Page 22 of Single Dad's Christmas Cookie

“The point is, Mother, you should have let me know that you had dropped Amelia off.”

Mother scoffed and dismissed my concerns. “Don’t be tiresome, Bryan. Why is my granddaughter hanging out in the kitchen? I won’t have my granddaughter hanging out with the help. You need to hire her a proper nanny.” Mother ignored me and made her way to the kitchen.

I was actually surprised she knew where the kitchen was located. I’m sure she had never stepped foot in hers. She stopped as she stepped in the door, blocking my way in. I could hear Amelia giggling while it sounded like Nova was singing along with the movie I had interrupted them watching earlier.

“Amelia!” Mother barked.

“Grandmother!” my daughter shouted with enthusiasm.

My mother jostled slightly under the impact of my daughter giving her a hug. “Must you greet me like a wild beast?”

“Sorry, Grandmother.” Amelia released her hold on my mother and stepped back. “I am so pleased to see you this evening.” Thesharp, precise tone that she always had after visiting my mother was back.

It had only been twenty-four hours, but Amelia seemed to shine around Nova. Then again, Nova seemed to have that effect on me as well. I wanted to show off for her.

“Whatever are you doing in here, Amelia?”

“I’m helping to make dinner.”

“What?” Mother snapped.

“This is my friend, Nova. Nova, this is my?—”

“You do not need to introduce me to the help,” Mother corrected her.

“Nova is not the help. She is my friend,” Amelia started.

“If she is paid to work here, she is the help. She is not your friend.”

Nova’s mouth opened. I could tell she wanted to say something, but I caught her eye and shook my head. Now was not the time for Nova to get on the bad side of my mother. I knew she was only here temporarily, but I did want her to stay through the duration of the time. I needed her to cook for me. I did not need my mother to run her off.

Nova clamped her mouth shut and gave me a stern look. I gave her a sharp nod, letting her know that it was the precise thing I needed her to do.

“I was helping Nova count the eggs,” Amelia said with determination. She stood up straighter and squared off her little shoulders. “She needed to know how many were in therefrigerator. And I told her we had twelve, and she said that was a dozen. And I asked her what a dozen was. And?—”

“I see.” Mother cut her off. But she didn’t.

I did. The dish Nova was preparing didn’t have eggs in it. However, teaching my daughter the concepts of a dozen meant twelve and that half a dozen meant six was not lost on me. I had always heard that cooking was a combination of basic chemistry and math, so teaching Amelia some basic math seemed reasonable.

My mother was more than appalled by the entire situation. She probably expected basic math to be taught with money. After all, that’s how I learned.

“Come now, Amelia,” Mother said as she began to attempt to herd Amelia out of the kitchen.

“But we’re not done,” Amelia said.

“I think you are done enough for today.”

“I should help Nova to clean up.”

I don’t know what my mother was thinking, but the sneer she gave Nova was blatantly obvious. “Nova can clean up on her own. That is, after all, what she is paid to do.”

“But…” Amelia gave up. She knew that arguing with my mother was pointless.

I stayed put while I watched them leave, uncertain whether I should follow or explain my situation to Nova. As I watched my mother essentially bully my child and my temporary cook, I realized I hadn’t been focusing on my family properly. I should have had better control of that entire exchange. Mother was aforce to contend with, and I had always thought she had Amelia’s best interests at heart. This had not been easy to watch, and Amelia’s tender feelings had been completely ignored.

My goals had always been business and finance oriented, even before Amelia or her mother had come into my life. But then I had been distracted by her mother. She had been beautiful and kind, and when she left, I didn’t really know what to do other than go back to what I knew, which was running a business and managing finances. I relied on Mother for the emotional aspect of Amelia’s upbringing. Amelia didn’t work like finances or budgets, just as she wasn’t exactly as precise and personally managed as my mother would have liked her to have been. She was six. She needed to be a kid.

I cast a quick gaze over the “mess” in the kitchen. There were eggs and measuring cups, scissors and paper, and in the background, an animated musical ran. It shut off with a click.

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