Page 7 of Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty

Above me, Emma’s footsteps stomp around, then she charges down the stairs and slides into the kitchen with a wide grin on her face.

“Oh, my God.” I snort softly. “Emma, is that really the right thing to wear to go and see Grandma and Grandpa?”

She stands before me with her hands in the air, her body tucked into blue dungarees and a pink tutu visible just underneath. The puff skirt's netting sticks out at her sides through the gaps in the dungarees, and she’s placed a tiara on her head.

“Well, Grandpa always likes the tutu, but if I wear these” —Emma pats her dungaree pocket— “I can help Grandma in the garage.”

“Ahh, you are a girl of many talents.” I chuckle, motioning her forward. “Are you comfortable?”

“Mmhmm!” Emma darts forward and climbs up onto the stool next to me, then she breathes deeply. “Pasta!”

“Yes. You want to try some? Make sure it’s good enough?”

Emma nods and her face turns very serious. “We can’t bring them a bad dinner.”

“No, we certainly can’t.” Passing her a fork, I slide the empty pot toward her, where a couple of pasta spirals still sit at the bottom, covered in spicy tomato sauce. She digs in immediately, smacking her lips together, and my heart warms.

No matter how my day is or how stressful work ends up being, there’s something so heartwarming about coming home to Emma. She eats the spirals and then nods, mimicking Grandma in the way she taps her finger against her chin.

“I think it’s just right,” Emma declares. She hands the fork back to me and slides off the stool. “Oh, no! I forgot my boots!” With that, she sprints right out of the kitchen and runs all the way up the stairs.

“Five minutes!” I call with a laugh.

Dungarees and a tutu are certainly a choice, but it’s just like her to try and look her best for everyone. She’s grown up around me busy in the bakery, Grandma busy in the garage attached to the inn, and Grandpa busy with all the inner workings of the Fir Tree Inn. Three different worlds combined in one family.

As I busy about sealing the Tupperware and cleaning up the pot, my phone rings. I answer it with an awkward press of my nose. “Hello?”

“Lily!” Amelia, my best friend, bursts onto the screen with a glass of something pink and fizzy in her hand. “Oh, dear, I was calling to ask if you wanted to come over, but you look busy!”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m taking Emma to the inn. Dinner with the parents tonight.” I scrub quickly at the pot, keeping an ear on Emma’s noisy footsteps up above. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Ooh, what for?”

“For teaching Emma to walk confidently. She’s been stomping about ever since I picked her up.”

Amelia bursts out laughing and rocks away from the phone. “Oh, love, I’m sorry. I tried to tell her it was about walking tall and stuff, but I think she took me literally.”

“Do I need to be worried?” I glance at the phone. “She told me some kids were picking on her.”

“About the dance?” Amelia sobers up quickly. “It’s just kids being kids. Nothing serious, but I am keeping an eye on it.”

“Kids being kids.” I sigh. “Little brats, it sounds like.”

“Yeah.” Amelia sighs and sips her drink. “Besides, the dance is every year and Emma dances with her grandpa, right? The kids will move on quickly.”

“She’s asking questions, though.” Keeping my voice low, I glance at the door to make sure she’s not here yet. “I knew it was coming, but she’s asking real questions now. I don’t think fairy tale answers will fly this year.”

“Aw, love.” Amelia sighs. “Is there anything I can do?”

I look at her and shake my head. “No. I suppose this was inevitable. I just don’t want those kids to find out and make things worse, y’know? I figured I had at least one more year of stories to tell.”

“Kids are too smart for their own good,” Amelia remarks. “Although it really does sound like you need a drink. You sure you can’t slip away?”

“Nah. Tonight is family time,” I reply. “Besides, you look like you’re three glasses deep.”

Amelia laughs and runs a hand through her short, red hair. “Honestly. Oh, the reason I called, though.” She waggles her brows at me. “Did I see you talking to Mark in the hall?”

The memory of his oddly dry palm bursts into my mind, and I shiver slightly. “More like he was quizzing me. I got the distinct impression that he was flirting with me.”

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