The Best Christmas Ever (4 page)

Now, though, Sarah had to wonder if perhaps Amy hadn’t fallen in love with Justin.

Actually, she didn’t want to think of that possibility at all. She didn’t want to know. She corrected herself. Yes, she
did
want to know but didn’t think she’d like
the answer. She blushed, aware she shouldn’t feel this way unless she was still attracted to the man!

Forcing her mind from those thoughts, she started toward the stairs to start lunch. Justin had said he’d be home by two and she wanted to make sure she couldn’t be accused of easing off, even the first day of work.

“I’m home!”

The shout came from downstairs. Sarah smiled. “I’m up here, Mickie.”

The little girl came clattering up the stairs. Sarah met her in the hall. Mickie halted abruptly and her expression turned shy. “Where’s Daddy?”

“He’s at work. Didn’t he tell you?”

Mickie twisted her right foot from side to side. “I thought he might be back by now.”

Sarah smiled at the little girl and started to reach out for her.

“You left last night without saying goodbye,” the little girl admonished, stepping back so she could look Sarah in the eyes.

Sarah blinked, her smile leaving her face. Kneeling in front of Mickie, she took her hands. “That’s right. I did. I didn’t want to wake you. I’m sorry if it made you sad.”

Mickie shrugged. “Mama did the same thing.”

Sarah’s heart twisted.

Mickie raised her questioning gaze to Sarah’s. “Daddy said you’re going to be living here. You’re going to be the new housekeeper, and you’ll make me peanut butter sandwiches with grape jelly. Is that what you were doing up here? Moving in?”

The innocence of children. Sarah nodded. “I’m going
to be in the old housekeeper’s room in case you ever need anything. And yes, I’ll be taking care of you when you’re home from school.”

She stood and held out her hand. “But I have to wonder if your daddy said that part about grape jelly-and-peanut butter sandwiches.”

Mickie wrinkled her freckled little nose. “Well, actually, Daddy said peanut butter sandwiches, but I like the grape jelly so I added that.”

Her little hand warmly clasped Sarah’s as they started down the stairs. “Well, what if I get you a snack of crackers with peanut butter and grape jelly then I’ll make whatever you want for lunch. Your daddy will be back by then and we can have a big meal, then a smaller one tonight.”

“You’ll be here tonight?”

Sarah didn’t pause, though she shuddered at the insecurities the young child must have felt since her mother’s death. “I promise.” Changing the subject, she asked, “What do you want me to make for dinner?”

In the kitchen she found the peanut butter and set it out with crackers while Mickie found the jelly.

“Fried chicken.”

Sarah paused in scooping out the peanut butter into a small bowl. “Fried chicken?” She should have limited her offer to anything baked. She hated frying.

“And a chocolate coconut cake for dessert.”

Sarah shook her head ruefully. She should have known. Amy had had a sweet tooth, too. “Well, I can do the fried chicken, but I’m not sure about the cake.”

Mickie frowned. She studied the crackers before looking back up at Sarah. “Chocolate coconut cake is
my daddy’s favorite. The only time he gets it is if he makes it. But he doesn’t ever have time. Mommy used to make fried chicken and chocolate coconut cake for dessert. I know Daddy would just love it.” She slanted a look up at Sarah. “And so would I.”

Sarah sighed. She handed the plate of snacks to Mickie, then poured her a glass of milk. “I’ll see what I can do. So, you like coconut, do you?”

Mickie immediately denied it. “I don’t. But Daddy does. I just pick it off the top.”

So she really was thinking about her daddy. Sarah had thought the child was using a ploy. She still wasn’t sure if she was or not. But she found that right now it didn’t matter. After taking the chicken from the freezer, she set it in the microwave and punched the buttons to thaw it out. “What’s so special about today that you want to fix your daddy’s favorite meal.”

Mickie shrugged. “He can’t cook. I miss Mama’s cooking. Can’t you cook like her?”

