Page 13 of Single Dad's Christmas Cookie

“If you think wine would be appropriate, then please serve wine,” I said.

She continued to bustle about in the kitchen. She set a glass of white wine down in front of me first and then brought over the cutlery and set my place. Lastly, she set a plate down in front of me with the most amazing smelling meal.

“Smells good,” I said as I picked up my fork. I stabbed at the food on the plate. It was the consistency of a thick stew with a perfectly domed side of rice and roasted vegetables.

“Are these Brussels sprouts?” I asked.

“Yes, with a balsamic glaze.”

I took a bite. The vegetable was perfectly crispy, a little nutty with a tangy, sweet flavoring of the glaze. I took a bite of the main dish, still uncertain of exactly what it was.

“What is this?” I took another bite, impressed with the meal.

“Artichoke chicken,” she responded.

“Aren’t you going to have any?” I asked.

“I didn’t want to assume… it’s not appropriate…” She trailed off. “I assume that as your cook, I would not be eating with you.”

I took another forkful of food. Everything was really delicious. I waved my fork at her.

“Please, make yourself a plate and come sit. We need to discuss the details of your employment.”

7

NOVA

“Who are you?” a little voice from somewhere behind me asked.

I was busy rummaging through the lower cupboards. The variety of pots and pans and baking dishes available to me was mind-blowing. I hadn’t seen this wide variety of cookware outside of a shop, ever.

I stood up and turned around

A little girl with curly hair, carrying a bedraggled stuffed animal, peered up at me with the biggest eyes I had ever seen.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“That’s not polite. You should never answer a question with a question. I asked first,” she said in very crisp, precise tones.

“I’m Nova,” I said.

“Nice to meet you, Nova. Do you work for my daddy?” she asked.

“That depends, who’s your Daddy?”

“Well, Daddy is my daddy, silly,” she announced with all the obviousness of a small child.

“I work for Mr. Bryan,” I said. I forced a smile, but I wasn’t feeling it. My stomach clenched. He said he wasn’t married, but he hadn’t said anything about having children.

He could be divorced.

“Yes, that’s my daddy. Do you work for my daddy?”

“I do. And I think that means I also work for you,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Amelia, and this is Humphrey.” She held up a stuffed cat toy that had seen better days.

“Pleased to meet you, Amelia and Humphrey.” One thing I knew about working with small children is if they introduced you to their special stuffed animal, you treated that stuffed animal as if it were real, because for that child, it was. If it was important to them, it was important to me. I liked kids. It’s why I became a teacher. Even if they were sticky and smelled funny occasionally.

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