A/N: I don't own what you recognize. And a huge thanks to all of my reviewers! I appreciate you so much.

Little Elinor quickly distinguished herself as being very much so my daughter. She looked like me, and as George was more than willing to remind anyone who cared, she acted like me. She was strong-willed and she had no interest in sleep if there was fun to be had. However, she did sleep well when she actually slept. She could sleep in four or five hour shifts-if she wanted. But, like I said, she was my daughter, and sleep was not her highest priority.

However, she was also like me in that she was willing to surrender to George pretty easily. George could make that baby girl fall asleep like rubbing butter on a bald monkey. It just came naturally to him. Every time that I couldn't get her to fall asleep, he could just pick her up, settle himself in the rocker, sit there for a maximum of thirty minutes, and our daughter was peacefully asleep. I swear that man knew witchcraft when it came to that little girl. I also hoped that this magic touch would last long into toddler years and beyond. I was hoping that this magic would last for at least the next eighteen years.

In the true spirit of family and togetherness, George and I spent Elinor's first Thanksgiving with my mom, stepdad, and sisters. It wasn't an ideal celebration, but I knew I had to do what was best for my family. I had to make people happy. And since we were taking Elinor to England for Christmas, we had to make an appearance with my family for Thanksgiving.

My mom adored Elinor. True, she has other granddaughters, but they don't live in the area. They're not easily accessible. My daughter was easily accessible. I had seen more of my mother in the month between Elinor's birth and Thanksgiving than I had in the previous three years. She even volunteered to babysit my daughter at least once a week when I went back to work. And my mother was infinitely preferable to my father in that she had not once made a comment about the extra thirty-five pounds of baby weight I hadn't lost yet. My dad, on the other hand, was very concerned about the fact that I hadn't lost all of my pregnancy weight in the first four weeks of Elinor's life.

"You look great, Emma," Bella told me when George and I came in with Emma. "Seriously, you look great for having had a baby four weeks ago."

"You're just saying that to be nice," I replied as I hugged her.

She laughed. "Honey, you're in better shape than I was five weeks after Norah was born. I'm still carrying a good chunk of my baby weight, and Grace is two and a half."

I smiled. "And you're still gorgeous."

"The point is that you seem to want to lose your baby weight more than I wanted to lose mine. George says you've taken up running."

I nodded. "It's more like jogging in place, but I find that I like it. It's a nice stress release."

Bella smiled. "I'm glad. I'm glad to see that you're doing well post-baby."

"It almost makes me want a baby," Cassie pronounced as she came into the room.

"I thought that was what Elinor was for," I replied. "In fact, I'd far rather that my daughter motivates you to reproduce rather than the state of my body."

My sisters both laughed. "Come on," Cassie said. "Mom is looking for us. And our husbands are alone with John."

We found our husbands in the kitchen with all of the grandchildren and my mom. Grace and Norah were playing in the breakfast nook while George was holding Elinor. I grinned at the sight of my husband, the man I love, holding our daughter in his arms. While my brother-in-law was leaving his children to their own devices, my husband was being an involved parent.

"Emma, my darling," my mother beamed as she hugged me and kissed my cheek. "How are you? You look wonderful. And little Elinor looks wonderful. You look like you might actually be getting more than three hours of sleep a night. When Bella was a baby, I didn't get more than an hour at a time. You're so lucky."

"Breathe, Dianne," John ordered my mom. "Take a breath and let Emma think."

I smiled as my mom sighed. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm just so excited to see little Elinor."

"She's not your first grandchild, Mom," I said.

"I know." Mom threw a loving glance at Gracie and Norah. "But she's the newest one. And she lives close by so I get to see her the most."

"Doesn't it stand to reason that you would be spending more time with Gracie and Norah today then?" my stepfather asked.

My mom shrugged. "Maybe, but right now they're playing and I'm trying to get dinner ready to go on the table. And it's easier to ooh and aah over the baby while I'm doing that."

"Dianne, I love you, but you're crazy."

