Mrs. Miracle 01 - Mrs. Miracle(6)

“But, Reba…”

Her mother was unwilling to drop the subject of Christmas. This was bound to be the first of many such conversations.

“Mom, don’t. This is hard enough. Let me know if Vicki wants to come Christmas Eve or Christmas Day and I’ll be there when she won’t. If that isn’t agreeable, I’ll simply skip Christmas this year.” The holidays weren’t that important to her. Not any longer.

“You can’t do that.”

“Just let me know when Vicki plans on being at the house, all right?”

Her mother’s sigh was deep and heartfelt, heavy with defeat and sadness. “Tell me, what would it take to heal this rift between you and your sister?”

Reba didn’t hesitate. Not for a moment. “The answer’s simple. It would take a miracle.”





Chapter 3


Feed your faith and your doubts will starve to death.

—Mrs. Miracle





The doorbell jingled at the worst possible moment. Seth was doing his damnedest to get dinner on the table. Cooking had never been his forte. Try as he might, he couldn’t manage a simple casserole without forgetting one ingredient. It was already past seven, and everyone was cranky and hungry. The house was a disaster, which was no surprise, and he was in no frame of mind to deal with the Avon lady.

Jason had taken it upon himself to help him by pouring the milk. Seth had tried to tell him he was too small to manage a gallon container, but Jason wouldn’t listen. By the time he turned to stop him, it was too late.

“I’ll get it,” Judd shouted, tossing aside the Nintendo game as he rushed to the front door. Two seconds later he glanced over his shoulder and yelled at the top of his lungs, “It’s for you…. Some lady.”

Seth jerked off the apron, set aside the milk-soaked sponge, and stalked to the front door.

“Yes?” he muttered impatiently without looking. He never did understand why salespeople found it convenient to call during the dinner hour. Surely research would tell them how irritating it was to have a meal disrupted.

“Mr. Webster?” An older, grandmotherly type stood under the golden ray of the porch light. Her eyes were warm and kind, her smile wide and friendly. She carried a wicker basket under one arm and waited expectantly for him to respond.

Seth couldn’t take his eyes off her. The porch light appeared to enshrine her, as if she were the source of the light, which of course was ludicrous. She was the storybook image of—he hated to say it—Mother Goose. She was round and soft, her gray hair pinned into a loose bun, with dimples and the most loving eyes he could ever remember seeing.

“I’m Seth Webster,” he said after an awkward moment.

“I thought you must be. I’m Emily Merkle. The agency sent me.”

The agency. Seth couldn’t believe his good fortune. There was a God, and He was willing to overlook Seth’s bungling attempts at fatherhood. Willing to give him one last chance to redeem himself.

Before she could find an excuse to leave, he grabbed the new housekeeper by the arm and dragged her inside the house. Apparently Mrs. Hampston hadn’t had time to complete the complaint sheet against him. In the past week he’d telephoned the employment agency a dozen times, only to be told he’d already gone through every domestic employee the company handled. He wasn’t about to question his good fortune now.

“Welcome, welcome.” No truer words had ever been spoken.

She glanced about, a look of shock on her face. “Oh, my.”

Seth viewed the room with fresh eyes. A load of clean laundry littered the sofa. Jason had attempted to fold the towels and had decided to iron them first. Seth had discovered it just in time to prevent him from burning down the house. As a result, three fluffy yellow bath towels showed the charred black imprint of an iron. While Seth had been occupied cooking dinner, Judd decided to help his brother fold clothes. Unfortunately his assistance consisted of hauling out the drawers from every dresser in the house. By the time Seth had discovered what the two were doing, clothes cluttered the carpet and furniture until the room resembled Filene’s Basement during the biggest sale of the year.

“Dinner’s ready. You’ll join us, won’t you?” Seth said quickly, fearing his new housekeeper would turn tail and run before he could convince her to stay. On second thought, canned tomato soup and toasted cheese sandwiches would reveal exactly how desperate he was for help.

“I realize it’s inconvenient for me to arrive at the dinner hour….”

“Inconvenient? No way,” he countered swiftly. By now she must have guessed the truth. “You’re welcome any time.” Judd stood beside him, but Jason had wrapped his arms around his leg and held on with the strength of a boa constrictor.

Walking was a shade difficult with Jason attached to his thigh, but Seth managed to pretend nothing was amiss. He wanted it to look as though he often loped across the house with a six-year-old connected to his leg.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I decided to bring dinner along with me.”

Seth’s gaze dropped to the Red Riding Hood–style basket draped over her arm. A tantalizing scent of rosemary and sage wafted lazily toward him.

“It’s a specialty of mine, chicken pot pie.” She advanced into the kitchen and set the basket on the only clear spot available on eight feet of countertop.