Kitabı oku: «I'll Be Home for Christmas and One Golden Christmas», sayfa 3
Nick’s bellowing call from the den brought her head up. Rushing through the swinging door, she flew down the hall to the other room to find him standing in front of the tree she and the children had put up that afternoon.
“What’s this?” he asked, his hands on his hips, his chin jutting out as he stared at the eight-foot-tall evergreen.
“It’s a Christmas tree, of course,” she said, wondering why the fresh-cut tree seemed to be bothering him so much. “Henny called a nursery and had it delivered.”
Nick ran a hand through his hair and gave another long sigh. “I told her in no uncertain terms, that I did not want a tree in this house.”
“She never mentioned that to me.”
“No, I don’t suppose she would have. Well, too late to take it down now.”
Finding her courage, Myla stepped closer to the tree to touch one of the brilliant ornaments she’d found in a huge box in the garage. “The children had such a great time decorating it, I’d appreciate it if you would try to enjoy it.”
Nick’s gaze moved from the tree to the woman at his side. Her eyes were almost the same shade as the lush branches reaching out toward him. And they sparkled every bit as brightly. He couldn’t deny her this one concession to his rigid holiday rules.
“Okay. The tree can stay up, but no more decorating without consulting me first, no matter what Henny tells you.”
“All right.”
He didn’t like her tone or the hurt look in her eyes. “What are you thinking?”
She smiled then, but her eyes still held a certain sadness. “That you have a beautiful house. Six bedrooms, is it? And four baths? And those sunrooms. I’ve always loved having lots of live plants in a sunny room.”
Nick hadn’t really noticed the plants. He shrugged, his gaze sweeping casually over his surroundings. “It’s almost too big for a bachelor and his baby sister, but it’s home.”
“Is it?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Is it what?”
“Home?”
“I live here, don’t I?”
“Yes, but…oh, never mind. This place is like something out of a dream, but it just seems as if something is missing in this great, old house.”
She’d sensed it, when she’d gone through the rooms earlier, dusting and gawking at the same time. The house was as reserved and cool as the man who lived in it, and just like him, it cast out a false sense of contentment.
Nick sighed, then turned to go. “Don’t try to analyze me, Myla. There’s nothing missing here. Everything is as it should be.”
“If you say so.”
She watched as he left the room and stalked up the curving staircase. How sad that he couldn’t enjoy the holidays. Myla wondered what had made him this way. She turned back to the tree, her gaze fixed on the gold and white angel watching her from the top of the sturdy blue spruce. “I think Nick Rudolph needs your help,” she whispered.
An hour later, the house was filled with the sound of laughter tinkling on the air as crystal glasses tinkled with ice. The aroma of mulling cider wafted through the night while the fire in the massive marble fireplace located across one wall of the den crackled and popped. Myla viewed the cluster of people scattered around the tree, making sure each guest had plenty to eat and drink, while she listened to the carefully selected group’s conversation.
“Nick, I love the house this year,” a stout woman covered in diamonds said between bites of puffed pastry stuffed with artichoke filling. “I haven’t seen it this festive and bright in a long time.”
Nick’s smile was all calculated charm. “Glad you approve, Dottie. I’m not much on the holidays, but my new housekeeper insisted I put up a tree, at least.” He guided Dottie away from the tree, then said, “Remind me to show you Rudolph Oil’s fourth-quarter report. I’d love to have you serve on the board again. We could use your input.”
Clearly enthralled, the woman practically preened. “You know, I’ve been telling Jacob we need to reconsider that decision.”
Jacob, a tall gray-haired man, listened diligently. “Whatever you say, dear.”
Nick grinned, then caught Myla’s eye. He saw the disapproving look she cast his way and wondered what he’d done to offend her. Excusing himself from Dottie, he cornered Myla by the buffet.
“Is everything all right?”
“Fine,” she replied, her gaze scanning the crowd. “Would you like another glass of soda?”
He finished off the cool liquid left in the bottom of his glass, then shook his head. “No, but I’d like to know why you were glaring at me earlier.”
“No reason,” she said, busying herself by putting out more cans of soda for his guests. “I was just watching you work the crowd.”
“And you disapprove?”
Myla gave him a direct stare. “No, I’m just surprised. One minute you’re acting like a regular grizzly bear and the next you’re turning on the charm.”
Recalling their earlier encounter right here in this room, Nick replied, “Look, I’m sorry I got angry about the decorations and the tree. You were smart to spruce this place up…and it looks wonderful. Perfect.”