"You're not going to like this, but you're a lot more like your mom than you are like your dad," George told me on the way home.

"I'd rather be like my mom than my dad."

My husband gave me a sideways look. "Really? I thought you didn't like your mom."

"I'm not her biggest fan. None of us kids are. I mean, she left my dad for John." I spat my stepfather's name in the same way that someone might say a swear word. "I've never understood that. But at least she's not a hypochondriac who tells her children that they're fat."

George smiled. "Your dad means well."

"I understand that. I just wish that his good intentions could come across in a more positive manner, in a manner that doesn't sound quite so insulting."

"He does love you, Emma. He's just not always the best at showing it."

I sighed. "I know. I just want something more for me, for Elinor."

"I promise that I will do my level best to make sure that Elinor has something better from me. But I can also guarantee you that I'm not perfect and I might screw up from time to time."

I smiled. "Sometimes, George, I think that you might actually be too perfect. I'm not sure if you're real. Or maybe you're hiding some deep, terrible secret flaw."

"Sometimes I forget to floss my teeth."

I rolled my eyes. It was about the only thing I could really do with my husband sometimes.

Early the next morning, I went for a long walk while Elinor was sleeping and George was keeping an eye on her. It might sound odd, but I love Ann Arbor in November, and I wanted the chance to enjoy it. I love the crisp breeze and the crunch of leaves under my shoes. It's relaxing. And running in my neighborhood could keep me away from any potential Black Friday craziness. Downtown gets crazy on Black Friday. And yet, somehow, I have a standing agreement with Betsy that I will help her out in the shop on the Friday and Saturday after Thanksgiving. I even volunteered to help her that year. She said that I didn't have to since I was only four weeks post-baby, but I said I would still come. Elinor could hang out in the pack-n-play with Natalie, and I could make myself useful.

When I got home, I found a shirtless George in bed snuggling a contented Elinor. "I fed her and changed her," he informed me when I came into the bedroom.

"Aren't you cold?" I asked.

"Nope," he replied with a smile. "I'm a living furnace."

"I thought guys outgrew that after adolescence."

He shrugged casually. "I didn't. Come on, Em. You've lived with me for more than three years. You share a bed with me. You should have noticed that I don't wear shirts unless I am socially obligated to do so."

"George, you are preposterous."

"And you love it, darling." He had a terrible smile on his face. It was cocky and self-assured. And it was, in fact, something I loved. I loved his confidence and his (almost arrogant) firm belief that he was right and his life was on the right track. I loved his firm belief that he was always right-even when I knew him to be wrong.

Since Elinor's birth, I had begun to occasionally question whether or not I really wanted to be a full-time professor any more. I began to wonder if I might not be happier in a career that allowed me to have more access to my daughter. I knew that I couldn't leave the university until the end of the academic year, but I was starting to think about the possibility of stepping back a little bit professionally. It was a decision that my twenty-three-year-old self would have wanted to kill my twenty-nine-year-old self over. But my twenty-three-year-old self didn't know how much she loved George and she'd never met Elinor. She didn't realize how much one little baby could change my life and open my heart. Suddenly, being Mommy had become far more important to me than being Dr. Woodhouse, professor of British literature. But at the same time, I knew that I couldn't just give up working completely. George wanted to buy a house, and to buy a house in the kinds of neighborhoods where we wanted to live we needed two incomes.

I spent about six hours at the Knit 'n' Lit that day. Elinor slept through most of the day. I loved working there. I loved all of the personalities of Betsy's employees. Jamie Malloy, the college girls, Mark-it's a great group of people. I also loved that Betsy and Mark had gotten to know their customers. I loved how Jamie could look at a regular and know what they would want to drink. I knew that George and I needed to talk about our future soon. And that idea scared me a little bit.

That afternoon, I was surprised to see Hattie and her boyfriend, Rob, in the Knit 'n' Lit. Hattie isn't a knitter or much of a reader. But, admittedly, she does like coffee. And she was very excited to see me. "You haven't met Rob yet, have you? I know he hasn't met Elinor yet, and he has to meet Elinor. She's the dearest little baby on earth. Everyone should have a baby like Elinor."

