Page 38 of Sleigh Bells and Snowstorms
“Thank you again for your help,” he said, his voice disarmingly soft.
“You’re welcome. It was kind of fun, actually.”
“I enjoyed it as well.” He paused, and there was that hint of surprise in his tone again. “Have a good evening.”
“You too.”
I got out, and the real world hit me along with the cold night air. My brief fantasy of espionage faded, and I was back to being… me. Sister, aunt, nurse. Broke.
Boring.
I went inside, hoping Jensen did somehow get tickets to that event. Not because I cared about rubbing elbows with a bunch of small-town snobs in designer labels. Because infiltrating an event that required a dress and heels sounded deliciously adventurous.
And doing so with Jensen at my side? Dangerous or not, that idea was irresistible.
Going back to working nights when the strike was over was probably going to kill me. Rolling over in bed, I stretched my arms above my head. I was getting used to sleeping at night all too quickly.
When I went downstairs, signs of Annabel’s breakfast were all over the kitchen table. Nina must have made her eggs and toast. She’d also made coffee, so I helped myself to a cup.
The house was quiet, even for so early in the day, and I wondered if they’d gone somewhere. We didn’t have a Christmas tree yet, so maybe they’d gone to get one.
I decided I could help by bringing up the decorations from the basement. I went down the stairs where the fans anddehumidifiers still roared. At least everything looked dry, and condensation wasn’t building up anywhere.
Trying not to think about what it was costing us to rent those huge fans, I went to the closet where we kept our decorations. We didn’t have a lot—just a few bins of lights and ornaments. Fortunately, nothing on that side of the basement had gotten wet. Losing our Christmas decorations would have made a bad situation that much worse. Some of our ornaments were from when Nina and I were growing up.
I brought the bins upstairs one at a time and set them in the living room. Still no sign of Nina and Annabel, so I figured I’d test the lights. One Christmas, we’d forgotten to do that and didn’t realize half the strands were dead until they were already on the tree. I didn’t want to make that mistake again.
The first bin was filled with ornaments. I was about to push it aside when one of them caught my eye. Sitting right on top, half covered with a scrap of torn tissue paper, was an old, homemade salt dough ornament in the shape of a stack of pancakes with a pat of butter and green and red sprinkles on top.
I hadn’t thought about it in years, but Christmas morning pancakes had been a Thatcher family tradition since Nina and I were young. It was the red and green sprinkles that made them special. Mom would mix them into the batter, and we’d scatter more on top, adding a sugary sparkle to our holiday breakfast.
Nina had made the pancake ornament when she was a kid. I couldn’t believe we still had it.
And it hit me. No wonder Annabel was so insistent on me being there for Christmas. Nina had continued the sprinkle pancake tradition, and Annabel wanted us all to be there for it. Together.
Nina’s car pulled up outside. Sniffling, I set the ornament back in the bin and swiped beneath my eyes. That had been an unexpected rush of feelings from an old ornament.
The door flew open, and Annabel rushed in. She kicked off her boots and dropped her coat on the floor.
“Auntie Natalie, I got coffee!”
Nina came in behind her and shut the door. “Where does your coat go?”
“Oops. Forgot.” She spun around and skipped back to the entry to hang her coat on the low hook just for her.
“Coffee?” I asked. “Because she doesn’t have enough energy?”
Nina smiled. “It was a hot chocolate, but it was from the Steaming Mug, so it was in the same kind of cup as Mommy’s and Auntie’s coffees. She was very excited.”
“Is that where you guys went?”
“Yeah.” Nina plopped down on the couch. “Miss Early Riser over there woke up before the sun did. I figured you could use some sleep, so we got out of the house. The coffee shop is open early, and for obvious reasons, I needed the caffeine. Win-win.”
“Thanks. I did need the sleep. It’s going to be a rough transition when I go back to work. It’s like we’re made to sleep at night.”
“Who knew?”
“Mommy, can I go play outside?” Annabel asked. “I put my boots back on.”