“Glad you approve,” she said, not at all convinced of his sincerity.
Sensing that she didn’t exactly trust his motives, Nick smiled over at her. “I do approve. So far, everything’s going according to schedule. And I owe that to you.”
Before she could respond, he turned away to greet some more guests, leaving her with the memory of his aftershave. She’d smelled it earlier when he’d entered the kitchen. He was a handsome man. A self-reliant man, who liked to rule over his domain.
This was his world, not hers. She’d had a similar life with her husband, but now…now, she intended to make her own way, with her faith to shield and guide her. She wouldn’t put her trust in another ruthless man. And Nick Rudolph was exactly that.
She watched him play host to the hilt as he mixed business with pleasure and made her feel like an out-of-place Cinderella watching the prince dance with all the other girls at the ball.
“Bill, you rascal,” Nick said, laughing as he playfully slapped the tall, blond-headed man on the back. “How are things looking for your re-election to the Senate? Can I depend on you down in Baton Rouge?”
“Can I depend on your donation to my next campaign?” Bill countered with a hearty laugh, thus beginning a rather long and detailed account of his political aspirations. His wife, a slender brunette in a pricey red pantsuit gave a bored smile as her eyes fell across Myla, then moved on.
The look of dismissal galled Myla, but she knew her place. She’d been poor before she married Sonny Howell. And now, she’d come full circle. She could afford to be gracious to the woman; she’d once been so like her.
Once again, Nick excused himself from his guest to head toward Myla with a purposeful stride. Afraid that she’d done something wrong again, she moved to meet him.
“Everyone’s here except—” Nick stopped in mid-sentence when a loud screeching noise, followed by a bellowing bark and the crash of dishes, rose from the back of the huge house. “What was that?”
The doors of the kitchen burst open as a tall woman with flowing blond hair ran into the room, her black dress clinging to her slender curves.
“Carolyn?” Nick looked surprised, then laughed in relief. “Leave it to you to make a grand entrance.”
The lovely Carolyn fumed with indignation. “Nick Rudolph, how dare you laugh at me? It’s bad enough that you stood me up last night, but now this. You’ve got to do something!”
“Do what?” Nick looked confused. “What’s the matter?”
The other guests had gathered around now, each waiting and watching as Carolyn pulled at a torn spot in her black hose. “It’s Pooky,” she said on a low moan. “He’s in the kitchen—”
Another wailing scream rose from the kitchen, followed by a growl and another scream, this one human. Several loud crashes joined in with the screams.
Nick plopped his glass down on a walnut table. “What’s going on in there?”
Carolyn moaned again and tugged at her hair. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Nick. I brought Pooky along with me to ward off muggers and when I went to put him in Henny’s room, a…a cat ran out and now Pooky’s chasing the crazed creature around the kitchen and when I tried to stop him, well…that cat lurched into my leg and well, look, a fifteen-dollar pair of nylons ruined.” Tossing her evening bag and black velvet cape into Nick’s face, she added, “And I’m bleeding. You know I’m allergic to cats!”
The uproar in the kitchen increased now, the crowd moving in closer, each guest hovering near the swinging doors, afraid to go in and see what Pooky and the mysterious cat were doing to each other.
“Cat?” Nick shook his head. “I don’t have a cat.”
Another scream brought Myla into action. Pushing through the dazed spectators, she called to Nick, “The children!”
“Children?” Carolyn eyed Nick suspiciously. “I thought I saw something unusual hiding behind Henny’s couch. Nick, what’s going on here?”
Nick looked over at Carolyn, prepared to explain everything until he heard Myla’s low agony-filled moan. That moan did not bode well, not at all. Giving Carolyn’s things to the skinny brunette in red, he dashed toward the kitchen. The sight that greeted him caused him to echo the same low-pitched moan.
A tabby cat, scrawny and hissing, sat on a blade of the still ceiling fan, one paw extended in the attack position while a howling, barking Saint Bernard sat underneath, his tongue fairly hanging out of his big, toothy mouth as he waited for the next chase to begin.
Patrick sat in the middle of the counter, surrounded by what had once been the carefully arranged entrees for the dinner party. Now those entrees were not only arranged all over the counter, but also all over Patrick and all over the once white tile floor. Jesse hovered in the doorway leading to Henny’s apartment, her wails matching pitch with the cat’s. The Saint Bernard, tired of playing chase with the pitiful cat, turned and started lapping up what remained of the platter of roast that Myla had carved so lovingly and garnished with parsley and star-burst carved cherry tomatoes.
