was pulling her leg.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," he admitted. "I need your advice."

Catherine almost suggested that he get that baby out of his house before it was too late, but poor Nick sounded just so distressed. She promised to come as fast as she could.

Nick was sitting on his couch, Ryder drooling like mad in his lap, when the doorbell rang.

"It's open!" he called, knowing it was Catherine.

The front door opened and closed. "Hello?" rang Catherine's voice.

"Living room."

Catherine's footsteps were quick. She appeared in the living room dressed in a pair of beige slacks, a matching pink-and-beige striped shirt and stylish brown leather ankle-boots. As soon as she set eyes on Ryder, she lifted her sunglasses onto her head and couldn't help but coo, "Well, hello there, little man."

"Thank God you're here," Nick gathered the baby up and stood. "I need help."

"You sure do," Catherine smiled and gave the baby a tiny wave. "Hand that little prince to me and go change your clothes."

Nick looked down at his outfit and remembered he was still in his pajamas, a pair of boxers and a sweatshirt. "Oh yeah," he said sheepishly. "I got distracted…"

"What's his name?" Catherine asked as Nick transferred the baby to her arms.

"Rachel's note says Ryder," Nick replied, leaving the room.

"Hello, Ryder Stokes," she said to Ryder as he was settled. He was an endearing baby; he looked, Catherine imagined, as Nick probably did at this age.

Catherine stood outside Nick's bedroom door as he changed into some real clothes, listening to the complete story and getting some background on Rachel.

"So, I never knew you had a twin," she said as she tickled Ryder's tummy. He harshly grabbed at her fingers and sucked on them. Catherine was reminded of Lindsey, also a finger-sucker. He had a nice grip on her hand, enough to make her flinch.

"Didn't know it was hard-hitting information," Nick replied, his voice muffled from behind the door, slightly ajar.

"Do you look alike?"

"All of John and Maureen Stokes's brood look alike. They would mix up me and my brother Joe constantly and with the girls, forget about it."

"It must have been nice to have all those older sisters and big brother looking after you all the time. I bet Rachel was practically your bodyguard."

"You know, I was usually the one to come to Rachel's rescue. She's always been trouble. She's not a bad kid, though. I never thought she would do something like this. She would have told me if she had a kid, right? I mean, nothing for the past two years and now this? I don't even know how old Ryder is."

"I can tell you precisely how old he is," Catherine answered.

"You do? How?" Nick opened his bedroom door, wearing dark blue jeans and a tan ribbed tee.

"His gums are swollen," replied Catherine, as if this answered everything.

"So?" Nick asked, impatiently.

"That means he's teething. He's five months old."

"Teething?"

"Yep. We aren't all born with a perfect grill. I can tell he's been drooling a lot. Has he been gnawing on anything he can reach? Fingers, keys?"

"My keys," Nick nodded.

"Got any toys before this little vampire ruins my manicure?"

"Oh…yeah, yeah, Rachel packed some things…" Nick passed Catherine into the living room, where the emptied diaper bag and its contents still resided.

"She left him with a bag?"

"And just a bag. Granted, it's full of useful stuff but, I dunno…"

Catherine observed the objects from the bag and her face became pensive. "Well, I'll tell you one thing—those diapers and wipes aren't going to get you anywhere. You better stock up. The clothes and blankets and toys are okay. The food you'll need to stock up on, too. I have a recipe book, however, that I used with Lindsey when I was trying to save money: homemade baby food."

"Homemade? Who do you think I am, Martha Stewart?"

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Nick, if you have a blender, you can make baby food. It's cheaper, not to mention healthier than this stuff your sister tossed in here."

"When am I gonna find the time to—"

"And he's teething now, so he shouldn't be eating baby food twenty-four seven. A carrot or a cucumber slice wouldn't harm him, her can gnaw on that without hurting himself. Cheerios are great, too."

"He still needs a place to sleep," Nick blurted.

"You don't have a crib?" Catherine shifted the baby to her shoulder and plucked the cloth bib off the arm of the sofa and placed it underneath Ryder's chin.

"Why would I have a crib? Damn it, Cath, I've never even been married, how am I gonna take care of a baby?"

"That's why you called me, isn't it?" Catherine raised an eyebrow. "I just so happen to still have Lindsey's crib in my basement somewhere. I'm not gonna lie—it's pink. But I don't think Ryder will care, won't you, cutie?"

Nick didn't want to fathom the idea of a pink crib in his house but he was desperate. "Can you go get it?"

"You can," Catherine reached into her pocket and tossed Nick her house keys. "I'll baby-sit." She settled onto the couch and sat Ryder up in her lap. Nick stared at her, still standing, hands on his hips. "What? It shouldn't be hard to find, it's still in its original box. You look like you don't want to be around the baby one more second."

Nick surrendered. "Fine, I'll go. Lindsey's not home, is she?"

"No, it's a school day. It should be off to the…right side, I think? If you can't find it, gimme a ring."

Nick reluctantly left the house, with one last look over his shoulder at Catherine cradling Ryder. He hated to admit, as he closed the door behind him, that he was already beginning to miss the little guy.