Page 26 of The Clause in Christmas
“Chocolate chip pancakes?” Ben scooted toward the edge of the chair, his doe eyes bright and expectant.
“Let’s see.” Cassie searched the pantry. “We’re in luck.” She held out a mason jar filled with chocolate chips, and Ben whooped, hopping down to join her.
“Mom lets me mix the batter.”
Cassie chuckled. “I have a feeling you’re going to be better at making pancakes than I am.”
* * *
After eating breakfast and washing up, Cassie helped Ben back into his snow gear, bundling herself in as many layers as she could comfortably manage. Maybe she should invest in some decent snow clothes? She immediately dismissed the idea. Her first week of the Calendar was almost over. Before she knew it, she’d be leaving Poppy Creek, heading back to San Francisco, no longer in need of a snowsuit. The realization left a surprising weight in the pit of her stomach. One she promptly ignored as she and Ben headed outside.
Building a snowman with Ben proved to be more fun than Cassie expected. Although the chilly air stung her cheeks, the exertion from rolling the huge snowballs left her plenty warm beneath her thick sweater and wool peacoat.
Several failed attempts at stacking the lumpy blobs of snow had them both doubling over in laughter, but they eventually managed to create a lopsided snowman with two walnut shells for eyes and an orange highlighter pen for a nose. To her delight, Ben said he liked it even better than a carrot. Cassie also parted with a handful of her precious coffee beans for the snowman’s smile.
Stepping back, they surveyed their handiwork.
“Not bad.” Cassie smiled down at Ben, whose little face glowed with pride. “But I guess he needs arms, huh? Let’s look around and see if we can find some sticks buried in the snow.”
As they searched, Cassie asked, “What are we going to name him? Frosty the Snowman?”
Ben shook his head. “No. This isn’t Frosty.”
“Who is he, then?” Cassie’s gaze fell on the tip of a branch peeking out from the glittering snow. Gripping it with her damp gloves, she prepared to yank it free.
“He’s my dad,” Ben answered the same moment Cassie gave a firm tug.
In her surprise, she lost her balance, falling on her backside in a mound of snow.
“Yay! You found one!” Ben cheered, oblivious to the affect his comment had on her. Racing over, he plucked the stick from her hands. “Good job.”
“Thanks.” Cassie hoisted herself out of the snowdrift, watching Ben twist the branch into the side of the snowman. “Ben…” she said slowly.
In the several days she’d spent in Poppy Creek, no one had mentioned Ben’s father before. And Cassie would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious. “What’s your dad’s name?”
Ben shrugged. “I don’t know.” His tone was casual, almost breezy, as he took up the search for another appendage.
“You don’t know your dad’s name?” Cassie pressed, determined to make some sense out of his answer.
“Uh-uh. I’ve never met my dad.” Once again, Ben sounded nonchalant and unconcerned, and thousands of possibilities reeled through Cassie’s mind. His father could have died before he was born. Or, maybe, he’d never been in the picture at all.
A look of sadness must have crossed her features because Ben suddenly paused, worry lines creasing his forehead. “Is that…bad?” he asked, his voice uncertain, as if the prospect had never occurred to him before.
“No! Of course, not!” Cassie said hurriedly, hoping to put his mind at ease. “Lots of people don’t know their dads. I’ve never met mine.” The words left her mouth in a rush before she could stop them.
“Really?”
“Really.” Cassie fidgeted with her scarf, wishing she’d never mentioned it.
“Do you want to meet him?” Ben lifted his chin to meet her gaze, and there was something in his soulful brown eyes that broke Cassie’s heart. An unspoken longing. Maybe even a subconscious one. To not only know who your father was… but if he ever loved you. The same longing Cassie experienced when she was Ben’s age. And if she were honest, still did.
Cassie parted her lips to respond, but words failed her.
The sound of her ringing cell phone broke the silence instead.
Scrambling inside her coat pocket, Cassie gratefully accepted the interruption. “One second. I have to take this.”
She pressed the phone to her ear, not bothering to check the caller ID. “Hello?”