Myla’s eyes met Nick’s. Of their own accord, her hands came up to cover her face. He’s going to send all of us packing, she thought.
Nick’s face burned with a rage born of shock. “What happened here?” His voice grew deeper and more deadly with each word. “Would someone like to tell me what in blazes happened in here?”
The room, filled with twelve warm, curious bodies, remained silent, except for the occasional hissing from the ceiling fan and the melodious lapping on the tile floor.
“I’m waiting.” Nick circled the carnage, his eyes brown with a fire of rage. “I want some answers, now!”
Finally, a feeble voice rallied from the direction of Henny’s room. Jesse stepped forward, shivering with fear, her eyes bright with freshly shed tears. “Mamma, we forgot to tell you about the cat,” she said before she burst into another round of high-pitched sobs
Chapter Three
The door leading from the garage burst open. Lydia bounced into the room, wearing a black crepe dressy pantsuit, her blond bob shining as brightly as her diamond earrings.
Myla recognized her from the many pictures of Nick and Lydia hanging around the house. But Carolyn…was she Nick’s girlfriend? Nick had been busy doing a good deed last night and now look what it had caused him. Even Lydia’s upbeat mood didn’t help the situation.
“Sorry I’m late,” she began, her earrings twinkling like twin stars, “but I had to stop by—” Her eyes registered shock for a split second before she burst out in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. “Food fight? Nick, why didn’t you tell me? You know how I love to throw my food at you!”
“Not now, Lydia,” Nick said, his growl more pronounced than the drooling Pooky’s. “We’ve had a bit of an accident and I was just trying to get to the bottom of it.”
“Looks like Pooky here beat you to it,” Lydia countered, rushing forward to pet the massive Saint Bernard. “Hey, boy, what did you get into this time?”
“It’s not Pooky’s fault,” Carolyn said as she sidestepped a pile of shrimp dip to comfort the hyper dog. “I walked over for the party, so I brought Pooky with me. I had no idea that a cat and two strange children would attack us when we entered the back door.”
“Next time, try using the front door like the other guests,” Lydia replied sweetly, though her eyes indicated she felt anything but sweet.
“Ladies, please,” Nick said, raking a hand through his crisp dark curls. Turning to Myla, he watched as she knelt to comfort her sobbing daughter. Instantly, he regretted his anger from before. “Jesse, how’d we manage to acquire a cat?” he asked, his tone deceptively soft, his eyes centered on Myla as if to say this is your fault.
Jesse looked up to her mother for reassurance. Myla, stung by Nick’s anger and by Carolyn’s highhanded attitude toward her children, shot him a defiant look. Thinking she could kiss this new job goodbye, she patted Jesse on the shoulder. “Just tell the truth, honey.”
Jesse took a deep breath to clear away another round of sobs. “Mr. Nick, I’m sorry. But today when Momma was getting stuff ready for your party, me and Patrick went for a walk out in the backyard. We weren’t supposed to, ‘cause I’m sick and Patrick gets into stuff, but we snuck out…. Anyway, we heard a cat meowing behind that big building by the pool. Patrick came back in the house when Momma wasn’t looking and got some food for the cat. It was real hungry.” Sniffing, she looked up at Nick. “We wanted to help it so it wouldn’t freeze to death, like you helped us, Mr. Nick.” She wiped her nose again with her hand, her big blue-green eyes wide with the importance of her confession.
Nick looked uncomfortable, but Myla saw the touch of warmth Jesse’s innocent words had provoked in his eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the cat, sweetie?” she asked her daughter, her heart breaking. Jesse loved animals. She’d never let one starve or stay out in the cold, in spite of her allergies around certain animals. Hunger wasn’t pretty—in animals or humans.
“We were afraid you’d make us let it go,” Jesse said, dropping her eyes to the floor.
“Yeah, and we didn’t want Mr. Nick to kick us out,” Patrick piped up as he held out his dip-covered fingers. “I tried to catch it, Mamma, but it was too fast. And besides, I’m scared of that big dog.”
“Pooky wouldn’t hurt a flea,” Carolyn protested, looking from one child to the other accusingly. Then she turned to glare up at Nick. “You told me you helped some people out last night; you didn’t tell me they were staying in your home.”
Bristling, Myla shot Carolyn a proud look. “I’m working for Mr. Rudolph while his housekeeper is on vacation.”
