Page 16 of The Omega's Beary Merry Christmas

“You’d be a good papa.” She wasn’t even looking at him, still devouring her food. To her, it was a case of not keeping inside thoughts inside, but that didn’t make it appropriate.

I nearly choked, her words unexpected. That was not the kind of thing you told a near stranger, especially not one we were imposing on in this way.

“Natalie.” I was firm but not harsh. She didn’t know better. That wouldn’t change how it made him feel, but still… “That’s not table talk.”

“But he would.” She half shrugged. “He would be such a good papa.” Then she turned to him and doubled down. “Why don’t you have kids, Mr. Bert?”

Bert’s eyes widened, and he looked to me for help.

“Natalie, that’s not polite,” I said firmly.

She looked down at her plate and grabbed the last piece of French toast. She was embarrassed, and I felt bad. I rode such a fine line being a parent.

“It’s okay.” Bert placed his hand on mine and then pulled it right back, almost as if he hadn’t realized he had done it. “Natalie, the reason I don’t have any kids is because I don’t have a ma—a husband. While some daddies are really, really good at being daddies all by themselves, I’ve always wanted someone by my side.”

“Oh.” She wiped her butter-coated finger on her napkin. “Daddy was like that too. He had Father.” She put her fork down.

“How about you wash all the cinnamon and butter off your face and get dressed?” I suggested.

“Then we can color?” She directed her question to Bert.

“Yes, then we can color.” He was going above and beyond any host expectations, even if we’d rented the room, which we hadn’t. He was doing this simply to be nice.

She hopped out of her seat and went to the bathroom to clean up.

“I’m sorry about that. She’s not so great with the filter.” Or, more accurately, she didn’t have one.

“Oh, don’t be sorry. I didn’t mind. Sometimes life doesn’t go the way we plan. I’ve always wanted to be a dad, but it just hadn’t work out that way so far. Hearing her say she thinks I’d be good at it—that was nice.” He stood up with his plate. “Do you want some more French toast?”

“No thank you. It was delicious though.”

He reached for my dirty dish.

“Remember the rule. You cooked—”

“I know, I know. You do the dishes,” Bert said with a grin. “I’m at least going to clear the table.”

He did that while I filled the sink.

Natalie came back out with her coloring things and settled at the coffee table near the fireplace to get to work.

“Listen, I need to go to town to get some parts for the other cabin. Do you want to come?” he asked.

“The roads?” I had assumed we were good and trapped.

“They aren’t great, but I’ve got chains for my tires. And rumor has it there’s a little Christmas fair going on in the village.”

“Can we go, Daddy? Can we?” Natalie’s voice carried from the other room.

I hadn’t even realized she’d been listening, although I should have.

“Yeah, we can go.” If Bert thought it was safe, it would be. Of that, I was sure.

My car wouldn’t have made it in the snow we’d gotten, but Bert piled us into his truck and navigated the hill as if it were a sunny summer day. I quickly discovered why I hadn’t seen thetown before—it was off on a little side road a couple of miles from where we were staying.

The town was adorable, like something out of a greeting card. The snow didn’t seem to be keeping anyone away. The shops were open, the sidewalks were cleared, and people were going from store to store, many of them while singing. Each shop appeared to have something special set up.

Natalie’s favorite part was the town passport. It was basically a little note card, and each shop you visited gave you a sticker. If you got all the stickers, you earned a bookmark at the last stop. From her excitement, you would have thought that bookmark was made of gold.

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