Page 4 of Colorado Christmas Carol
“Mellie, you’re a nice person,” Essa said, and meant it.
The child’s eyes lit up. “You really think so? Thank you. Most people just say I’m irritating,” she added on a sigh.
“It’s that you’re intelligent,” Essa explained as she went back to kneading. “It intimidates grown-ups.”
“I don’t intimidate you, and you’re a grown-up,” Mellie pointed out.
“No, I’m not,” Essa assured her with a grin. “I’m only twelve. I never grew up. It’s boring, being an adult, so I’m not going to be one. Not ever.”
Mellie almost gurgled with glee. Her dad was so busy that he never noticed her, and she had no other family. Kids at school didn’t try to befriend her because they were afraid of the teacher who persecuted her. So she was mostly unappreciated. How nice to find a friend in such an unlikely place!
“Could you teach me how to cook?” Mellie asked.
Essa grinned. “Not right now.”
“I mean when you have time. It looks like fun.”
“It is. It’s about my only talent. Well, I have a way with words, if my English teachers weren’t lying.” Her eyes were dreamy. “Someday, somehow, I’m going to sell a book. It’s the dream of my life.”
“I’m spelling-challenged.” Mellie sighed. “And math challenged. And I hate having to read stories about people I don’t even like!”
“You’ll graduate one day. Then you can read what you like. But spelling is very important. If you ever want to learn a foreign language, it’s a lot harder if you don’t have spelling skills.”
Mellie’s eyes widened. “Do you speak languages besides English?”
“Oh, yes. Chinese, Japanese, Spanish, German, and enough Italian to get me arrested in Rome.”
“Wow!”
“I love languages.” Essa sighed.
“So does my dad. He speaks Spanish and German.”
“Well!”
“Not much, though,” Mellie said. “He likes archaeology. He says most of the antique papers and books on archaeology are written in German. He learned it because he wanted to research. He got his degree in anthropology, though.”
“And he’s a detective?”
“He didn’t want to teach. And spending his life in a big hole with a toothbrush didn’t appeal to him, he said. But crime-fighting did! So here we are.”
Essa just shook her head.What a fascinating man, she thought.
And sadly that thought went into eclipse when a deep, furious voice called, “Where the hell is my daughter!” Essa grimaced, glancing at a worried Mellie.
“Oh, dear,” Mellie said in a small voice. “I forgot to mention that he said I couldn’t leave the room.”
“Bad time to forget that,” Essa said under her breath as six foot one of solid muscle and wondrous man walked into the room in tan slacks and a green designer short-sleeved shirt. He ignored Essa’s small staff, working in the back of the kitchen.
“I thought I’d find you here,” he muttered at his daughter. He glared at Essa. “Hiding out with the future Nobel prize-winning authoress,” he added in a savage drawl.
Essa just glared right back at him. “Said the man who can’t speak without resorting to foul language as a substitute for good grammar,” she countered. She even smiled.
The glare got worse. “Well, my English skills are probably still superior to your writing skills. Or have you sold something in the past few hours?” he added in a sarcastic tone.
Essa turned, her hands caked with flour, and replied, “When I win the Nobel Prize for literature, I’ll remind you that you said that,” she said with a sweetly snarky smile.
“That’s the very day that I’ll be elected president, too,” he shot back.