“Working for Nick?” Carolyn whirled around. “Is that true—even after what you told me last night?”
Nick’s look warned her to drop it. “Things have changed since then. I’ll explain later.”
Myla’s eyes met his. He was embarrassed, but she saw the hint of an apology. He was too much of a gentleman to make a scene. Obviously though, he’d avoided telling Carolyn everything. Wondering if he was ashamed of her being here, Myla felt like a circus sideshow.
Deciding she’d really give them all something to talk about and try to save Nick’s reputation and her much needed job in the process, she pinned Carolyn with a level look. “Yes, it’s true. Mr. Rudolph was kind enough to help us out last night. You see, we’ve had a rough time lately. We’ve been living in our car.” That statement caused an audible rumbling through the room, but it didn’t stop Myla. “He found us stranded on the interstate during the ice storm, and he brought us here. Knowing I needed a job, he asked me to work for him while his regular housekeeper, Henrietta, is on vacation. And as long as he doesn’t have a problem with that, I don’t, either. I’m just very thankful that he was kind enough to care about my children and me.
“The Bible says, ‘Blessed are ye that hunger now: for ye shall be filled. Blessed are ye that weep now: for ye shall laugh.’ Yesterday, I was hungry and weeping. Today, thanks to Mr. Rudolph’s kindness, I’m warm and full and laughing, in spite of all of this mess.” Dismissing Carolyn’s surprised, cynical look, she turned to Nick. “Isn’t this the true spirit of Christmas? You took us in, when there was no room at the inn. You did something entirely unselfish. It’s the best Christmas present I could ask for, and I thank you. And I take full responsibility for my children’s actions.”
Nick stood still, in shock. He should be angry that she’d turned his party into a sermon on the mount. Instead, he felt a great rush of warmth moving through his body. Ashamed, he blinked to hold back the blur of tears forming in his eyes. He’d never seen a woman as brave as Myla Howell. She had more courage among this crowd of cutthroats than he’d ever possessed, ruthless as he was supposed to be.
Of course, her courage was one thing. Being called a pushover was quite another. Glancing around, he waited for the looks and whispers that were sure to come. But to his surprise, his guests didn’t condemn him or laugh at him. They came, one by one, to pat him on the back.
The senator was the first in line. “Perfect, my friend. Helping the homeless is one of my campaign pledges. I’ll hold you up as an example.”
That comment was followed by Dottie’s tear-filled pledge. “How could I ever doubt your sincerity again, Nick? Jacob and I will be happy to serve on the board of Rudolph Oil, and I intend to call our broker first thing tomorrow and instruct her to buy a substantial amount of Rudolph Oil shares.” Then, glancing at Myla, she whispered, “And I’ll leave a check for your housekeeper, too. A little Christmas gift. Such a tragedy.”
“But…” Nick didn’t know what to say. Myla had single-handedly turned a disaster into a public relations dream. Now, after giving her eloquent speech, she went on to introduce herself to the group and assure them that they would have a decent meal, after all.
Sending Nick a daring look, she called, “Pizza, anyone?” Then, turning to him with a gracious smile, she whispered, “You can’t fire me now.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispered back, his eyes full of a grudging admiration, and his heart full of something warm and unfamiliar.
All the guests started talking and laughing, except Carolyn. Myla saw the blonde throw Nick a scrutinizing look.
Carolyn stood, then smiled sweetly at Nick. “Since when did you find religion, Nicky?”
Nick didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “Carolyn, why don’t you wait for me in the den?”
“I’ll order the pizza,” Lydia said, jumping over broken dishes to find the phone. “How about three vegetarians and three with pepperoni and sausage, all large with extra cheese?”
Everyone clapped their approval. Lydia herded the humans and Pooky toward the den. “Just make yourselves at home while I dial the emergency pizza number.”
Carolyn gave Myla a cold look, then pranced into the den with the rest of the crowd. As she walked past Nick, she said, “We really need to talk.”
Nick watched her go, then turned to stare at his wrecked kitchen, before settling his gaze on Myla and her daughter. Lifting Patrick down, he sent the little boy scooting toward his mother. A long sigh escaped from deep within Nick’s lungs as he watched Patrick hug Myla’s neck and smear her with shrimp dip. How could he be mad at them when they stood huddled together as if he were about to issue an order for their execution?
“I’ll clean it up immediately,” Myla said, her voice firm while her hands shook. “I’m so sorry, Nick.”
He held up a hand to ward off her apology. She’d put up a good front for his guests, but he could see she was visibly upset. She’d said she’d handled a few dinner parties, but never one such as this, he’d wager.