Before Rob or I could say anything, she dragged him over the pack-n-play to see Elinor and Natalie. Natalie, even to me, was more entertaining than Elinor. Elinor, for all of her cuteness and sweetness, was asleep. And there's only so much entertainment you can derive from a sleeping newborn when there's a very alert eleven-month-old sitting next to her with a stash of board books.

"I want a baby," Hattie informed Rob.

He looked at her, more than a bit dazed. "You want a baby?"

"Babies are cute," she replied brightly.

He sighed. "Okay, so you can go visit Elinor."

"I want my own cute baby."

"Some people have ugly babies," he offered clumsily.

"But we wouldn't," she replied firmly, putting a hand around his arm.

He looked at her like she was a flesh-eating monster. "We? Us? Have kids together? We've only been dating since summer. I have to finish my doctorate before I think about kids. I'm not ready for kids or marriage or commitment."

"But sweetie, I love you."

Rob looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. And then, he said the four most dangerous words a man can say to a woman. "We need to talk."

"About what?" she squealed.

He sighed. "I would rather not have this discussion in public."

She sighed and stomped her foot. "Are you dumping me? This sure sounds like dumping. I don't need to be dumped again this year. I was already dumped once this year. I thought we had a good thing going."

"Let's not do this in public."

"My gosh, you ARE dumping me."

Rob put a tentative hand on Hattie's shoulder. "Honey, I don't want to do this in public. Let's go back to your apartment."

"Why? So your ghost can haunt me forever? Every time I move, I'll see you dumping me. How can you do this to me?"

Rob sighed again. "Hattie, I don't want to do this like this. I don't want to have this conversation in public."

Tears were pouring down her cheeks. "You're dumping me! You don't love me."

"Well," Rob hesitated.

"I knew it!" she screamed.

"Should we tell them to leave?" Betsy asked.

I nodded. "We probably should. But I know that would only make her mad at me."

"I know. And I'm really not in the mood for ticking her off."

"But we really should get them out of the shop. This is bad for business," I said.

"Let's have Jamie take care of it."

I smiled. "That sounds like a brilliant idea."

Jamie did ask them to leave. Hattie hit him. But they did leave, thankfully. I knew that I would be hearing about the whole thing soon enough. I would hear about how I didn't stand up for true love and how broken-hearted poor Hattie was. I felt badly for her, but it wasn't my fault that she had behaved like a complete fool in public. Yes, we all make mistakes, and we all do stupid things. But Hattie really had gone too far. It wasn't that surprising; it was part of her personality.

I don't know. I really don't know. I love Hattie; she's a dear girl. But she can be a fool. She makes decisions in the heat of the moment that aren't in her best interest and ends up in a world of trouble she never planned on.

When Elinor and I got home, we found her daddy looking at houses online. "We need to move," George pronounced after I kissed his cheek.

I smiled. "Is this news?"

"No, but I'm thinking it needs to happen sooner rather than later."

"George," I said slowly as I sat down and settled Elinor in my lap. "We don't have time to look for a house or to pack up our stuff and move."

"We could make it work," he replied casually. "It would be rough, but we could make it work."

"When does our lease end on this place?"
"May," he replied.

"Then let's wait until then. We can survive here for five more months."

"Survive, yes, but it won't be fabulous."

I sighed. "We've lived in survival mode before. And Elinor probably won't be crawling by May, and she definitely won't be walking. We will be fine."

"When did you become the rational one, dearest?"

"When it was necessary," I replied. "You're being ridiculous, so I have to balance you out."

He laughed. "I love you, Emma dearest. And I'm not entirely sure how I ever survived without you."

"Oh, you survived," I said with a teasing smile. "But until you moved in with me, you didn't truly love."

"Oh shut it, Em."

"Or what?" I asked with raised eyebrows.

"I'll just have to silence you myself."
"I'm always willing to learn a new lesson."

George smiled and leaned over to kiss me.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please review.