Page 23 of Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty

“Am I allowed in?” I grin.

Emma tilts her head and squints up at me, then she slams the stamp down onto the paper. “Proceed!”

Chuckling, I’m about to head to my room when something catches in my mind. “You’re mom’s working on a big project, you say?”

Emma nods seriously. “Big pigs in the city.”

“Do you mean big wigs?”

Emma’s eyes narrow. “No, they’re big pigs. Says so on her page.”

“Her page?”

Never have I felt so utterly useless as the moment Emma pulls my phone out of my hand, types something in, and then hands it back. The Instagram page on display is indeed for Big Pigs in the City, a butcher shop celebrating its sixtieth anniversary.

“Big pigs,” Emma states firmly. “Mommy’s making them their fancy cake.” She climbs up onto the counter and leans over my arm, then taps a few buttons and pulls up the page for Sweet Noel. A half-second of scrolling and Emma brings up some pictures of a half-finished pig made entirely out of cake. Lily poses in the picture with an icing mustache, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Wow, that’s amazing. That whole pig is a cake?”

“Mmmhmm. Mommy’s also making sugar snap bacon. I got to taste test!” Emma slides carefully back into her seat and returns to her stamping while I scroll through the account.

The page is filled with mouthwatering desserts, cakes, and designs that are almost hard to believe are edible. There’s an entire toaster that looks so real until the next picture shows Lily cutting into it with a large knife. Back when I knew Lily, cooking was her passion. She’d talk animatedly about her dreams of becoming a top chef, and cake decorating was only a hobby, a way to disconnect from the stress of the kitchen.

It’s amazing to see that hobby become a career for her.

“Well, thank you for showing me,” I say to Emma. “I know exactly who to reach out to the next time I need a fancy cake to celebrate something. Or a youngster to help me with my phone, apparently.”

I’d never considered myself unskilled with social media, but it barely factors into my life other than seeking out websites on a browser. It never occurred to me to find Lily on social media.

Suddenly, the outer door swings open. At first, I barely spare the man a glance Until I recognize him. Just as I do, Emma slides off her chair and runs to him with a cheer.

It’s the man from the bakery. The one I saw hugging Lily. The way Emma runs to him and hugs him with a gigantic smile on her face confirms my fear. This is Emma’s father. It’s got to be.

“Hey, sport. I’m here to pick you up. Your mom’s gonna be working later than she intended but she wants me to bring you to the bakery, sound good?”

“Okay!” Emma nods quickly, but something prevents me from leaving.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” I ask, approaching the man.

“I’m Mark. Who are you?”

“Sorry, I just… I know Lily, and I know Emma, but I don’t know you and I’m not sure how comfortable I am with your just coming in here and taking Emma.”

“He’s a teacher!” Emma declares with adorable innocence, and I would maybe let this go if I weren’t desperate to get some clue as to who this man really is.

“Lily and I go way back,” Mark says, and his face stiffens. “Call her if you don’t believe me.”

I hesitate. I don’t have her number and had been planning on asking her father to give it to me, or using the number for Sweet Noel after I’d Googled what it was.

“I’m not trying to accuse you of anything,” I reply stiffly. “It’s just strange to me because I don’t know you.”

“And I don’t know you, pal,” Mark snaps. “Who the hell are you, anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter who I am. You’re the one who’s wandered in off the streets and is trying to take Emma without even speaking to her grandparents. Bit strange.”

“Listen, pal, I don’t need to explain anything to you because Emma is my responsibility, understand?”

Before I can reply, Hillary appears from the dining room and smiles widely. “Mark! How lovely to see you. Are you here for dinner?”

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