Mrs. Miracle 01 - Mrs. Miracle(32)

“It’s time to go,” he stated with an eagerness that bordered on panic.

The twins and Reba looked saddened and surprised by his abrupt announcement.

“Not so soon, Dad.”

“What picture?” Reba asked, looking from Judd to Jason.

“It’s nothing,” Seth said, wanting to be on his way before the twins embarrassed him further.

“Judd drew a picture of a woman with short hair and a red dress,” Jason explained when it became obvious his father wasn’t going to explain.

“The woman in my drawing looks a lot like you,” Judd said, his eyes bright and eager.

Seth urged both his children toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said, hoping against hope to make a clean getaway.

“Tomorrow?” Jason perked up instantly.

“Ms. Maxwell is coming to the house for dinner,” he explained, and remembered that he hadn’t said anything to Mrs. Merkle about inviting company.

“Good-bye, Ms. Maxwell.”

“Good-bye, everyone.”

Seth heaved a sigh of relief as they headed toward the door. “She does look like the lady in Judd’s picture,” Jason said, and slipped his small hand into his. He seemed to be waiting for Seth to respond.

“A little,” he admitted reluctantly.

Jason looked over his shoulder and sighed expressively before calling out in a loud voice, “I hope you do marry my dad.”

“I beg your pardon?” Reba said.

“My dad,” Judd shouted. “We hope you marry him.”





Chapter 15


Scatter sunshine.

—Mrs. Miracle





The phone pealed just as Reba started out the door Sunday morning for church. She was tempted not to answer, afraid it would be her mother. She hesitated, then quickly crossed the room and reached for the receiver. It might be important. It might be Seth.

“Hello.”

“Reba, sweetheart, I wondered if you’d be up and about.”

Her mother. Reba gritted her teeth. She knew it would be more of this Christmas business, and she didn’t want to discuss it again. Her mind was made up, and all the talk in the world wouldn’t make her change it.

“Hello, Mom,” she said without any real enthusiasm. “Listen, I’m on my way out the door for church.”

“Church.” Joan Maxwell’s voice swelled with approval. “You’ve got a couple of moments to spare for your mother, don’t you?”

Reba wasn’t given the chance to say no.

“You remember Betty Gleason, don’t you?”

Reba didn’t; impatiently she glanced at her watch. She was meeting Seth and didn’t want to be late. “No, Mom, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“I attended the early church service and met up with Betty. She and Ernie were in this fancy Thai restaurant in Federal Way and she thought she saw you with a nice-looking young man.”

Reba swore her mother had informants who routinely reported her activities. “That was Seth Webster,” she said, making sure none of her feelings for the aeronautical engineer bled into her voice. It would be just like her mother to make more of this dinner date than there was.

“Seth Webster…” Joan Maxwell repeated the name slowly, as if saying it aloud magically released the information she craved. “Have you known him long?”

“Mother, I’m going to be late for church.”

“Are you meeting Seth there?”

The woman was a mind-reader. “Yes, and—”

“I think it’s a wonderful thing you’re doing, taking over the Christmas program at the last minute like this. You always were good with children. You don’t know how I’ve prayed that you’d get involved in the church again. I couldn’t be more pleased.”

“Did I mention that I was on my way to church?” she asked pointedly, not that it would do much good. Reba knew her mother all too well. She was on a fact-finding mission and wouldn’t let up until she’d ferreted out the information she sought.

“Tell me about Seth. Where’d you meet him? How long have you been dating?” All this came in one giant breath. “Betty claimed the two of you only had eyes for each other. She seemed to think the fire alarm could have gone off and neither of you would have noticed.”

“Mother—”

“Betty claims it’s clear that the two of you are serious. I do wish you’d said something to us before, sweetheart. It’s a bit disconcerting, not to say embarrassing, to have a family friend know more about what’s going on in my own daughter’s life than her own mother.”

“Mom. Church.”

“I know, I know, but the worship leaders generally start the service a few minutes past eleven. It won’t hurt to be a couple of minutes late. We’ve barely had a chance to talk. You so rarely phone me.” Her voice contained just the right amount of injury for Reba to experience a twinge of guilt. She did avoid calling her mother and for this very reason.

“Why don’t we meet for lunch one day next week?” Reba suggested. She was as susceptible to guilt as the next person, and her mother knew all the right buttons to punch.

“Tomorrow,” Joan Maxwell suggested. “I can’t wait to hear all about Seth. I’ll meet you at the agency at eleven-thirty. Don’t plan to be back in the office for an hour, either, okay?” Having said that, she hung up.