Fairytale Come Alive (Ghosts and Reincarnation #4)(19)

Sally beamed up at her.

My, but she’s a gorgeous child, Isabella thought, her brain erasing of everything else.

She’d wanted children, badly. She could have borne dozens of them. She wanted a wild, happy house filled with photo frames of family snapshots and poorly crafted children’s art projects.

Unfortunately, she’d found she couldn’t have them. After years of heartbreaking tests, treatments and procedures she’d learned it was a complete impossibility.

It was also one of the myriad reasons Laurent replaced her, the other mostly had to do with the fact that he was a jerk.

“It smells pretty, like flowers,” Sally commented.

“That’s what it’s supposed to smell like.”

“How do they do that?” Sally asked and Isabella set the mat aside and crouched next to the child.

“They mix special oils with wax when it’s hot and liquid, like the top of that one.” She used her head to indicate the candle. “Then they pour it in and voila!” She threw her hands out and shook her fingers.

Sally giggled and asked, “Are they magical oils?”

Isabella moved the child’s long hair off her shoulder and replied, “Well, yes, I guess so, since they’re from nature and nature’s magical.”

Sally wrinkled her nose. “Nature’s not magical. It’s nature.”

Isabella leaned in close. “Then you haven’t seen a fabulous sunset or an apple tree in bloom or a Japanese oak in Autumn. I’d say all of those are magical.”

“To be magic, there has to be pixie dust,” Sally declared with authority.

Isabella smiled at her. “I think you got me there.”

“Sally,” a deep voice said behind them and they both jumped and turned to see Prentice standing inside the door.

“Mrs. Evangahlala has magic candles!” Sally cried.

Prentice’s eyes moved to Isabella and she held her breath as she slowly straightened. He watched her do this and then his gaze roamed down her body then up and over her hair.

Then, for some reason, his mouth got tight and his eyes moved back to his daughter.

“Sally, go put away your rucksack.”

“Okay,” she agreed happily then turned to Isabella. “Are you cooking dinner?”

Isabella kept her eyes firm on Sally when she answered, “Yes.”

“Can I help?”

Oh dear, what did she do with that?

She just stopped herself from biting her lip before saying, “I don’t think so, sweetheart. It mostly involves the stove and oven and that’s probably not safe.”

Sally’s face fell.

Instantly, Isabella felt like a screaming bitch.

“Maybe you can scoop out the ice cream for dessert,” she offered.

“We’re having pudding?”Sally screeched and her effervescence so surprised and charmed Isabella that she couldn’t stop herself from laughing.

“Yes, honey, you’re having pudding,” Isabella replied and stopped, glanced apprehensively at Prentice then back at Sally. “If it’s okay with your Dad.”

Sally whirled to her father. “Can we have pudding? Can we, can we, can we?”

“Books in your room,” Prentice answered. “We’ll talk about pudding later.”

Sally beamed then leaned toward Isabella and confided in a (very) loud whisper, “Daddy’d have said no right away if we weren’t having pudding.”

Isabella chuckled and then, all of a sudden, Sally threw her arms around Isabella’s legs.

She froze.

It had been a long time since anyone had touched her with spontaneous affection and she didn’t know if she’d ever, in her life, been hugged by a child.

It felt good.

Really good.

Lost in Sally, Isabella’s hand lifted and she lightly stroked the girl’s soft, beautiful hair.

Sally threw her head back, gave Isabella a sunny smile then dashed from the room.

Isabella watched her then her eyes moved to Prentice.

He looked ready to commit murder.

Oh dear again.

Before he could blow, Isabella spoke, “I need a word. Can you close the door?”

Prentice didn’t hesitate; by all appearances he needed a word too.

Or maybe several of them.

When the door clicked and he turned, Isabella quickly launched in, “The sundaes are Annie’s idea. So is all the food in your kitchen. She went shopping with me and got a little carried away.”

Prentice just stared at her but she was pleased to see he didn’t look like he wanted to strangle her anymore.

“She’s prone to doing that,” Isabella went on.

Prentice continued staring at her then he said on a sigh, “Aye, she is.”

Isabella couldn’t help it, it looked like she was getting away with it and she allowed herself a small smile.

Prentice’s eyes narrowed on her mouth.

She stopped smiling.

Then she started talking. “I’ll make dinner and then come up here. I’ll tell the kids I have jetlag or something. The hot fudge is already made, in the covered pot on the stove, you just have to heat it up and pour it over the ice cream. There’s whipped cream and cherries and I chopped up some nuts…” She hesitated when his face changed in a way she couldn’t read but she valiantly forged ahead mostly in order to get this over with, “If they like that kind of thing.” She paused again and he remained silent. “Nuts, that is.” More silence. “Kind of the All-American sundae.”