Page 111 of The Holiday Gift

He had so dang much to do before then, Ben didn’t even want to think about it. “I can’t wait,” he lied.

As he spoke, Ben became aware of what Jack would have called a disturbance in the Force. Some kind of shift in air currents or spinning and whirling of the ions in the air or something, he wasn’t sure, but he sensed Caidy’s approach even before she came into view.

“Hi! I thought I heard a doorbell.”

She was wearing a white apron and had a bit of flour on her cheek, just a little dusting against her heat-flushed skin.

“Sorry I’m a little later than I told you I would be on the phone,” he answered, fighting the urge to step forward and blow away the flour.

“No problem. We’ve been having fun, haven’t we, Jack?”

“Yep. We’re making pizza and I got to put some cheese on.”

His stomach growled again and he realized he hadn’t had time for lunch. “It smells great. Really great.”

Jack grabbed one of his hands in both of his. “Can we stay and have some? Please, Dad!”

He glanced at Caidy, embarrassed that his son would offer invitations to someone else’s meal. “I don’t think so. I’m sure we’ve bothered the Bowmans long enough. We’ll find something back at our place.”

Exactly what, he wasn’t quite sure. Maybe they would run into town to grab fast food, though right now loading up into the vehicle again and heading to the business district was the last thing he felt like doing. Maybe there was a pizza restaurant he hadn’t discovered yet—because that smell was enticing.

“Of course you’ll stay!” Caidy exclaimed. “I was planning on it.”

“You’re doing us enough favors by letting the kids come hang out with you. I don’t expect you to feed us too.”

She narrowed her gaze at him. “I just spent an hour making enough pizza dough to feed the whole town of Pine Gulch. You can stay a few minutes and eat a slice or two, can’t you?”

He should make an excuse and leave. This house was just too appealing—and Caidy was even more so. But he didn’t have plans for dinner. If they ate here, that was one less decision he would have to make. Besides, pizza on a cold winter night seemed perfect.

They could stay for a while, just long enough to eat, he decided. Then he and his children would head for home. “If you’re sure, that would be great. It really does smell delicious.”

“I’m going to be a lousy hostess and ask you to hang your own coat up because my hands are covered in flour, then come on back to the kitchen.”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned around and walked back down the hall, Jack scampering after her. After a pause, Ben shrugged out of his ranch coat and hung it alongside Jack’s and Ava’s coats on the rack in the corner.

He expected to see a crowd of children when he walked into the kitchen but Caidy was alone. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, leaving another little smudge of flour, and gave him a bright smile that seemed to push off another shackle of his fatigue.

“The kids are just getting ready to watch a Christmas show in the other room. You’re more than welcome to join them while I finish throwing things together in here.”

He should. A wise man would take the escape she was handing him, but he didn’t feel right about leaving her alone to do all the work. “Is there anything I can help you do in here?”

Surprise flickered in her eyes, then she smiled again. “You’re a brave man, Ben Caldwell. Sure. I’ve got a cheese pizza cooking now to satisfy the restless natives. Give me a minute to toss out another pie and then you can put the toppings on.”

He washed his hands, listening to the familiar opening strands of a holiday television special he had watched whenhewas a kid in the big rec room of Caldwell House. He found something rather comforting about the continuity of it, his own children enjoying the same things that had once given him pleasure.

“Would you like a drink or something? We don’t keep much in the house but I can probably rustle up a beer.”

“What are you having?”

“I like root beer with my pizza. It’s always been kind of a family tradition and I apparently haven’t grown out of it. Silly, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s nice. Root beer sounds good, but I can wait until the pizza is done.”

She smiled as her hands expertly continued tossing the dough into shape. “What about you? Any traditions in the Caldwell family kitchen?”

“Other than thoroughly enjoying whatever Mrs. Michaels fixes us, no. Not really.”

“What about when you were a kid?”

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