The Best Christmas Ever

Mickie smiled, satisfied.

Relieved, Sarah smiled back. The questions from a five-year-old who would very soon be six—in less than three months, in fact—had been harder than she’d anticipated. Still, it looked as though baby-sitting her was going to be easy. Sarah had survived her first test and had been accepted. How much harder could it be?

Chapter Four (#ulink_f47d0a96-5ed2-5dda-b3fe-bdb9542f7d7f)

“What in the world! Mickie, what have you gotten into?”

Sarah stared in horror at the living room and dining room. White powder dusted everything. Following the trail to the dining-room table, she found Mickie standing in a chair with toy cooking utensils, covered in white from head to toe.

“I was making a cake, since you were busy cooking chicken.”

Mickie sneezed, then wiped a grimy hand across her face, smearing the white stuff again. She shook her head and a white cloud was released from her formerly brown hair.

“But I told you I’d try to get to it!” Sarah stared blankly at the mess. It was going to take her an hour to clean this up and there was no telling when Justin would be home.

Mickie’s shoulders drooped. “I was only trying to help.”

Realizing she had hurt Mickie’s feelings released Sarah from her inability to react. She went forward and, with only a small reluctance at how dirty she was going to get, gathered Mickie in her arms. “It’s okay. Let’s go upstairs and run you some bathwater, then I’ll clean up the mess.”

“I just wanted Daddy to have a cake. He says I’m his little helper.”

“It’s okay. Really. But maybe next time,” Sarah said, going upstairs, “we should do this together. Until you can prove to me you know how,” she added, and filled the tub for Mickie.

“Mrs. Winters never would let me. She doesn’t like messes.”

“Well,” Sarah said, stripping the little girl and helping her into the tub, “I don’t mind a mess if we do it together. You see, that’s the only way to learn. Now, if you promise not to try it by yourself again, maybe next week we can make some cookies together.”

Mickie’s eyes lit with excitement. “Really?”

“Really.”

Sarah quickly washed Mickie’s hair, then allowed Mickie to finish up. When she was done, she dried her off. “Can you pick out your clothes by yourself?”

Mickie gave her an exasperated look. “I’m not a baby,” she said. “I’ll be six January 10.”

Sarah bit back a smile. “Of course. I’ll be downstairs cleaning up the dining room. The chicken is done. I only have to finish vegetables and potatoes to finish. You can go get out three plates and the silverware while I clean up and finish fixing dinner.”

Evidently, Mickie thought she had the better of the two deals, because she didn’t argue.

Sarah reentered the dining room and dismally surveyed the white mess. What to do first?

She sighed. Deciding just to wade in, she gathered the play dishes and the tin of flour, which Mickie had somehow sneaked out of the kitchen, and set them all back in their places. After returning to the dining room, she simply swept all the flour onto the floor. Then she wiped down the table and china cabinet and every other piece of furniture that looked to have received a dusting of flour.

Once she’d moved the chairs out of the way, she pulled out the vacuum cleaner and began to vacuum. Mickie came in to set the table. “Place mats and napkins,” Sarah said, nodding to where she’d set them out on the beautiful mahogany table.

Sarah had to stop twice to check the potatoes and vegetables she had boiling and then to mash the potatoes.

Then she had to change vacuum bags.

She was getting tired by the time she reached the living room. That was how she explained her accident. Why else would she trip over the vacuum cord, unless all the dusting and vacuuming was tiring her? That and the fact the vacuum cleaner Justin owned weighed almost a ton. He really should have one of those lightweight models, not the monster that made her huff with exertion when using it. Add that to the fact that she hadn’t stopped running around since Mickie had entered the house three hours ago and an accident was obviously waiting to happen.

So, it was natural that, as she swept toward the entryway, her shoe tripped her up over the cord.

She squawked in surprise and went flying backward.

Windmilling, grabbing for purchase, Sarah teetered before succumbing to gravity. I’ll probably end up with a broken neck. Then Justin will gloat over just how unfit a parent I would make!

With one last effort to catch herself before she ended up splitting her head on the floor, she twisted. Instead of ground, a hard dark object arrested her mid-flight.

The dark object grunted.

In her peripheral vision she saw a briefcase go flying. Strong arms wrapped around her. Her rescuer teetered before both she and her victim continued their fall to the floor.

Splat.

The cessation of noise proved even more telling than her screech when she’d started down.

In the moment it took her to orient herself, she registered several things. The body beside hers was warm and comforting—one arm was still wrapped around her shoulders—and he was in good shape.

She lifted her gaze from the white shirt and tie to Justin’s sardonic expression.

She smiled weakly, wondering how to apologize.

He spoke first. “Don’t you think you’re taking this housekeeping job just a little too seriously?”

“Daddy!”

Hearing Mickie’s voice, Sarah immediately scrambled off Justin. “I’m so sorry. We had a little accident and I was sweeping. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and got tangled up in the cord.”

He stood, dusted off his suit, then scooped Mickie up in his arms. “Hiya, pumpkin,” he said, bussing her cheek.

Sarah winced at how Mickie was dressed. Blue striped shorts with an orange checked top. Justin blinked, cast a glance at Sarah, then returned his attention to Mickie.

She squeezed his neck. “Sarah made your favorite meal but we didn’t have time to bake a cake. I tried but made a mess, instead, and Aunt Sarah cleaned it up while I set the table.”

Justin raised an eyebrow and scanned the room. He hugged Mickie again before setting her down. “My favorite meal, huh?” He made a big show of sniffing the air. “Fried chicken?”

Mickie laughed and nodded.

“That’s great! Go upstairs and wash up. Let me get my briefcase and change. Then we’ll eat.”

Mickie immediately ran upstairs.

Justin gathered the contents of his briefcase and Sarah belatedly helped him. “So what’s the special occasion?” he asked as he snapped the lid shut.

Sarah fidgeted. She hadn’t expected to be questioned on what she had prepared. “I told Mickie I’d make her anything she wanted. And fried chicken with chocolate coconut cake was her choice.”

An indefinable emotion crossed Justin’s features before he sighed.