Little Christmas Miracles: Her Christmas Wedding Wish / Christmas Gift: A Family / Christmas on the Children's Ward. Carol Marinelli

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      Molly squeezed his hand. “It’s all right,” she whispered, but she wasn’t sure she believed it herself. The house was huge, but the stone façade made it look cold and unwelcoming. The air, too, was cold and windy, furthering the impression.

      Molly was going to have to buy a coat. Good thing she was earning a lot of money on this job.

      Pasting a smile on her face, she said, “Come on, Toby. It’ll be fun. We can explore.”

      She helped the little boy out of the vehicle and shivered as a cold wind blew.

      “Hurry inside so you’ll be warm,” Richard said.

      Since they parked in the driveway beside the side entrance, Molly assumed he meant that door. She opened the door and led Toby inside. They were standing in a small entryway next to the kitchen.

      Suddenly there was a flurry of movement as three people rushed forward. Toby pressed against Molly, but the male and two female strangers passed them by and greeted the Andersons.

      The younger woman took Mrs. Anderson by the arm and led her away. The man, tall and wiry, was sent to the vehicle to bring in the luggage. Richard consulted with the other woman.

      Molly and Toby stood there, not sure what they were supposed to do.

      Richard stepped toward them. “I’ll show you your rooms if you’ll follow me.”

      Molly nodded and followed him, Toby clinging tightly to her hand. No wonder. He had sounded as remote as a hotel employee. They went up a grand stairway to the second floor. He turned left and led them down the hall to two rooms side by side.

      “These rooms are actually connected by a door inside. I thought you might want to leave the door open the first few nights Toby is here, Molly, if you don’t mind.”

      “No, I don’t. That’s a good idea, right, Toby?”

      Richard opened a door. “This will be your room, Toby.”

      Molly walked into the room with the little boy. “This is great, isn’t it, Toby? You have a lot of windows and you can look at the garden behind the house. When it’s warmer, you may be able to play there.”

      The man nodded. “Of course.” Then he crossed to another door and opened it. “This will be your room, Molly.”

      It was beautiful, not what she expected. She laughed to herself as she realized nannies were housed in the attic only in gothic novels.

      “Thank you, it’s lovely, Richard.”

      He frowned, as if she’d said something wrong. What could it have been? She’d smiled at him, trying to be gracious.

      “Yes, well, I need to see about my mother. If you need anything, please ask Delores or Louisa. They’ll be glad to help you.”

      So they’d already been handed off to the staff. Molly nodded in response, but she didn’t say anything. If she’d spoken, she might’ve said the wrong thing. The man had been kind to Toby when he’d shown him the room, but it was clear he was going about his business as usual.

      One thing was certain: Richard Anderson did not have a kind heart.

      One thing was certain: Richard was irritated with Molly. Condemnation fairly glowed in her green eyes. He had a lot of things on his plate. He’d brought her here to help Toby settle in okay. That was her job. And he wasn’t going to be chastised for doing his job by someone he’d hired.

      He shook his head as he went to the other end of the house where his mother’s suite was located. Tapping lightly on the door, he stood waiting for it to open.

      Louisa came to the door.

      “I’d like to see my mother. Is she asleep?” he asked.

      “No, sir.” Louisa stepped aside and swung the door wide. Then she silently made her way out.

      Richard took the chair opposite his mother, in a sitting room professionally done in southwestern decor. He noticed she looked tired, drawn, much the same as she’d looked for the past year and a half. The depression had taken its toll on her. And now, the funeral.

      Before he could speak, she said, “You know, Richard, ever since the incident between Susan and your father, I’ve regretted her leaving. But never like I regret it now.” She looked up and there were tears in her eyes. “She ran away because of your father—but I had nine years to make it right and never did. I was too afraid to cross him.” The tears spilled down her cheeks now as she said, “And after he died, I was too distraught and depressed to make the move. I thought I had more time…”

      Richard reached out and took her hands in his, rubbing the tops of her hands with his thumb. Her skin was soft and firm, and he realized as he looked at her just how lovely a woman she was. Elizabeth Anderson had once been in the Dallas social scene, a benefactor, an organizer, a supporter of the arts. She had a closet full of designer gowns and suits for the variety of functions she’d attended and chaired. But in the last eighteen months she’d spent most of her time right here in this room. Had he done enough to help her through her hard time?

      He could certainly help now.

      “You know, Mom, the incident had nothing to do with you.” Funny, he thought, how they referred to it—“the incident.” As if giving it a generic name made it more ephemeral, less real. But the day Susan walked out couldn’t have been more real. He remembered it as if it were yesterday, though it was almost a decade ago. It was the day everything changed.

      Susan and their father, James, had always butted heads. He was an autocrat and Susan a free spirit—a doomed combination. When James laid down a law, he expected it enacted, but his sister had a hard time conforming; she was confident and eager and resented her father’s strict hand. But that didn’t deter James. He tried to control everything: her clothes, her friends, her studies. But the day he’d tried to control her heart was the end. He’d found out she was seeing a young man behind his back, a young man from a working-class family who was studying to become a teacher. Kevin Astin was far from the rich, privileged, connected man James had wanted for Susan. He gave her an ultimatum: ditch him or get out.

      Susan opted for the latter. In an hour she’d packed her bags and left Highland Park for good. In nine years she hadn’t ever been back.

      She moved to Florida with Kevin, whom she married almost immediately. And a year later they had Toby. The nephew Richard had never seen until yesterday.

      In the intervening years he’d spoken to Susan twice, and his mother never, both fearful of James Anderson’s wrath. Not that he’d ever been physical with them; but his disapproval took other forms, equally distasteful. Somehow it had just seemed easier to agree with him, or at least conform to him.

      Richard realized he was equally to blame. Nothing, no one, should have kept him from his sister, kept Elizabeth from her daughter. But there was nothing either of them could do now, except pray for forgiveness. And care for Toby.

      He told his mother all that, and she listened to him. After a while her tears stopped, her sobs turned into steady, even breathing. She held his hand and almost mystically he could feel her pain exiting. He knew nothing could ever erase the agony she’d suffered, but Elizabeth was on the way to recovery.

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