“It’s okay,” he said, pushing away his questions for now. Swallowing the lump of pride caught in his throat, he added, “Thanks. You sure handled that better than I did. You made me sound like a saint.”
“Saint Nick,” Patrick said, giggling as he wiped a glob of dip on his pajamas.
“Not a saint, Patrick,” his mother corrected, “just a very kind and understanding man.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Nick retorted, smiling in spite of himself. “You obviously have me confused with someone else.”
She wouldn’t let him get away so easily. “Oh, no. I know what I’m talking about. You’re uncomfortable in this role, being heroic, I mean. What happened to make you so afraid of reaching out to others, Nick?”
Lydia hung up the phone, interrupting before he could answer. “I can’t believe Carolyn. She knows that dog doesn’t belong at a dinner party. She should have left the big brute at home to run around on that two-acre lot she calls a backyard.”
“She brought him along for protection,” Nick said, glad to change the subject.
Lydia snorted. “I’ve never know Carolyn to need protection.”
“Careful, sis.”
Lydia turned to Myla and the children. “He’s right. I have to remember not to judge too harshly. It’s so nice to meet you. Nick’s told me all about you.”
Myla looked at Nick. Yes, she was sure he’d called Lydia first thing this morning, telling her how much he regretted being a Good Samaritan. “Well, he apparently didn’t tell Carolyn all about us.”
Getting back to the immediate problem, Nick said, “I’m not worried about Carolyn or her dog right now.” Motioning toward the fan, he said, “What about that?”
The cat still sat on guard, its bright yellow eyes narrowing suspiciously each time anyone made a move.
“We’ll get it down and clean it up, don’t worry,” Lydia said. “How about we call it Shredder, kids?”
“Yeah, Shredder,” Patrick agreed, clapping his sticky hands together.
“Who said we were going to keep it?” Nick asked, his hands on his hips.
“The worst is over.” Myla turned to Lydia. “Would you mind getting Shredder out of the way so I can clean this up?”
“Sure.” Lydia called softly to the frightened animal. “We’ll take him to Henny’s sitting room and teach him some manners while you two straighten things out.” The meaningful gaze she shot her brother told him she was referring to much more than the mess on the floor.
“Gee, thanks.” Nick pulled off his navy-and-burgundy patterned wool sweater, then rolled up his blue shirtsleeves so he could get down to work. “Lydia, you just want to see me get my hands dirty, right?”
Lydia bobbed her head and grinned.
Myla stepped forward as Lydia bribed the cat down with a piece of roast beef. “Nick, you don’t have to help.”
The animal refused to come into Lydia’s arms, but did jump down and run into the safety of Henny’s apartment. Lydia and the giggling children followed, discussing the now famous battle with animation.
Left alone, Nick and Myla could only stand and stare around them. Everything was ruined. Nick moaned softly when his eyes lit on the mashed remains of his prized coconut cake.
“You have guests,” Myla stated, picking up the cake plate to remove the source of Nick’s woes. “Go ahead. I’m sure Carolyn needs comforting after her horrid ordeal.”
Nick heard the sarcasm in her words and saw the twitch of a smile pulling at her lips. He relaxed and smiled back, his eyes meeting hers. “Carolyn Parker and I grew up together,” he explained. “She’s divorced and rich, and expects me to jump when she calls. We escort each other around town on various occasions. And about last night—”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me.” Myla sidestepped a pile of spinach salad. “Your social life is your business. But why didn’t you tell her everything…about me?”
“Because I didn’t think I owed her an explanation. I didn’t feel the need to go into detail about your situation.”
“That was considerate,” she said, thinking he was one of the most gentlemanly men she’d ever met. Then again, maybe he used his impeccable manners as a shield.
Nick tried to take the flattened cake from her. He wanted a little taste of that wonderful cake before she threw it out. “I’m glad you understand.”
“Oh, I understand.” She turned, looking for the trash can. “And I’m really sorry the children ruined your party.” He tried to pry the cake out of her hand, but she pulled it away. “Nick, I’ve got it. Why don’t you get a mop from the—”
Nick made one last-ditch effort to reach for the cake, leaning forward from the waist so he wouldn’t have to step in the pile of spinach salad. But just as he lunged forward, Myla turned to dump the cake in the trash.
