Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Birdie ran ahead of me to the kitchen. The doorbell rang before I even had a chance to follow her.
“That must be Dad.”
Sebastian went to open the door. My father wore his famous winter hat with the furry flaps on the ears.
“George! Glad you made it safely.” Sebastian patted him on the back.
Dad’s cheeks were red from the cold.
“How was the train ride?” I asked as I pulled him into a hug.
“Uneventful.” My father looked around. “Where’s Miss America?”
“I’m right here!” Birdie said, returning from the kitchen.
She ran to give my father a hug. “Sadie’s daddy!”
“Merry Christmas, sweetie. It’s so wonderful to meet you.”
He hugged her extra tight. I knew Dad must have been thinking the obvious: that she could be his granddaughter.
Sebastian took my dad’s coat. “What can I get you to drink, George?”
“Some of my daughter’s delicious rum punch would be nice.”
“I was just about to go make that, Daddy. Making a nonalcoholic version for Birdie first, then adding the rum to ours.” I winked.
Birdie and I ventured into the kitchen to start working on the evening’s fixings. We roasted chestnuts, made punch, and prepared trays of cut-up vegetables with various chips and dips.
Sebastian had had the chef at Bianco’s prepare a special lasagna for us, which was sitting in the fridge waiting to be put into the oven later.
At one point, Birdie fell into a daydream. Then she said, “My mom used to make little gingerbread men on Christmas Eve.”
My heart clenched. The fact that she was thinking about her mother right now had a profound impact on me. Here I was doing the best I could to be motherly tonight when in fact I’d never be able to replace Amanda.
“Really?” I said. “Gingerbread men. I love that.”
“I don’t remember everything she used to make. But I remember those and Mickey Mouse pancakes.” She shut her eyes momentarily, then said, “I don’t want to forget. Sometimes, I’m afraid I will when I get older.”
In that instant, I knew exactly what we needed to do.
“We won’t forget. Do we have the stuff to make gingerbread men?”
Her eyes brightened. “I think so? I know we have cookie cutters in the drawer.”
“I think we need to make them. And if we don’t have the ingredients, I’ll go out right now and get them, okay? I think we should make them every year in honor of your mom.”
She beamed. “Thank you. Mommy would like that.”
I ended up having to run out to the market down the street for a couple of the ingredients. Thankfully, it was open.
After I returned, we made the gingerbread men and frosted them.
Just as we were finishing, Sebastian walked into the kitchen.
“Just checking on things in here.” His eyes landed on the gingerbread cookies lining the tray. “You’re making gingerbread men. Now it makes sense why you ran out to the store.”
“Yes. Birdie informed me that her mom always made these on Christmas Eve.”
“Yeah.” He smiled. “She sure did.”
“I told her we need to make them every year.”
He stared at the cookies for a few seconds before looking up at me and mouthing, “Thank you.”
“Of course,” I mouthed back.
My father walked in. “Are those roasted chestnuts I smell?”
The four of us gathered around the island, noshing on all the delights along with the punch.
After carrying some of the items over to the coffee table in the living room, we gathered around the tree as my father told Sebastian stories from my childhood.
“So what did you ask Santa to bring you this year, Birdie?” my dad asked.
“Nothing,” she answered. “I have everything I need. Plus, I don’t know if Santa’s real anymore.”
We all looked at each other, unsure how to respond to that.
Sebastian tackled it first. “How do you explain all the presents every year, then?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s you. Maybe some of it’s real, but not certain parts? Like the chimney? I wrote to someone I thought was Santa. I told you that, Daddy. I used to think it was Santa answering me, but I don’t know if it was anymore.” She shrugged. “But good things have happened ever since.”
We fell into silence.
“I believe in good people,” she finally said. “But I’m still hoping for olives and a glam nail stamper this year.” She winked at Sebastian.
I sighed. Our little girl was growing up.
Our little girl.
Either way, she was. My girl. No matter what the truth was.
Sebastian got up from the couch. “Well, Birdie, you have to wait until Christmas morning to open your presents, because Santa wasn’t prepared tonight. But maybe now is a good time to give Sadie the gift we bought her?”
She jumped up and down. “Yes! I’m so excited!”
Is this it?
My heart raced. Was Sebastian about to propose to me with Birdie by his side? Were they going to ask me officially to be part of their family? I started to get a little choked up as they walked together to the bedroom.