Ah, Sarah thought. Emotions about her sister washed over her. Her sister, the quiet one, the domestic one, the one who had always been so perfect. “Not as well. But if your daddy is starving for good home-cooked meals—” Sarah winked at Mickie to hide the pain she felt “—then I suppose I can cook a few good meals for you both.”

Mickie smiled, satisfied.

Relieved, Sarah smiled back. The questions from a five-year-old who would very soon be six—in less than three months, in fact—had been harder than she’d anticipated. Still, it looked as though baby-sitting her was going to be easy. Sarah had survived her first test and had been accepted. How much harder could it be?

“W
hat in the world! Mickie, what have you gotten into?”

Sarah stared in horror at the living room and dining room. White powder dusted everything. Following the trail to the dining-room table, she found Mickie standing in a chair with toy cooking utensils, covered in white from head to toe.

“I was making a cake, since you were busy cooking chicken.”

Mickie sneezed, then wiped a grimy hand across her face, smearing the white stuff again. She shook her head and a white cloud was released from her formerly brown hair.

“But I told you I’d try to get to it!” Sarah stared blankly at the mess. It was going to take her an hour to clean this up and there was no telling when Justin would be home.

Mickie’s shoulders drooped. “I was only trying to help.”

Realizing she had hurt Mickie’s feelings released Sarah from her inability to react. She went forward and, with only a small reluctance at how dirty she was going to get, gathered Mickie in her arms. “It’s okay. Let’s go upstairs and run you some bathwater, then I’ll clean up the mess.”

“I just wanted Daddy to have a cake. He says I’m his little helper.”

“It’s okay. Really. But maybe next time,” Sarah said, going upstairs, “we should do this together. Until you can prove to me you know how,” she added, and filled the tub for Mickie.

“Mrs. Winters never would let me. She doesn’t like messes.”

“Well,” Sarah said, stripping the little girl and helping her into the tub, “I don’t mind a mess if we do it together. You see, that’s the only way to learn. Now, if you promise not to try it by yourself again, maybe next week we can make some cookies together.”

Mickie’s eyes lit with excitement. “Really?”

“Really.”

Sarah quickly washed Mickie’s hair, then allowed Mickie to finish up. When she was done, she dried her off. “Can you pick out your clothes by yourself?”

Mickie gave her an exasperated look. “I’m not a baby,” she said. “I’ll be six January 10.”

Sarah bit back a smile. “Of course. I’ll be downstairs cleaning up the dining room. The chicken is done. I only have to finish vegetables and potatoes to finish. You can go get out three plates and the silverware while I clean up and finish fixing dinner.”

Evidently, Mickie thought she had the better of the two deals, because she didn’t argue.

Sarah reentered the dining room and dismally surveyed the white mess. What to do first?

She sighed. Deciding just to wade in, she gathered the play dishes and the tin of flour, which Mickie had somehow sneaked out of the kitchen, and set them all back in their places. After returning to the dining room, she simply swept all the flour onto the floor. Then she wiped down the table and china cabinet and every other piece of furniture that looked to have received a dusting of flour.

Once she’d moved the chairs out of the way, she pulled out the vacuum cleaner and began to vacuum. Mickie came in to set the table. “Place mats and napkins,” Sarah said, nodding to where she’d set them out on the beautiful mahogany table.

Sarah had to stop twice to check the potatoes and vegetables she had boiling and then to mash the potatoes.

Then she had to change vacuum bags.

She was getting tired by the time she reached the living room. That was how she explained her accident. Why else would she trip over the vacuum cord, unless all the dusting and vacuuming was tiring her? That and the fact the vacuum cleaner Justin owned weighed almost a ton. He really should have one of those lightweight models, not the monster that made her huff with exertion when using it. Add that to the fact that she hadn’t stopped running around since Mickie had entered the house three hours ago and an accident was obviously waiting to happen.

So, it was natural that, as she swept toward the entryway, her shoe tripped her up over the cord.

She squawked in surprise and went flying backward.

Windmilling, grabbing for purchase, Sarah teetered before succumbing to gravity.
I’ll probably end up with a broken neck. Then Justin will gloat over just how unfit a parent I would make!