Nick came crashing against her, knocking Myla completely off balance. The cake sailed up as she whirled around. He got a taste of his cake, all right, in the face, as he slipped in salad dressing, with cake and Myla sliding right into his arms. By the time the impact was complete, Myla had cake all over her face and shoulders, too. Unable to move or breath, she watched as Nick licked creamy almond-colored icing off his lips.
His arms holding her, and the remains of the mushed cake, against him, he asked, “Are you all right?” When she nodded, he licked his lips again, causing something like kindling wood to spark and curl in Myla’s jittery stomach. “Ah, that’s so good,” he said, lifting his hands to dump the ruined cake into the trash. “I could have handled anything but losing my coconut cake. I think I’m going to cry.”
Myla huffed a breath, then turned to find a towel. “Please, if you do, don’t mess up the floor.”
“Very funny.”
Nick raised a hand to take the towel from her, his fingers gripping her wrist. Lifting her head, she saw a set of bronze-colored eyes lazily assessing her. Gone was the cold indifference, the quiet reserve, and in its place, a heated brilliance that took her breath away.
“Let me go, Nick,” she said on a soft whisper.
“Wait, you have a big glob of cake on your right cheek.”
Reaching up, she touched her face. “I’ll get it off. Now, let me go so we can clean up this mess.”
“Let’s start right now.”
Before she could move or protest, he began wiping her face, his fingers gently lifting icing and cake filling off her cheek, his amused gaze causing sparks to ignite again in her stomach. She tried to pull away, but he held her steady.
“Right there.” He took the towel and wiped it across her jaw. “Yep, that’s it.” He held her away to inspect his handiwork. “All clean now.”
Myla could only stare at him. What on earth was the man trying to do to her? Here she was, covered with cake and shrimp dip, in the middle of his kitchen, with her children and his sister in one room and a pack of hungry guests as well as a jealous girlfriend in the other. Everything was ruined, and Nick should be angry with her. Instead, he was treating her with such intense concern that she thought she might cry from the sheer sweetness of his gesture. She could have handled his anger; his kindness was much harder to bear.
“Are you finished?” she managed to ask as she gritted her teeth to keep the lump in her throat from choking her.
Nick, seeing the torment in her eyes, stood back, then carefully wiped bacon-and-mustard salad dressing from his khaki trousers. Thinking he’d made her uncomfortable, he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, Myla.”
To calm her own wayward feelings, Myla turned to the sink. “It’s all right. I…I’m just surprised that you didn’t…that you aren’t—”
“What?” Confused, Nick tugged her around again.
Myla sighed, then took the towel from his hands. “You should be mad—I promised you everything would work out fine tonight, and now I’ve ruined your party. Why didn’t you just get mad at me?”
A bit amused, Nick lifted a brow. “So, you’re upset because I’m not upset?”
She bobbed her head. “Yes. No! I mean, I could have handled you shouting and ranting. Why did you have to be so nice to me?”
Nick watched as she frantically tried to wipe the counter, not knowing how to comfort her. “I am so sorry,” he repeated, a mock glare coloring his face. “What was I thinking?”
“Exactly,” Myla agreed, unaware that he was smiling behind her back. “You don’t have to be nice!”
Nick understood that she wasn’t used to any tenderness and that realization bothered him. What had she suffered, to make her so wary of a kind gesture? He wanted to ask her, but decided she’d just clam up if he tried. So instead, he teased her. “I promise, if this happens again, I’ll try to be justifiably angry.”
She whirled around just in time to see the sparkle in his eyes. Hiding a smile, Myla relaxed a little. “Guess you miss Henny, huh?”
He laughed. “Yeah, but her dinner parties were never this exciting, I have to admit.” Pivoting, he said, “I’ll go get the mop.”
Her hand shot out to stop him. “Wash your face first.”
Lydia stuck her head around the corner from Henny’s apartment. “By the way, Nick, I thought you both should know—I stopped by Magnolia House on my way over here. They’re full, probably will be until well after the first of the year. But Myla, I did put your name on the waiting list.”
Myla looked up at the man who’d saved her, praying he’d let her stay until she could find somewhere else to go.
Nick didn’t say anything, but she could tell by his blank expression that he wasn’t too pleased with the news. Together, they silently cleaned the kitchen while Lydia got the children and Shredder off to sleep.
Finally, when they’d finished and the whole room had been restored to order, Nick turned to Myla. “Well, at least you can stay here until the first of the year.”
“Yes, and I’m thankful that the good Lord led me to you.”
He gave her a puzzled look, then said, “Maybe it’s the other way around, Myla.”
