A Celebration Christmas. Nancy Thompson Robards
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said let’s be friends like a big stack of homemade pancakes. After Cullen made his awkward exit, Lily did her best to put the racy contents of the text she wished she’d never read out of her mind.
It wasn’t easy to erase the image of Cullen doing the things Giselle had so graphically described in her message. The only problem was her brain kept imagining Cullen doing those things to her.
Lily wasn’t a prude—she’d been engaged and had enjoyed a healthy relationship with her fiancé before everything turned south—but those thoughts were so inappropriate when she was supposed to have her mind on the kids. For God’s sake, the thoughts were inappropriate even if she wasn’t watching the kids. Cullen Dunlevy was her boss. And even as progressive and open-minded as she fancied herself, she certainly was no Giselle.
She forced the thoughts out of her mind—or at least relegated them to the very back, dark corners of her overactive imagination—and fired up the griddle she’d brought with her. She made cheerful small talk with the kids as she mixed up a batch of pancake batter for them.
She let them flip their own, which the girls loved. George, however, was less than impressed. He slumped on a bar stool at the kitchen island, kept his head down and his attention on his handheld video game while the three girls enjoyed their breakfast and chatted among themselves.
“Come on, George. Will you please put down the game for five minutes so you can make your pancakes?” Lily cajoled. “It’ll be fun.”
George didn’t answer.
“Just five minutes, George, please? That’s all it will take.”
Nothing.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Lily said. “If you’ll make your pancakes, I’ll let you lick the bowl when we make sugar cookies after breakfast.”
George looked up, his eyes glossy with irritation. “Doesn’t Uncle Cullen pay you to make my breakfast?”
Lily’s eyes widened at the boy’s cheeky response. She walked around to the same side of the island where George was sitting, pulled out the bar stool next to him and sat down.
“Your uncle Cullen pays me to look after you.” She took care to keep her voice even and soft. She was used to dealing with the occasional conflict like this in the classroom, but George’s attitude grew from a place of hurt. The boy probably felt angry and displaced after losing his parents and the adoptive parents who had agreed to take in his sisters and him. He was in limbo and unsure where they would end up, much less if he and his sisters would be able to stay together. Of course, Cullen said keeping the kids together was his goal, but Lily couldn’t help wondering how realistic it was, especially given that he was intent on finding them a place by the end of the year.
The boy had returned his attention to his video game, his thumbs stabbing angrily at the buttons on the device. What George needed more than a battle of wills over pancakes was some compassion and understanding.
Lily stood. “Okay, if you don’t want pancakes for breakfast, you can have milk and cereal. Help yourself.”
George didn’t respond. He simply poured himself a bowl of oat cereal, skipping the milk. He took his breakfast and his game and headed into the other room.
“George, don’t you want to help bake cookies?” Lily asked, giving it one more try.
George turned around and glared at her. “No.” He started to walk away.
“Then what would you like to do?” Lily asked. “I don’t think your uncle Cullen wants you spending your entire Christmas break playing video games.”
He leveled her with a blank stare.
“I could get you some books if you’d like to read.”
He grabbed a handful of cereal and shoved it into his mouth.
“Or if you don’t want to read, tell me some of the things that you enjoy doing—besides video games.”
“Not baking,” he said. “Baking is for girls.”
She thought about telling him that some men were pastry chefs and they were actually quite famous for it, but she knew there was no sense in trying to win him over.
“On the radio this morning, I heard about a boys’ basketball camp that’s going on during the holidays over at the community center,” Lily said. “Would that interest you?”
His expression changed. It wasn’t quite what you’d call agreeable, but it was a far cry from the defiant make-me face he’d worn just a minute ago.
“If you’d like, I can talk to your uncle Cullen about getting you signed up for it.”
He nodded, then turned and disappeared into the next room with his cereal and game.
When the girls were finished with their breakfast, Lily put Hannah and Bridget to work measuring flour into large bowls. She had Megan creaming butter and sugar together. Her plan for the day was to have the kids make and decorate Christmas sugar cookies. She also wanted to teach them how to make a Christmas bread called stollen, a confection filled with dried fruits and marzipan.
“A long time ago, in Germany,” she said, “they used to make a huge loaf of special Christmas bread called stollen. It had all kinds of fruits and spices and a special filling. It weighed tons and it was big enough to share with everyone in the city. They’d bring it out and feed everyone.”
Megan was squinting at her. “They ate stolen bread? Who did they steal it from?”
“No, it wasn’t stolen, as in illegally taken from someone,” Lily said. “It’s called stollen. It sounds the same, but it’s completely legal. Believe me, I wouldn’t teach you about anything illegal.”
“How big was it?” Megan asked, still looking as if she wasn’t buying the story.
“What?” Lily asked.
“You said the stollen bread loaf was big enough to feed the entire city,” she said incredulously. “How big is that?”
“This big?” Hannah hopped off the bar stool and held out her arms wide.
“Oh, much bigger than that,” Lily said, winking and playfully waving her off.
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