With one last effort to catch herself before she ended up splitting her head on the floor, she twisted. Instead of ground, a hard dark object arrested her mid-flight.

The dark object grunted.

In her peripheral vision she saw a briefcase go flying. Strong arms wrapped around her. Her rescuer teetered before both she and her victim continued their fall to the floor.

Splat.

The cessation of noise proved even more telling than her screech when she’d started down.

In the moment it took her to orient herself, she registered several things. The body beside hers was warm and comforting—one arm was still wrapped around her shoulders—and he was in good shape.

She lifted her gaze from the white shirt and tie to Justin’s sardonic expression.

She smiled weakly, wondering how to apologize.

He spoke first. “Don’t you think you’re taking this housekeeping job just a little too seriously?”

“Daddy!”

Hearing Mickie’s voice, Sarah immediately scrambled off Justin. “I’m so sorry. We had a little accident and I was sweeping. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and got tangled up in the cord.”

He stood, dusted off his suit, then scooped Mickie up in his arms. “Hiya, pumpkin,” he said, bussing her cheek.

Sarah winced at how Mickie was dressed. Blue striped shorts with an orange checked top. Justin blinked, cast a glance at Sarah, then returned his attention to Mickie.

She squeezed his neck. “Sarah made your favorite meal but we didn’t have time to bake a cake. I tried but made a mess, instead, and Aunt Sarah cleaned it up while I set the table.”

Justin raised an eyebrow and scanned the room. He hugged Mickie again before setting her down. “My favorite meal, huh?” He made a big show of sniffing the air. “Fried chicken?”

Mickie laughed and nodded.

“That’s great! Go upstairs and wash up. Let me get my briefcase and change. Then we’ll eat.”

Mickie immediately ran upstairs.

Justin gathered the contents of his briefcase and Sarah belatedly helped him. “So what’s the special occasion?” he asked as he snapped the lid shut.

Sarah fidgeted. She hadn’t expected to be questioned on what she had prepared. “I told Mickie I’d make her anything she wanted. And fried chicken with chocolate coconut cake was her choice.”

An indefinable emotion crossed Justin’s features before he sighed.

“Did I do something wrong?” Sarah asked, ill at ease with the unnamed emotion she’d seen.

“No.” He shook his head.

“I know Mickie was young when Amy died, but she still remembers Amy in her own way. Certain
things stand out in her mind, while others have faded. But one thing she remembers is one of the last big meals Amy, Mickie and I shared together as a family. It was fried chicken and a cake for dessert. Amy had made it for my birthday. It’s not that it’s my favorite, though I do love chicken. But in her mind…”

He trailed off.

Sarah understood. “Children remember things differently. I suppose remembering the special times is her way of holding on to Amy.”

Justin nodded. “Mickie had a bad experience with the last housekeeper. The woman flat refused to fry food. She said it was bad for her. So the only time Mickie got fried chicken was when I fried it on the housekeeper’s day off. I couldn’t figure out for a long while why she wanted fried chicken until one day she told me it was my favorite. The story came out and I started seeing to it that we had it whenever Mickie requested it.”

Justin went to the entry closet and placed his briefcase in there. “The only time she asks for it is when she’s feeling insecure or sad.”

Sarah looked down at her hands. “Do you think I triggered her sudden insecurity?”

Justin sighed. “It’s possible. You knew Amy. Mickie has really been missing her mom lately. Maybe she just needs to be reassured that some things will stay the same.”

“You know, I think I need to mention I hurt her last night leaving without waking her up. She said her mom did the same thing.”

A spasm of pain crossed his face. “Yeah. Amy and
I had a fight. When she left, she flew out of the house. Mickie was asleep.”

“She also asked if I could cook like Amy.”

Justin dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry, Sarah. Mickie doesn’t understand other people’s pain. She’s only a child.”

Sarah bristled. “I know that. I just thought maybe, well…to me, I guessed that she was missing her mom. I told her I’d try to make homemade meals like Amy, though I’m not as good a cook.”

