“Mrs. Winters never would let me. She doesn’t like messes.”
“Well,” Sarah said, stripping the little girl and helping her into the tub, “I don’t mind a mess if we do it together. You see, that’s the only way to learn. Now, if you promise not to try it by yourself again, maybe next week we can make some cookies together.”
Mickie’s eyes lit with excitement. “Really?”
“Really.”
Sarah quickly washed Mickie’s hair, then allowed Mickie to finish up. When she was done, she dried her off. “Can you pick out your clothes by yourself?”
Mickie gave her an exasperated look. “I’m not a baby,” she said. “I’ll be six January 10.”
Sarah bit back a smile. “Of course. I’ll be downstairs cleaning up the dining room. The chicken is done. I only have to finish vegetables and potatoes to finish. You can go get out three plates and the silverware while I clean up and finish fixing dinner.”
Evidently, Mickie thought she had the better of the two deals, because she didn’t argue.
Sarah reentered the dining room and dismally surveyed the white mess. What to do first?
She sighed. Deciding just to wade in, she gathered the play dishes and the tin of flour, which Mickie had somehow sneaked out of the kitchen, and set them all back in their places. After returning to the dining room, she simply swept all the flour onto the floor. Then she wiped down the table and china cabinet and every other piece of furniture that looked to have received a dusting of flour.
Once she’d moved the chairs out of the way, she pulled out the vacuum cleaner and began to vacuum. Mickie came in to set the table. “Place mats and napkins,” Sarah said, nodding to where she’d set them out on the beautiful mahogany table.
Sarah had to stop twice to check the potatoes and vegetables she had boiling and then to mash the potatoes.
Then she had to change vacuum bags.
She was getting tired by the time she reached the living room. That was how she explained her accident. Why else would she trip over the vacuum cord, unless all the dusting and vacuuming was tiring her? That and the fact the vacuum cleaner Justin owned weighed almost a ton. He really should have one of those lightweight models, not the monster that made her huff with exertion when using it. Add that to the fact that she hadn’t stopped running around since Mickie had entered the house three hours ago and an accident was obviously waiting to happen.
So, it was natural that, as she swept toward the entryway, her shoe tripped her up over the cord.
She squawked in surprise and went flying backward.
Windmilling, grabbing for purchase, Sarah teetered before succumbing to gravity. I’ll probably end up with a broken neck. Then Justin will gloat over just how unfit a parent I would make!
With one last effort to catch herself before she ended up splitting her head on the floor, she twisted. Instead of ground, a hard dark object arrested her mid-flight.
The dark object grunted.
In her peripheral vision she saw a briefcase go flying. Strong arms wrapped around her. Her rescuer teetered before both she and her victim continued their fall to the floor.
Splat.
The cessation of noise proved even more telling than her screech when she’d started down.
In the moment it took her to orient herself, she registered several things. The body beside hers was warm and comforting—one arm was still wrapped around her shoulders—and he was in good shape.
She lifted her gaze from the white shirt and tie to Justin’s sardonic expression.
She smiled weakly, wondering how to apologize.
He spoke first. “Don’t you think you’re taking this housekeeping job just a little too seriously?”
“Daddy!”
Hearing Mickie’s voice, Sarah immediately scrambled off Justin. “I’m so sorry. We had a little accident and I was sweeping. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and got tangled up in the cord.”
He stood, dusted off his suit, then scooped Mickie up in his arms. “Hiya, pumpkin,” he said, bussing her cheek.
Sarah winced at how Mickie was dressed. Blue striped shorts with an orange checked top. Justin blinked, cast a glance at Sarah, then returned his attention to Mickie.
She squeezed his neck. “Sarah made your favorite meal but we didn’t have time to bake a cake. I tried but made a mess, instead, and Aunt Sarah cleaned it up while I set the table.”
Justin raised an eyebrow and scanned the room. He hugged Mickie again before setting her down. “My favorite meal, huh?” He made a big show of sniffing the air. “Fried chicken?”
Mickie laughed and nodded.
“That’s great! Go upstairs and wash up. Let me get my briefcase and change. Then we’ll eat.”
Mickie immediately ran upstairs.
Justin gathered the contents of his briefcase and Sarah belatedly helped him. “So what’s the special occasion?” he asked as he snapped the lid shut.
Sarah fidgeted. She hadn’t expected to be questioned on what she had prepared. “I told Mickie I’d make her anything she wanted. And fried chicken with chocolate coconut cake was her choice.”
An indefinable emotion crossed Justin’s features before he sighed.
“Did I do something wrong?” Sarah asked, ill at ease with the unnamed emotion she’d seen.
“No.” He shook his head.
“I know Mickie was young when Amy died, but she still remembers Amy in her own way. Certain things stand out in her mind, while others have faded. But one thing she remembers is one of the last big meals Amy, Mickie and I shared together as a family. It was fried chicken and a cake for dessert. Amy had made it for my birthday. It’s not that it’s my favorite, though I do love chicken. But in her mind…”
He trailed off.
Sarah understood. “Children remember things differently. I suppose remembering the special times is her way of holding on to Amy.”
Justin nodded. “Mickie had a bad experience with the last housekeeper. The woman flat refused to fry food. She said it was bad for her. So the only time Mickie got fried chicken was when I fried it on the housekeeper’s day off. I couldn’t figure out for a long while why she wanted fried chicken until one day she told me it was my favorite. The story came out and I started seeing to it that we had it whenever Mickie requested it.”
Justin went to the entry closet and placed his briefcase in there. “The only time she asks for it is when she’s feeling insecure or sad.”
Sarah looked down at her hands. “Do you think I triggered her sudden insecurity?”
Justin sighed. “It’s possible. You knew Amy. Mickie has really been missing her mom lately. Maybe she just needs to be reassured that some things will stay the same.”
“You know, I think I need to mention I hurt her last night leaving without waking her up. She said her mom did the same thing.”
A spasm of pain crossed his face. “Yeah. Amy and I had a fight. When she left, she flew out of the house. Mickie was asleep.”
“She also asked if I could cook like Amy.”
Justin dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry, Sarah. Mickie doesn’t understand other people’s pain. She’s only a child.”