Page 115 of Mistletoe and Mischief

Sophie cast a pleading glance at her father. “Daddy?” she implored.

Kent hesitated.

Danielle tugged him over to the door. “I need to go. Don’t worry, your father will be back in the morning.” She turned to him, hissing, “The girls need to spend time with their mother, too.”

“I’ll stay,” Kent said decisively. “That is, if you’re sure it’s what you want.” The question was directed at Beth.

Holding her breath, she realized she didn’t have a choice. Which meant that her Christmas Eve dinner would be shared with Kent and... Danielle. What she wouldn’t give for a peaceful evening alone with her daughters. Instead, she was forced to watch her husband—er,ex-husband—with another woman.

“Mom?” Bailey whispered.

“Of course you should stay,” Beth said, just a little too brightly.

“Mom’s making lasagna,” Sophie said, and then added, apparently to enlighten Danielle, “It’s a family tradition. The recipe comes from Grandma Carlucci.”

Danielle pursed her lips in a pout, then squared her shoulders, coming to some decision. “In that case, I insist on helping.”

The last thing Beth wanted was this woman inherkitchen. “All I need to do is get the lasagna in the oven,” she said. “It’s already put together—just needs to bake.”

“Well, then, I’ll make a salad,” Danielle said.

“Mom always makes Caesar salad and garlic bread,” Bailey told her.

“I can make a Caesar salad.” Danielle pushed up the sleeves of her sweater and grabbed an apron off the countertop, staking out her territory.

Beth felt as though the other woman had declared war. Fine. In that case, she was prepared to surrender without a fight. This was Christmas, and if Danielle wanted to plant her flag in Beth’s kitchen, she was welcome to it. Only Beth wouldn’t be there.

“Are you sure you don’t mind making the salad?” she asked.

“I offered, didn’t I?” Danielle placed one hand on her hip.

“Okay, then, there’s no reason for me to stay. I’ll use the time to deliver one of the puppies.” She’d drive the Randalls’ puppy over to Grace Harding’s place.

Danielle cast her a triumphant look, as if to say she’d taken great satisfaction in maneuvering Beth out of her own kitchen.

Sophie smiled; Beth could tell this was precisely what she’d hoped would happen. “Dad, you should go with Mom.”

“Kent!” Danielle said sharply. “I might...you know, need you.”

“Dad,” Bailey challenged, “do you want Mom driving on treacherous roadsalone?What if she had an accident?”

Beth tried to remember whether her daughter had ever taken drama. If so, she’d had a good teacher. The kid was ready for Broadway.

“It’s fine, Kent,” Beth assured him, trying to hide her laughter and not quite succeeding. “I’ve driven these roads alone any number of times.”

“But not when there’ssnowon the ground,” Sophie wailed, as if she’d attended the same drama class.

“Your mother knows what she’s doing,” Danielle tossed in casually. “She’ll be perfectly fineby herself.” The last two words were given heavy emphasis.

Again Bailey and Sophie turned to their father with wide eyes even Scrooge couldn’t have ignored.

“Dad? Are you really going to let Mom go out all on her own?”

“Would you ever forgive yourself if anything happened to the mother of your children?” Sophie wailed.

Unwilling to be part of this ridiculous conversation any longer, Beth grabbed her coat, gloves and scarf and headed for the back door. She was outside and halfway to the car with the puppy in its carrier when Kent jogged up behind her.

“Hey, wait up,” he called.

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