Page 36 of Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty

Thank youI mouth at James, and he nods his head once. That was an excellent way to keep Emma from touching any of the counters until I’m certain there’s no glass left.

“The back room is safe,” I say, ruffling Emma’s curls. “Why don’t you head through there for me?”

“Okay,” Emma replies cheerily, and she walks off, but not before she points at James with her eyes narrowed. “Watch you don’t scratch your arm off!”

“She’s quite the character.” James chuckles as Emma disappears into the back.

“Isn’t she just.” I smile warmly. Seeing her come running out of the school was the greatest medicine for the gloomy mood I’d been in since the cops told me about the break-in. “Everything good here?”

“Yup.” James pats his hands together. “You’re gonna need a new set of shelves, but I called Margret and she says she’ll drop by tomorrow with the number for the contractor she used. And uhm…” James hesitates.

“What is it?” An uncomfortable rush of heat warms the back of my neck as I pray for no more bad news.

“Mark came by looking for you.”

“Oh.” I frown. “Did he say why?”

“Something about your date with him. He asked me to pass that on and to let you know he was here.”

“Why didn’t he just wait to see me at school?” I ask, then I puff out my cheeks. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m asking you.”

James chuckles. “If I had the answer, I would give it.”

“I know. Uhm…” I’d been planning on letting James leave once I returned, but seeing how quickly Emma warmed to him, maybe it would be better if he stuck around. “You’ve done so much for me already, but could I ask one more favor?”

“Anything,” James replies immediately.

“I have to get started on the batter for all the replacements. Would you like to stay and help me? Maybe keep Emma entertained?”

“Absolutely.” James smiles widely. “Just direct me where you need me.”

He lightly salutes me, earning himself a gentle shove as I pass.

In the kitchen, James immediately tends to Emma and they hit it off immediately. While I navigate my exhaustion and the countless eggs for the batter, Emma fills James in on every aspect of her day. From the morning walk, the crayon she chewed on as a dare, and the snowfall interrupting recess, she talks and talks while helping James mix sugar and flour together. He listens intently to her, laughing often and askingsimple questions that send Emma into babbling tangents about an argument last week over the correct way to peel an orange.

In her opinion, using your teeth is the most efficient way because peel under your nails is horrible. James agrees seriously and recounts a story from his youth where peeling an orange with his fingers resulted in orange juice spurting into his eye. Emma laughs long and loud at that.

It gives me peace to work while allowing me to listen in on Emma rambling away. Such a thing fills my heart with love, and I’m too tired to be wary. Maybe this is too much of a risk, considering James is Emma’s father, and letting them get to know each other could spell disaster.

But I need him right now. I can worry about everything else later. As I mix and haul bowls of batter around the kitchen, I also try to decipher Mark’s weird message. What date is he talking about? The last time he was here, he was trying to get me to volunteer for the Christmas fair at school, but I shot him down quickly. I have no time for that.

What else could he mean? As I pour batter, Emma dancing at the corner of my eye suddenly sparks a thought. Did he mean the daddy/daughter dance? I’m suddenly jerked back to his odd way of asking me out on a date while I was waiting on Emma, and my gut curls.

“Emma, sweetie.”

“Yeah?” Emma stops dancing and brandishes a wooden spoon at me.

“Have you asked your grandpa to the daddy/daughter dance yet?”

Emma’s face is an amusing picture and she taps the spoon to her forehead. “No,” she replies earnestly. “I forgot.”

“Well, make sure you do it the next time you see him, okay?”

“Yup!” Emma nods and then returns to James, who takes the spoon and hands her a small metal spoon instead. She taps it against the bowl and beams. I notice James watching me with a strange look on his face, but I don’t have time to decipher it now.

I’m on the last dregs of energy and there’s still so much to do.

Somehow, we get all of the batter into tins and cases, and then into the gigantic oven. As the door closes, I collapse down to the floor with a groan and Emma lands on me with a yell.

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