13
Just as Miranda and Emily went into the outdoor store where Emily was certain they could find the perfect gift for her dad, Miranda’s phone chimed.
She paused by a stuffed and mounted wolf to see a text from Rick.
Joy had stabilized enough to be transported to Phoenix and was en route there.
Miranda texted back, thanking him for the update and saying she would be keeping Joy in her prayers.
Then, since her phone battery was almost dead, she turned it off, reminding herself to get it recharged when they got home.
“That is great news!” She briefly explained to Emily that Joy was doing better. “Now, what should we get for your dad?”
“Last time we went camping, he lost his favorite pocketknife,” Emily explained. “I want to get him one just exactly like it.”
“Do you know what kind of knife it was?” Miranda asked as they walked through the store.
“It was red with a little cross on it,” Emily told her.
“A Swiss Army knife?”
Emily shrugged. “I don’t know. But he said he’d had it for a real long time.”
When they found the correct department, Miranda asked to see their Swiss Army knives.
The salesman laid a selection on the counter and Emily carefully examined all of them.
Finally she pointed to the one she thought was just like her dad’s.
“See,” she explained to Miranda, “it’s got tweezers. Daddy used those if I got a splinter.”
“Then we’ll take that one,” Miranda told the salesman. She turned to Emily as he was wrapping it for them. “Do you want to get him anything else?”
“Nope.” Emily firmly shook her head.
Miranda smiled. “Okay, looks like we can get home and start baking Christmas cookies now.”
Emily’s eyes lit up. “The kind with colored frosting?”
“That’s right. And you’ll be in charge of the frosting part.”
“Cool!”
Miranda laughed. “Yeah, cool.”
As they left the store, snowflakes were starting to flutter down.
Emily did a happy dance the whole two blocks to where Camilla’s car was parked.
By the time they were on their way home, Miranda felt like doing the happy dance too.
Emily’s enthusiasm was contagious. And hearing the little girl’s squeal of pure joy when she spotted her colorfully lit up house through the heavily falling snow made Miranda burst into laughter. She couldn’t wait to tell Joy about it.
“Emily’s dad will be home in less than two hours,” Camilla told Miranda as she dropped them in the driveway. “He’ll stop by our house as usual to pick up Emily, but I’ll let him know she’s already at home.” Camilla’s eyes looked slightly concerned. “Anything else you want me to tell him?”
“No way!” Emily exclaimed. “Don’t tell Daddy anything at all. I want him to be really, really surprised.”
Miranda felt a bit uneasy but nodded to Camilla. “Okay then. This is Emily’s show . . . let’s do it her way.”
“Come on,” Emily tugged on Miranda’s hand. “Let’s go make Christmas cookies now—before Daddy gets home!”
Miranda thanked Camilla for the ride and wished her a merry Christmas before she followed Emily back into the house.
The cookie dough and frosting that Miranda had left in the kitchen were nicely thawed, and after a brief search unearthed a rolling pin, they were rolling out the dough.
“Here are the cookie cutters Christmas Joy sent for you.” Miranda produced the red tin containing a variety of holiday shapes. “Go for it.”
Emily let out another shriek of delight as she examined the shapes, galloping the reindeer across the counter and flying the angels through the air.
After a little while they finally got the first pan into the oven.
Miranda was trying not to be obsessed by the clock, but she really wanted to be done with this before Emily’s dad got home.
It wasn’t that the kitchen was a mess, but it wasn’t as tidy as it had been, and Miranda was determined to leave his house in the best shape possible.
“Your daddy is really good at keeping house,” Miranda said as she slid in the second cookie pan.
“He doesn’t do that,” Emily said as she put her muscles into rolling the last clump of dough flat. “We got a housekeeper. Rose comes on Tuesdays and Fridays.”
For some reason Miranda felt relieved to hear that Emily’s dad wasn’t some kind of compulsive neat freak who would throw a fit if his otherwise perfect house was a bit out of order.
“What do you think your dad will do when he sees what we’ve done?” Miranda asked as she scrubbed off the counter where they’d been rolling out the dough.
When Emily didn’t answer, Miranda turned to see her face. But she was so intent on decorating the cookies with frosting . . . Maybe she hadn’t heard the question. Or maybe it was a question better left unanswered.
