Page 136 of Mistletoe and Mischief

“Rachel, you’re awake, aren’t you?”

“I’m getting there.”

“Hurry up,” the girl said, holding the puppy close to Rachel. “There are gifts out there just waiting to be opened.”

“Okay, okay,” Rachel said, squinting as Poppy licked her face. “Give me five minutes.”

“That long?” Jolene whined, and then laughed out loud, sounding young and carefree.

“You’re certainly in a good mood,” Bruce teased, hugging his daughter.

“Daddy, it’s Christmas. Everyone’s in a good mood on Christmas Day.”

If only that was true. Memories of her childhood drifted into Rachel’s mind. After her mother’s death, she’d gone to live with an unmarried aunt who’d seen Christmas as a commercial wasteland and refused to partake in anything so frivolous. There’d been no tree, no presents. It was just like every other day, except that Rachel didn’t have to go to school.

She’d listened attentively as her friends told of their wonderful holidays and longed for the time when she’d celebrate Christmas with a family of her own. And here it was, unfolding right before her eyes.

Setting her mug aside, she tossed back the covers and slid out of bed. “Did someone say something about presents?” she asked.

Jolene placed Poppy on the floor, grabbed Rachel’s hand and led her into the living room. “I put the casserole in the oven.”

“Great. Did you preheat it to three hundred and fifty degrees first?”

“Yes, I did.”

“You’re going to be a terrific cook.”

“I already am,” Jolene said. “I made dinner the whole time you were gone and I did a good job, didn’t I, Dad?”

“Yup.” Bruce joined Rachel on the sofa. “Unfortunately, I didn’t have much of an appetite.”

Jolene sighed. “All he could think about was you and the baby.”

“But Rachel’s with us now, and that’s what matters.”

“Hey,” Rachel said, “are we going to sit around all morning discussing the past or are we going to open gifts?”

Her question got the desired results. “Open gifts!” Jolene said with renewed energy.

Rachel went back to the bedroom for her robe and tied it loosely about her waist as she slipped her feet into fuzzy slippers.

Bruce had a nice fire going in the fireplace, and Poppy lay stretched out in front of it, snuffling in her sleep. The radio was tuned to a station that played Christmas music without any commercial interruptions. The casserole was baking in the oven, and the scent of bacon and cheese wafted into the room. This was as idyllic a picture as Rachel could ever have conjured up in some blissful fantasy.

“Who gets to open a gift first?” she asked, settling onto the sofa with her husband.

“I have to sort through them all before we open any,” Jolene said. “I’ll hand everything out andthenwe open them. One at a time,” she ordered.

“Then get to it, girl,” Bruce said with a laugh, reaching for Rachel’s hand.

Jolene walked over to the lighted tree, which they’d just finished decorating yesterday, and got down on all fours, rooting through the gifts. She pulled one out and sat back, checking the name tag.

“This one’s for Dad,” she said and, stretching forward, passed it to Bruce.

He held the rectangular package close to his ear and shook it. “Who’s it from?”

“Rachel,” Jolene said. “Looks like a shirt to me.”

“Don’t spoil the surprise.”

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