The Bonus Mum. Jennifer Greene

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СКАЧАТЬ time, thankfully, the old monster behaved. She grabbed a hot pad and pulled out a tray of cream puffs, all swelled up, their surface a golden-brown. Perfect.

      While the puffs cooled, she headed outside to cart in an armload of peachwood. Outside, a blustery wind bit her face with needles, but considering it was December 19, Rosemary figured she was lucky. There could be snow or a serious ice storm on top of Whisper Mountain by now. A little wind was nothing.

      Back inside, she knelt in front of the massive fieldstone fireplace. The grate already had a huge bed of snapping, orange coals, just needed a stir and a poke and fresh logs. Moments later, she had a sassy crackle of fire back, warming the whole living room.

      She stood up and stretched, dusting her hands. The MacKinnons had spent a lot of Christmases here when she was a kid. She couldn’t remember the last holiday when the place hadn’t been a complete wreck. By now, there should be a giant Christmas tree in the corner, already dropping needles. Dusty Santas and holiday tchotchkes should be cluttering every surface. Instead, there was no tree, no winking lights, no tinsel or glitter, no wrapping paper and crushed bows anywhere in sight. The place was fabulously tidy and clean.

      Truth to tell...she hated it. She had no problem working alone, being alone. But darn it, at this time of year she loved the chaos, the clutter, the razzle-dazzle, the messes, the feasts and for darned sure, the time with her family.

      This year she just couldn’t do it. So...she’d decided to ignore the holiday altogether. She’d work, and when she got sick of work, she planned a heap of silly distractions.

      Like wasting time on Judge Judy and old sappy movies.

      Like having cream puffs for dinner—with vanilla bean ice cream and hot, dark chocolate sauce. And cherries.

      She foraged for a big spoon, and had just pulled the steaming-cold container of ice cream from the freezer when the front door suddenly blasted open. She went to the kitchen doorway, figuring she must not have adequately latched the front door—but that wasn’t the issue at all. Over the wheeze and whistle of wind came the unmistakable sound of screams and cries. Human screams and cries. Girls. Children. Dozens of children, judging from the volume of cries.

      She dropped the spoon, dropped the ice cream, peeled out of the kitchen.

      There were children. Not a herd of them, just two girls, red-faced and shaking and crying.

      They spotted her, and as if identifying a woman was all it took to let go, thundered toward her in a nonstop sputter of tears and words.

      “You have to help us! There’s a bear chasing us! A huge grizzly bear! He wants to kill us!”

      “He’s right out there. We ran and ran. I ran so hard my side hurt and I still kept going—”

      “We didn’t know where we were going. Anywhere. We just had to keep running because it kept coming after us!”

      “It’s still out there! It could still get us!”

      “You think it could break windows? It was huge! I thought we were going to die!”

      “And what if there’s more than one? What if that bear was married and there’s a wife, too, and he has baby bears only they’re all big like that—?”

      Rosemary raised her hands, and finally managed to squeeze in a few words. “Hold it. You’re both safe. No bear is getting in here. Let’s get your coats off, sit down by the fire. I want to hear the whole story, everything you want to say, but let’s calm it down a few octaves, okay?”

      They’d closed the front door—slammed it, actually, and she bolted it. The front closet had a shotgun, locked on the top shelf. The girls’ jaws dropped when they saw it.

      “Are you going to kill the bear?”

      “Afraid I’m not much on killing anything. But I’m going to shoot a couple blasts in the air. There’s a good chance he’ll scare off.”

      “Oh. Can we watch?”

      “You can watch from the window. I’m guessing neither one of you are in a hurry to go back outside this minute, right?”

      “Oh. Right.”

      She looked outside, both north and east windows, before opening the door. If a bear had been close—seriously close—she would have smelled it. Nothing smelled quite like a wild bear. She didn’t want to steal the girls’ thunder by telling them grizzlies didn’t live anywhere near Whisper Mountain, South Carolina. Besides, black bears definitely did. They usually snoozed through the cold months, but never went into total hibernation. She stepped outside, clicked off the safety, and aimed a shot at the sky. Then a second one.

      She was only gone for a minute—max—but when she stepped back in and relocked the door, the girls were sitting on the old leather couch, staring at her openmouthed.

      “Something tells me you girls weren’t raised in the country,” she said wryly.

      That started them talking again. They came from Charleston. Their dad had taken them out of school a little early and rented this place on the mountain. They were doing the whole holiday here. It was because their mom had died about a year ago. Just before Christmas. She’d been Christmas shopping with them. A big truck hit her. Their mom died and both girls ended up in the hospital. They’d missed a heap of school, and Pepper had two casts, and Lilly really wrecked her left foot and had some scars, but not so much now. Anyway, their dad thought it’d be hard to have Christmas at home this year, because it was like an anniversary from when their mom died, so they were here. Having fun mostly. Until the bear.

      Rosemary took in this information between handing out drinks and waiting through bathroom breaks.

      At some point, one of them wandered toward the kitchen, and that started them on a different track. One picked up the dropped ice cream container, the other honed straight for the cream puffs. They immediately confessed that they’d never had a cream puff and didn’t think they could live another minute before trying one. They were desperately hungry. It was from all that running away from the vicious, angry bear.

      One of them abruptly realized that they should have phoned their dad right off—and promptly took out a cell. The line was busy, but that wasn’t a problem, because their dad never talked on the phone long, and rather than leave him a message that they’d been in terrible danger because of the bear, they figured they’d just call him in another couple minutes.

      Rosemary’s ears were ringing by then...but she’d more or less sorted them out. They were twins. Eleven. Lilly and Pepper. They were both blonde, both coltish and lanky. They both had straight, fine hair, shoulder length, but one had a red streak and the other had a green one. They had purple jackets that matched, skinny jeans, blue eyes...but not identical blue eyes. Lilly’s were uniquely blue, with a dark ring around the light blue iris—the effect was mesmerizing and striking. Pepper had a tendency to scrunch up her nose and prance around, restless, curious, irrepressible.

      They were both cute.

      They were both going to be breathtaking.

      Rosemary figured once they left, she was going to need a long nap. After they’d finished talking, they started on her with questions. How come she lived here? She really studied orchids? What was a university grant? So was she wearing a Duke sweatshirt because that’s where she СКАЧАТЬ