When the last batch of cookies were out of the oven and everything except the frosting area was cleaned up, Miranda remembered the final instructions Joy had written out—the things she needed to do when Emily’s dad got home.
Worried that she might forget something, Miranda had torn this page from the notebook and slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans. She studied the last bit now.
She was supposed to greet Marcus and give him the copy of Emily’s letter to Christmas Joy. And before she left, she was supposed to give him the box marked “To Marcus, from Christmas Joy” as well as the Santa suit. She was supposed to do the last two things in private.
Miranda patted the pocket of the elflike velour hoodie she’d borrowed from Joy.
Emily’s letter was still safely tucked in there.
And the gift for Marcus as well as the Santa suit were safely stashed in the laundry room.
While she was really curious what was in the rather heavy big box, she was even more curious what Joy thought Marcus—the man who refused to celebrate Christmas—would do with an old Santa suit.
However, she knew that was none of her business.
It was something that Marcus would have to sort out for himself .
. . with his daughter. Miranda could only hope and pray that it would all go well.
And knowing Joy—and her ability to bring happiness to others—Miranda figured it would all work out okay.
She glanced out the kitchen window to see the snow was really getting heavy.
Hopefully she’d be able to make it safely to the RV park in town.
If nothing else, she would put on her emergency flashing lights and just drive very slowly.
Hopefully other motorists would be understanding.
And once she got the RV set up, she would just stay put until the roads got cleared.
Because the RV park was right in town, she knew that she could walk to get anything she needed.
And it might even be fun to be holed up during a snowstorm.
Plus it would feel good to just stay put a few days . . . and rest.
“What’s going on in here?” a deep voice boomed from somewhere in the house.
“Daddy!” Emily yelled so loudly that Miranda dropped the cookie sheet she was putting away, making a sharp bang that sounded like a gunshot.
“Emily?” the voice called out in alarm.
“In here!” Emily jumped down from the stool she’d been perched on, running and leaping into the arms of a tall, dark-haired man who rushed into the kitchen. “Welcome to the Christmas house, Daddy! Isn’t it wonderful!”
“What is going on?” he demanded as he looked into his daughter’s face with concern. “What happened? Furthermore, how did it happen?” Now he spotted Miranda standing—or perhaps cowering—by the sink. She felt just like the proverbial deer in the headlights. “And who are you?”
“I’m Miranda.” She nervously reached into the pocket of the bedazzled green hoodie, suddenly wishing she’d worn something a bit more stylish .
. . or even taken a shower. “And this is for you.” She handed the stunned but attractive man the rumpled letter.
“Emily wrote in to a contest. To the Christmas Joy website and—”
“Camilla helped me,” Emily explained with excitement. “And we won, Daddy! I didn’t even know we won until today. Camilla kept it a secret ’cause she knew I might tell you. And that would spoil everything.”
“Camilla was in on this?” He looked skeptical and confused . . . and, Miranda had to admit, strikingly handsome. His wavy dark hair had a few tinges of silver and his jawline was firm.
“Yeah. Did you see the Christmas Joy bus outside?” Emily asked. “And Christmas Joy couldn’t come ’cause she’s sick. But now she’s better. And she sent us Miranda. Miranda is Joy’s helper.” Emily held up a messy-looking cookie with sticky fingers. “And we made these. Want some?”
“Not right now.” Marcus eased Emily down to the floor, still looking perplexed and slightly aggravated.
“I know you must be, uh, surprised,” Miranda began apologetically. “But maybe if you read Emily’s letter it would make more sense.”
“Maybe . . .” He looked seriously irked as he ripped open the envelope.
“And I have something else for you too.” Miranda stepped backward, making her way to the laundry room as he frowned down at the letter.
Relieved to be out of his kitchen, she partially shut the door and leaned against the washing machine, trying to steady herself.
It wasn’t that he was angry exactly. Or maybe he was.
But she just felt so embarrassed—as if she’d been caught trespassing.
None of the other Christmas Joy visits had felt anything like this.
And the sooner she got out of here, the better!
She picked up the two boxes Joy had prepared for Marcus and then remembered something. For some reason these were supposed to be given to him privately. But how? She peeked out the cracked open door to see he was still reading the letter. Was the letter really that long? Or was he just studying it?