A Mrs. Miracle Christmas - Debbie Macomber Page 0,37

dear friend, Mary Lou, who’d once lived in the neighborhood. It’d been delightful to reconnect.

“Oh goodness,” Helen exclaimed when she suddenly realized what day it was. “Is this Laurel’s big day at the school? I need to get up and get ready.” Helen knew how important this holiday program Laurel was overseeing was to her granddaughter.

“That’s not until tomorrow, love.”

“Oh good. No way am I missing it. Laurel would never forgive me, and I wouldn’t forgive myself!” Helen tossed aside the covers and climbed out of the bed with some help from Mrs. Miracle. Laurel had talked of little else but this massive production involving the entire elementary school. Each class contributed in some way, with either a skit or a singing performance. The school band, as young as the children were, would be playing as well. Her granddaughter had worked hard, spending countless hours of her own time to ensure that the performance would be entertaining not only for the students but for the myriad family and friends who would be attending.

Helen finished dressing. She felt energized and excited for Laurel, and for Christmas. She’d done more this year to prepare for Christmas than she had in recent memory—baking cookies, preparing the Christmas cards, decorating the tree, socializing with old friends and new—and it was all due to her angel friend. The Christmas tree, however, stood out above all else.

Funny thing, that tree. Helen had wanted to work right alongside Mrs. Miracle with the decorating. She’d tired quickly, however, and decided to rest in her chair. She’d only briefly closed her eyes—or so she thought. When she looked up again, the entire tree was finished and marvelously decorated.

In mere minutes. It would be impossible for that to have happened in such a short time, yet Helen had witnessed it herself. She decided that it had to be a trick—some sort of angel trick. She would have doubted such a thing were possible if it hadn’t happened right in front of her.

Once in the kitchen, Helen took a seat at the kitchen table. Ever helpful, Mrs. Miracle placed a cup of tea in front of Helen, along with a single slice of toast, smothered with her favorite raspberry jam.

“You’d better eat something if we’re going to be gallivanting off to new adventures.”

“That is a perfect description of what we’ve been doing ever since you arrived, isn’t it? Gallivanting,” Helen said, smiling over the top of her teacup. The warm liquid soothed her throat. Oh, how she enjoyed her morning tea. Orange pekoe. She must mention it to Mary Lou, who she knew loved tea as much as she did.

Mrs. Miracle sat across from Helen. “How are you feeling today?”

“Wonderful. I’ve made plans with Mary Lou to stop by after the holidays, and we’ve made a date to play Scrabble. She’s a knitter, and from what she says, she has quite the stash of yarn.” But then, in her opinion, one could never have too much yarn.

Mrs. Miracle wore a silly grin, holding back some amusement, then covered her mouth and giggled before shaking her head at Helen.

Helen stared at her quizzically and raised one delicate brow.

Setting the teacup aside, her companion saw the look. “You need to forgive me. I was thinking about something rather entertaining. Laurel will be calling the agency today to check on my references and employment history.”

“She’s doing what?” It was far from humorous to Helen. She was upset that her friend’s credentials would be in question. “Whatever for?”

“Zach and Laurel have concerns about me.”

Helen noticed that Mrs. Miracle showed no signs of distress. “Concerns about what?” She wished Laurel had asked for her opinion. Helen had no complaints at all. In fact, she was eternally grateful for Mrs. Miracle, and now considered her a close friend. It distressed her that those two had gone behind her back about this.

As though reading her thoughts, Mrs. Miracle held up her hand. “No worries, love. I’m afraid I might have brought this on myself.”

“You? What could you have possibly done to warrant this?”

Leaning back in her chair, the other woman sobered. “I mentioned something to Zach that I should have kept to myself. That young man is a quick study. Don’t worry, Helen, there’s no need for concern. It’s being handled. All is well.”

That left Helen with even more questions. “Did you slip and tell him about the baby?”

“No, not directly. It was something I implied. Some mention of the future, but Zach picked