Page 42 of A Cozy Holiday
Honey’s face flames pink. “I do not! But…” she whispers, “we can’t ask Grandma about asking boys to dance. She thinks girls shouldn’t do that.”
“You just ask them,” I say, forcing a smile. “Girls, one thing my mom told me at your age is that you’re probably overqualified to date any of the guys in your class. No boy is worth putting your dreams on hold. So go up to him with confidence and ask him out. He’d be lucky to have you.”
Once the words are out of my mouth, I hesitate. Maybe I shouldn’t be giving these girls advice, especially since I am not exactly skilled in the romance department, but at least I have a career I’m proud of.
“I just want to look cute,” Honey sighs.
I scrunch my face at her. “You look cute.”
“Thecutest.” Kiki hugs her sister before singing, “Wyatt and Honey sitting in a tree—”
“Wyatt? Bob’s kid?” Jamie enters the kitchen, bread in hand, and the girls drop silent. “I’ll cut down all the trees on the property before you get in the tree with one of the boys.”
“Daaaaddd, ew.” The girls share a look with me, and I raise my eyebrows like we’re all in on the same joke.
Huh, they aren’t that hard to talk to. They’re just curious like I was at that age.
I finish up Honey’s makeup while they fill me in on the very serious fifth-grade drama involving someone named Madison who “totally copied” someone else’s science project. Meanwhile, Jamie busies himself with cutting the garlic, mixing it with butter, and slathering it on the sourdough loaf that smells downright sinful. Maybe he picked garlic bread so there won’t be any risk of us making out tonight.
Garlic keeps the vampires and single ladies away?
“Girls, set the table for lunch.”
“But, Daddddd…”
“You gotta eat before I take you to the dance. And before you get your dresses on.”
“But ourlipstick.”
“I can reapply it after,” I say.
That seems to do the trick because they start setting the table with mismatched bowls.
For the next hour, we eat vegetarian mushroom spaghetti and garlic bread while the girls animatedly talk about their week, excited to share that they’re learning fraction division. I casually offer to tutor them after school next week.
When Jubilee wakes up and starts darting around the house, Jamie sets down a head of lettuce for her by the fire. She demolishes it, then flops over upside down, snoring softly.
I end up having three extra slices of bread.
Maybe it’s the wood-burning oven that makes it taste this good.
Or maybe it’s the dad who makes pasta sauce from scratch, who’s devoted his life to his daughters and every creature on thisfarm, and who kisses me so deeply I forget where I end and he begins.
A dangerously domestic feeling settles in my chest, like this isn’t the first time I’ve had lunch at this table.
Miriam would be impressed with me.
When all the bowls are practically licked clean, Jamie disappears into the kitchen to boil water for tea, then returns with two steaming mugs. I notice Honey glancing anxiously at the clock. Twenty minutes until they need to leave. Have I really been here for two hours already?
“Wait, Dad, do the tea rocket!” Kiki suddenly exclaims, batting her dark mascaraed lashes at him.
“No, you girls need to get dressed,” Jamie counters, though his resolve seems to weaken under the weight of their pleading eyes.
“Tea rocket, tea rocket!” they chant.
Jamie sighs, but he’s grinning. “All right, all right. But this is a delicate operation.” He grabs a fresh tea bag. “We’re talking precise engineering here.”
The girls lean forward, already giggling.
