Mistletoe Twins. Lois Richer

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СКАЧАТЬ them to the side of the house, in through the back door and into her favorite room, the kitchen.

      “Adele!” Her aunties—Margaret and Tillie Spenser—sat at the massive kitchen table having tea, just as Adele had expected. Tillie was pouring while Aunt Margaret snuck a wafer from the stack on a plate.

      “We didn’t hear you arrive.” Margaret jumped up and hugged her so tightly Adele could barely breathe—and she loved it. “We’re so glad you’ve come home, dear.”

      “Thank you. I’m so glad to be here.” She should have come back right after her breakup with Rafe, Adele mused as Tillie’s embrace followed, just as tight, just as welcome.

      The elderly women bent to study the twins. “Who have we here?” Tillie asked.

      “I’m Francie. An’ this is my brother, Franklyn, an’ that’s Delly—”

      “They already know me, sweetie.” Adele helped the children shed their coats. “These are my foster aunties.” She introduced them.

      “How come you have—” Francie paused in her usual litany of questions when someone rapped on the door.

      “This is a busy place.” Tillie hurried to welcome their guest. “Mac, dear! I didn’t know you were home.”

      Adele whirled around, thrilled to see the man who’d been her best friend since the day she’d arrived at The Haven with her three foster sisters more than twelve years ago.

      “Mac McDowell!” She hurried forward and wrapped him in a hug. Her heart dropped when her very best friend eased away a little too quickly. That was when she noticed how his coat sleeve hung empty from the elbow down. She gulped and refocused. “It’s good to see you, Mac.”

      “Good to see you too, Delly.” Mac’s easy smile flashed. Then he stepped around her to greet Tillie and Margaret.

      “Hey, you said Delly.” Franklyn studied him curiously. “That’s our name for Adele.”

      “It was mine before it was yours.” In a quick sleight of hand Mac, who’d always adored kids, produced two candies from behind their necks that he then offered to them.

      Adele introduced the twins, then asked, “How did you know I was home, Mac?”

      “I didn’t. Dad sent me to talk to your sister. He says Victoria wants our stables to offer a trail ride business.” He shrugged. A wry smile played with his lips. “Dad doesn’t think the Double M can handle it, mostly I think because he feels overwhelmed by the ranch these days. But apparently she’s been insistent so he wants me to refuse her. I’m guessing Victoria’s still very, uh, strong-minded?”

      “We call it determined,” Margaret agreed, eyes dancing. “That’s why we’re happy to have her running The Haven for us—”

      “I’m sorry, Mac,” Tillie interrupted her sister. “You’ve missed her. Things have changed around here. Victoria is married now, to Ben Adams. They’ve adopted Ben’s nephew Mikey and they have a daughter, baby Grace.”

      “Yes, and today, while Mikey’s at school,” Margaret continued, “Victoria, Ben and Grace are spending some family time together in Chokecherry Hollow.” She smiled. “They won’t be back from town till after school. But please join us for tea. Or coffee, if you prefer.”

      “Thank you.” Looking somewhat confused by all the information, Mac shrugged out of his sheepskin coat and hung it on a peg by the door. “I’d love some coffee.”

      As she’d done a hundred times before, Adele automatically pulled the coffee canister from the fridge and started the brewer. She also made fresh tea for the aunties and, at their request, but a little hesitantly, selected two china teacups and saucers for the twins.

      Adele deliberately waited until everyone was seated at the table and the aunts were busily engaged in explanations to the twins about the proper way to drink their tea-flavored milk from fancy china.

      Under the cover of their conversation she murmured, “Want to tell me what happened with your arm, Mac?”

      “Lost half of it after I crashed my plane. I didn’t think the ground was quite so close. Some test pilot, huh?” The indifferent shrug and quirky lopsided grin that had been Mackenzie McDowell’s trademark since the day he’d pulled Adele’s hair in fourth grade now lifted the corner of his mouth. “Since everything below my elbow was amputated I can’t fly anymore.” He shrugged in apparent nonchalance. “I need to figure out a new way to earn my living.”

      That was typical Mac. Play down his pain and suffering. Except Adele could see fine white lines at the edges of his glacial-green eyes and etched deep around his mobile lips. She knew he still suffered. She also noted that he gave few details about his accident. Because he was still in pain or because he’d done something wrong? She wanted to hear the whole story, but she’d wait until he was ready to tell her.

      “I’m very sorry,” she whispered as she squeezed his hand.

      “Thanks.” Mac immediately withdrew his hand. “Oh, wait.” He rose and walked to the door. He leaned out to grab something and returned with a handful of bedraggled and grubby—what?

      “Uh, thanks. I think.” Adele accepted his offering gingerly. “What are they?”

      “No clue, but Mom said your aunts could use them.” Mac made a face but this time he wasn’t pretending. Adele knew all about his mother’s propensity for inventing recipes to use what most people considered weeds. “Herbs?” he suggested.

       Not like any herbs I’ve ever seen.

      “Maybe.” Adele studied the stalks dubiously. “I’ll set them on the window ledge until we’re ready to use them.” Which will be never.

      Gingerly she laid the bundle down, recalling a long-ago potluck at Chokecherry Hollow’s First Avenue Church, a white-steepled building in the little Alberta town five miles away. The entire membership had become ill from eating Mrs. McDowell’s “open range” salad.

      Not going to happen in my kitchen. When she lifted her head, Mac was studying her with a look that said he knew she hadn’t a clue what the stalks were for.

      “Don’t tell your mom I didn’t recognize her herbs, okay?” Adele begged. “I’ll figure it out eventually.”

      “Or you’ll make up some crazy name for them like you did for that science experiment we did in Mr. Burnder’s sixth grade class. Esponsidonia, wasn’t that what you called that oozing pink gunk that spilled out of our volcano?” He tilted his handsome head to one side and asked, “How come you were the only one who didn’t get spattered by it?”

      “Because I moved out of the way.” She blushed when he hooted with laughter.

      “Oh, the times I tried to get some dirt on you.” Mac shook his head, his smile lingering. “Never seemed to work. Two seconds later you were back to polished perfection, even then.”

      “I like clean and tidy,” she defended.

      “I know, kiddo.” Mac’s empathetic smile said explanations weren’t needed. He’d never needed them; СКАЧАТЬ