A Baby for Mummy. Cathy Gillen Thacker
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to be outdone by her older siblings, Kayla tugged on Emily’s blouse. “I’ve got to paint. Want to watch me?” She grabbed a brush so quickly she knocked over a jar of paint, splattering the table and floor.
Irritated, Tommy said, “Dad, make her get that stuff out of here!”
Kayla clamped her hands on her hips and tossed her long, disheveled blond hair. “I’m supposed to do my artwork in the kitchen, so I don’t make a mess on the carpet!”
Ava looked up from her book long enough to put in her two cents. “Yeah, well, your stuff is in our way, as always!”
“Kids, that’s enough,” Dan reprimanded them just as a stiff-legged older man with a white buzz cut walked in. Dan introduced him to Emily as Uncle Walt.
Walt looked at Dan, perplexed. “I thought you were cooking tonight, Dan.”
Dan shrugged. “Change of plans.”
Emily looked at Dan. Had she been lured here under false pretenses?
He flattened a hand over his heart. “I wasn’t going to try and rope you into it.” Dan grabbed a roll of paper towels and knelt to mop up the spilled paint.
“Why not?” Uncle Walt argued, lending a hand, too. “If she can cook and she’s here and it’s dinnertime…Anything she makes would have to beat your cooking.”
Dan took the ribbing with the affection it was given. “Thanks,” he said wryly. Standing, he tossed the towel into the trash and went to wash his hands.
“It doesn’t matter who cooks—meals around here suck,” Tommy grumbled.
Which made Emily wonder if the kids liked the food anywhere. “What about with your mom?” she asked, curious as to whether Dan’s ex had it any better when she had the kids. “What do you do for meals when you’re with her?”
The room suddenly grew very silent. No one volunteered anything. Feeling like she’d plunged headlong into quicksand, Emily forged on, searching for information. “I gather meals are a problem there, too, then.”
Another heartbeat passed. Then another.
Walt cleared his throat. “Didn’t Dan tell you? My great-niece hasn’t lived in the United States since she and Dan split up.”
Chapter Two
Emily only wished Dan had thoroughly filled her in before she’d accepted this gig. If he had, she would have known this was the kind of situation that tugged on her heartstrings. And hence, one she should avoid. Now, more than ever…
“Mom’s in Africa,” Tommy blurted out.
“Keep up, will you?” Ava scolded, shoving her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. “That was last week. She’s in China this week.”
“Whatever.” Tommy shrugged, edging toward the back door again. “The point is, she’s not here. She’s never here.”
Kayla picked at the rainbow-colored volcano she had built with her modeling clay. “Yeah, we wish she would come back to see us ’cause we miss having a mommy.”
Walt grimaced. “My niece is a physician for the International Children’s Medical Service, or ICMS.”
Which meant, Emily concluded, that Dan had full custody of their brood, with all the attendant joys and problems. As well as his ex-wife’s great-uncle. This was an interesting situation.
Dan paused, his expression filled with remorse. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear about that.”
Emily slowly exhaled, belatedly wishing she hadn’t asked a question that had upset the whole clan. On the other hand…what did the former Mrs. Kingsland’s ongoing neglect of her kids have to do with her? Nothing, she reassured herself firmly, since she didn’t expect to be here very long at all. This was Dan’s dilemma—not hers!
Kayla tugged on Dan’s sweater. “Dad, I need dinner now!”
Appearing frustrated he hadn’t made any strides toward solving his problem, Dan silenced the complaining with a motion of his palm. “Fine. We’ll order pizza.”
“Not again!” the two older kids said in unison.
Dan sent Emily a look as if to say, See what I’m dealing with here?
Kayla stomped her foot. “But I’m really, really hungry!” she wailed as tears pooled in her eyes.
“It’ll take at least an hour to get here at this time on a Friday night,” Ava predicted with a beleaguered sigh.
Once a problem solver, always a problem solver, Emily thought. “How about I just whip something up?” She figured she and Dan could talk and consult while she cooked. Then she’d be able to take her paycheck and exit, before she got hopelessly enmeshed in the ongoing family drama.
“Uh…that could be a problem,” Dan said.
Walt nodded. “We haven’t had a chance to go to the grocery store yet.”
“We only go on the weekends,” Kayla said.
Emily knew people generally had more in the pantry than they thought. “Just let me have a look.” She opened the fridge and realized she had her work cut out for her. They were right—pickings were meager. “I can handle it,” she said confidently.
“How long is it going to take?” Kayla asked, pouting.
Emily was already assembling ingredients on the counter. “Twenty minutes.”
“That’s faster than we could get a pizza,” Dan enthused with a grateful glance her way.
Happy a meltdown had been avoided, at least for the moment, Emily took charge. “In the meantime I need everyone to sit down with a pen and paper, and make a list of your favorite foods, along with everything you dislike, as well.”
Kayla began stuffing her modeling clay back into the airtight storage containers. “Daddy, can you write mine down?”
“Will do,” Dan promised.
Walt scrounged in the drawer next to the phone for pens. The older two kids sat down at the kitchen table. Emily filled a big pot with water and set it on to boil. Meanwhile, she chopped up half a pound of bacon into bite-size pieces and put all in a skillet to brown.
“What are we having?” Tommy looked suspicious.
Emily knew that to tell would only invite criticism and argument. “It’s a surprise,” she said with a firm smile. “Work on your lists.”
Ava frowned and looked at her dad. “Can she do that?”
Dan shrugged. “Looks like she already is. Come on, everybody. This is your one chance to have a say in what we’re going to have for future dinners around here.”
His logic worked. Everyone got down to business, thinking, writing, thinking some more. By the time Emily put a heaping platter of spaghetti carbonara, green beans with almonds and fruit salad on the center of the table, the pages were filled.
“Hey, that looks kind of good.” Tommy surveyed the fragrant pasta, sprinkled liberally with Parmesan cheese.
Kayla smiled. “Fruit salad is my favorite.”
“It smells incredible,” Walt said.
Dan held out a chair. “Sit down with us, please, Emily.”
She hesitated. Wasn’t this how she’d gotten into trouble before? By blurring the line between hired chef and family friend? “It’s not—”
“Typical, I know.” Dan’s smile was as kind as it was chivalrous. “But these aren’t usual circumstances.”
Emily still would have refused had it not been for the growling in her tummy and the