her voice, Shannon said, “She’ll be fine.”
“You want to be the one to tell her?”
“What do you say we get a pancake into her first?”
He tapped her nose. “Excellent idea.”
The friendly tap shouldn’t have made Shannon’s heart race, but it did. She pivoted away from him and returned to her pancake batter. They were staying another day as guests. Friends. Nothing more. But being friends meant no stress. No pressure. They could have a good time.
A good time, instead of a lonely, boring weekend.
Who would have thought the day before, when she’d stood trembling with fear over playing Santa’s helper, that today she’d welcome having a little girl spend the day with her?
She ladled batter onto the already warm grill and within minutes the sweet scent of pancakes filled the air.
As she piled pancakes on three plates, Rory found the maple syrup and took the pot of coffee to the table.
Finley eagerly grabbed her plate from Shannon. Without as much as a blink from her dad, she said, “Thank you.”
Shannon’s heart tweaked again. She glanced from happy Finley to relieved Rory. They had no idea how much their presence meant to her. Worse, they probably didn’t realize she was actually glad the snowplow hadn’t yet gone through. Their misery changed her incredibly lonely, probably bordering-toward-pathetic weekend into time with other people. Company for dinner the night before. Someone to make pancakes for. People who would eat lunch and maybe dinner with her.
And maybe even someone to bake sugar cookies with? A little girl who’d paint them with her child’s hand, giving them strokes and color and even mistakes only a child could make. Turning them into real Christmas cookies.
Rory pointed at his pancake. “These are great.”
Finley nodded in agreement. “These are great.”
“Thanks.”
Rory laughed and caught her gaze. “Thought you said you couldn’t cook?”
Her heart stuttered a bit. Not because he was paying attention to her, but because his dark eyes were filled with warmth and happiness. Casual happiness. The kind of happiness real friends shared. “I can’t, except for breakfast. But breakfast foods are usually easy.”
Turning his attention back to his plate, he said, “Well, these are delicious.”
Warmth filled her. Contentment. She gave herself a moment to soak it all in before she reached for her fork and tasted her own pancake.
Picking up his coffee cup, Rory said, “I can’t believe how much snow fell.”
“It is Pennsylvania.”
“How do you deal with it?”
“Well, on days like this, those of us who can stay in.”
“You play games maybe?”
Ah, she got what he was doing. He was paving the way to tell Finley they couldn’t leave. Probably hoping to show her she’d have a good day if they stayed.
“We do. We play lots of games. But we also bake cookies.”
Finley didn’t even glance up. Happily involved in her blueberry pancake, she ignored them.
Rory said, “I love cookies.”
“These are special cookies. They’re sugar cookies that I cut into shapes and then paint.”
“Paint?”
“With icing. I put colored icing on houses, churches, bells—”
Finley glanced up sharply. “You mean Christmas bells.”
Shannon winced. “Well, yes. I’m baking cookies for my family when we celebrate Christmas next week. But it’s still fun—”
“I hate Christmas!”
This was the third time Finley had said she hated Christmas. It wasn’t merely part of a tantrum or even a way to manipulate people. This little girl really didn’t like Christmas.
“Okay. So instead of baking cookies, how about if we play cards?”
“I thought we were leaving.”
Rory set his hand on top of Finley’s. “I’d like to leave. But I have to check to see if the roads are open. There’s a good possibility that we’re stranded here for another few hours, maybe even another day.”
Finley sighed heavily, like a billion-dollar heiress who’d just received bad news, and who would, at any second, explode. Shannon found herself holding her breath, waiting for Finley’s reply. Which was ridiculous. The kid was six. The weather wasn’t anybody’s fault. She was stuck and that was that.
Setting her fork on her plate, Shannon rose and said, “While I go to my room to check on the roads and call my staff, you drink your milk and finish your breakfast. Then we’ll put the dishes in the dishwasher and we’ll play Go Fish.”
Finley’s eyes narrowed and her mouth formed the upside-down U again. But Shannon ignored her. From her peripheral vision she watched Finley glare at her dad.
Without looking at her, Rory said, “I haven’t played Go Fish in years. I’m not sure I remember the rules.”
“It’s an easy game, Daddy.”
“Good. Then I should catch on quickly.”
Shannon took her plate to the sink. “Or maybe she’ll beat you.”
That brought a light to Finley’s eyes. When Shannon returned from checking the road conditions on the internet, calling her staff to say she wasn’t opening the store and calling the radio stations to alert the community that the store would be closed again, she returned to the kitchen. Finley eagerly helped clear the table, stacked dishes in the dishwasher and rifled through a kitchen drawer for a deck of cards.
“I had to close the store.”
Rory held up his cell phone. “I figured. I checked the road conditions. Nothing’s really open. Customers can’t get there anyway.”
As Finley approached the table with the cards, Shannon said, “So we’ll have some fun.”
Pulling a chair away from the round kitchen table, Rory said, “Yes, we will. Right, Finley?”
Finley sighed and shrugged, but also pulled out a chair and sat.
Shannon noticed that Rory more or less let Finley win the first game, so she went along, too. But when Rory handily won the second game, Shannon didn’t think it was out of line to play the third game without deference to Finley. But when she won, Finley exploded.
“You cheated!”
Shannon laughed. “No. Cheating takes all the sport out of a game. There’s no fun in winning if you haven’t really won.”
“I don’t care!” She swung her arm across the table, sending cards flying. But before her hand could slow down, she also thwacked her milk. The glass went airborne and landed on the floor. Sticky white milk poured everywhere.
Mortally embarrassed by Finley’s outburst, Rory bounced from the table. “Finley!”
Finley bounced off her chair and raced to the kitchen door. “I hate you!”
The swinging door slammed closed when she flew through it.
Shannon rose and grabbed the paper towels. “Sorry. I should have let her win again.”
Rory rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “No. We were playing a game. She knows she can’t win every time.” He rubbed his neck again. He’d only ever told his parents about the trouble in his marriage and he certainly hadn’t intended