Christmas Gifts: Small Town Christmas / Her Christmas Cowboy. Brenda Minton

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      His comment drew Amy’s attention to the girls. They had a trace of a white mustache and a few crumbs on their cheeks and lips.

      Mike brushed crumbs from the front of his shirt. “We need to get home, but thanks so much for the treat, Ellie, and for watching the girls.”

      “It’s always a pleasure, and don’t forget my invitation.” Her grandmother’s face glowed.

      Invitation? Amy’s gaze shifted from her grandmother to Mike.

      “Your home cooking beats Mama’s Country Kitchen any day of the week. Thanks for your generous offer.”

      The girls bounced on their toes, their faces filled with glee.

      “Can we, Daddy? Really?”

      He drew closer to Holly. “If you learn to behave in school.” “I behave.”

      “They were excellent in class today.” Amy gave him a tender smile.

      “Good.” Mike wrapped an arm around each girl. “If they can keep that up until Thanksgiving, I’ll be pleased to accept your invitation.”

      Amy’s pulse kicked up a notch. What could she do? Grams had asked, and she would deal with it. While a warmth spread through her chest, beneath her buoyant thoughts, a caution sign blinked.

      Mike watched the snowflakes drift into piles against the house next door. Winter had made its appearance in time for Thanksgiving. He’d held his breath since he’d made his proclamation about the Thanksgiving invitation, but Holly and Ivy had made it through the rest of the week without incident. At least, he hadn’t been notified. He avoided putting Amy on the spot by calling her to check, even though he’d been tempted. In his heart he knew his girls’ behavior would have only been a cover for his real motive. He liked Amy—a lot.

      And he marveled at how much Ivy and Holly liked her. Amy seemed innovative with their lessons. Each day after school when he arrived home from work, they gave him details of stories they read, paragraphs they’d written, games they’d played with their math problems, and how they were making a bulletin board of all their drawings of different kinds of animals they were studying. Their enthusiasm bolstered his spirit.

      He rose from the kitchen table and strode to the hallway, wondering if they were awake. “Did you see the snow?”

      A rustle sounded in their bedrooms, and he guessed they’d just crawled out of bed. He glanced at his watch. Nine. He could have waited. His peaceful Saturday morning always ended once the girls roused from their rooms.

      Holly popped her head out the door. “Can we make a snowman?”

      “First I thought we’d go out to breakfast.”

      “Breakfast!” Ivy appeared in pants and her pajama top.

      “Can we?” “Get ready.”

      Looking forward to eating out, the twins made quick work of getting dressed, and they were all on their way in minutes. Mike drove down Main Street and pulled into the Flour Garden. Inside, he greeted the owner, Manny, as he passed through the small store filled with the scent of fresh ground coffee, then past the bakery counter, Mike found a booth along the wall. He looked out the window and watched flakes setting on the large evergreen across the street. Tomorrow it would be decorated for Christmas, and the town would gather for the tree-lighting. The event lured people from their cozy homes to listen to the music and enjoy the cookies and hot chocolate as they sang carols and joined in the festivities.

      Mike pulled his gaze from the snow-covered knoll and chatted with a couple of his neighbors before he perused the menu. When Jill appeared to take their order, she offered her usual smile and patiently waited while the girls decided on their choices. Mike wondered why they took so long. They usually ordered pancakes. Today was no different.

      He barely downed his first cup of coffee when the food arrived, and the twins became silent as they delved into the pancakes and drank their juice. Before Mike had time to make a dent in his meal, Holly’s voice jerked his attention.

      “I’m finished.”

      Mike lowered his coffee cup and eyed her plate. She had indeed gobbled down her food. “You’ll get sick eating so fast.”

      “But I’m anxious to make a snowman.”

      Ivy took a bite of her pancake and rolled her eyes. “You eat like a pig.”

      Holly spun around and grabbed one of Ivy’s pony tails and gave it a jerk. “I do not.”

      Mike held up his hand. “We don’t talk to people like that.”

      Ivy started to roll her eyes again before she caught herself.

      “Sorry.”

      He gave Holly a pointed look. “And you don’t pull people’s hair.” His fun morning vanished like a snowman in the sun. He signaled the waitress for the bill. After she slipped the tab on the table, he snatched it off, put on his coat and trudged to the cashier.

      The girls squabbled behind him, each blaming the other while he tried to close his ears. One moment he rallied, and the next moment his hopes sagged. Discouraged, he trudged outside.

      The sun had slipped from behind the clouds, sending prisms of light across the fluffy flakes. Mike wished his spirit shone as bright as the landscape.

      “Daddy?”

      He gave Ivy a fleeting glance. “What?” “I’m sorry. I won’t call Holly a pig ever again.” He didn’t know if he should laugh or groan. “Thank you.”

      “And I won’t choke Ivy anymore. I promise,” Holly mumbled.

      When he looked at their hangdog expressions, his anger faded. “Why do you do this? Every time I think we’ll have a nice day, you ruin it with your horrible behavior.”

      Tears brimmed Ivy’s eyes, and even Holly looked crestfallen. He knelt on the ground, the snow wetting his knees. “I don’t enjoy being upset with you. Do you know that?” He slipped his arms around them. “But you can’t keep acting like this. Instead of being proud of you both, you disappoint me, and …” His voice locked in his throat.

      Instead of responding, Ivy threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “We’ll be good, Daddy.”

      Holly only nodded.

      He gazed at Ivy, wanting to remind her that she’d said the same thing before.

      “I suppose we can’t make a snowman now.”

      He rose without answering and unlocked the car’s door. After the girls slipped in, he pulled away from the restaurant still weighing his thoughts.

      As he approached Third Street, he turned right. Instead of home, he headed for Harrisville State Park. For once he was doing something for himself and in the process, delayed the snowman issue. He loved seeing the untrodden snow along the breadth of the shore and the white snowfall weighing the evergreen boughs.

      The girls’ muttering let him know СКАЧАТЬ