Justin nodded. “Thank you.”

He turned and started up the stairs. Sarah stared after him, noting how wide his shoulders were. Wide enough to have carried the burden of losing his wife and being a single parent alone? Or had he depended on God to help him?

Sarah remembered his confessions of salvation and that was why he had changed his tune about so many things he’d always considered
woman
things. Her mother had insisted Justin had never been underhanded in business, but that after he’d been saved, Justin had felt the need to make restitution for things that had happened during the takeover, things Justin hadn’t known about.

Justin disappeared from sight and she sighed. She really didn’t want to remember how her parents had insisted Justin was a nice guy. She only wanted to be friends, make up for her past; not continue to feel guilty as more and more facets of his giving personality revealed themselves to show him as a truly caring man and loving father.

She went to the kitchen and brought out the food.
Just as she carried in the glasses of iced tea, Justin and Mickie appeared. Mickie wore pink leggings and a sweatshirt with Daisy Duck on the front. Her outfit not only matched, but it suited the nippy weather outside.

Once seated, they offered thanks for the meal, then passed the food around the table. “So, Sarah, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

Sarah flushed and paused only a moment before passing the potatoes to Justin. When he took them from her, she reluctantly met his eyes. She saw in his gaze that he knew she had no family and he’d hurt her by asking. But what could she say? Her fiancé had planned for her to spend Thanksgiving at his house. But that was before he’d told her he was taking a couple of months off to think, before the letter from Watson and Watson had made it clear she was fired—because André hadn’t had the guts to tell her himself. “I don’t know. Maybe—”

“How about you spend it here,” Justin interrupted, dishing some potatoes up for Mickie. “We don’t have anyone else coming. Bill usually stops by. I don’t know what he’ll do now that he’s married. But we’d love to have you.”

Mickie, ever tuned in to any conversation around her, piped up, “Please, Aunt Sarah. And this year we could have a real turkey instead of the one Daddy buys at the store. It was too chewy,” she added, making a face.

It was Justin’s turn to flush. “Hey, kiddo,” he warned good-naturedly, “it was either chewy turkey or going out to a restaurant. And I happen to like eating at home on a holiday, so we just might order chewy turkey again this year.”

“But you got cherry pie for dessert.”

Sarah chuckled. “Well, maybe I could make up a pumpkin.”

Mickie wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Or chocolate?”

Mickie grinned.

“Does that mean I’ve convinced you?” Justin asked, smiling.

She grinned. “Someone has convinced me…I think the part about picking up the meal held sway.”

Justin’s smile deepened and Sarah suddenly felt awkward. Clearing her throat, she began to eat.

After a few minutes of silence, Justin asked, “What are your plans for today?”

Sarah shrugged. “I definitely need to go shopping. I thought I’d get some boxes from storage.” She sipped her tea, then plunged ahead. “You won’t mind watching Mickie the rest of today, will you? I’ll be back by dinner.”

Sarah wanted time away from the domestic scene so she could come to grips with all the changes since arriving at the house. It seemed that her whole life had been turned upside down in one short day.

Sarah looked up, expecting a frown. After all, Justin had promised her Sunday to herself if she wanted it, not Saturday, and she wasn’t even sure he was done with all his work. Instead, a knowing smile met her.

“I don’t mind spending the day with Mickie for a minute. But if you think I’m going to let you work all day while we play…” He tsked. “I suggest we go with you so I can help load those boxes, then we’ll all grab something for supper on the way home.”

“No, really,” she started to protest.

Justin stopped her by shaking his head. “I insist. Besides, it’s Saturday. Saturday is supposed to be a fun day, isn’t it, Mickie?”

Mickie squealed and immediately launched into what their Saturdays were usually like.

As Mickie rambled on, Justin smiled tenderly. Sarah, however, didn’t hear what Mickie was saying.

Because when Justin turned that smile on her, she realized with a sinking heart that his smile was the true reason she wanted out of there for a while.