the hallway behind Frannie. He put an arm around his daughter’s neck, getting her in a headlock.
“Dad,” she complained, pulling at his arm. “Let go.”
“Never.” He kept her there and looked over her shoulder at me. “Got time to go over a few things?”
I nodded, kissed Winnie’s head and pushed her gently from my lap. “Yep. Be good, Winn. I’ll see you later.” To Sawyer, I said, “Your daughter has rescued me by agreeing to watch my kids this afternoon.”
“She’s a good egg,” said Sawyer, squeezing her tightly.
“Thanks, Dad. Now let me go before I choke to death.”
Sawyer laughed as he released her. “You be careful out there. And call me if you don’t want to drive home later. I’ll come get you.”
“I can bring her back,” I offered. “Millie’s old enough to stay with the younger two, or I can toss them in the car.”
Sawyer hitched up his jeans and leaned down to talk to Winnie, hands on his knees. He never wore dress clothes to work—said he was a farmer more than anything else and was happiest outside in the dirt. “And how are you, peanut?”
“Good.”
“No school today?”
“I already went,” she told him.
“Ah. Well, if it keeps snowing like this, maybe you won’t have to go tomorrow.”
I groaned. “Don’t jinx us, Sawyer. I’ve got work to do tomorrow.”
“I can always watch them here if they want to come into work with you,” offered Frannie.
“Don’t you have to work?” I asked.
“My parents own the place,” she said, giving her dad a poke on the shoulder. “I don’t think they’d fire me for taking a day off. And maybe we could take the sleigh out again, Winnie. Would you like that?”
“Yes!” Winifred exclaimed.
“What we should do is put up a sign selling rides on that thing,” Sawyer said. “We could probably make a fortune this week.”
“Dad!” Frannie was outraged. “The idea was just to have the sleigh for the guests to ride for fun. And to use for weddings.”
“Fun has a price, doesn’t it?”
She rolled her eyes at her father. “It’s not all about the money, Dad. Jeez.”
Sawyer looked at me and shook his head. “My daughters are going to break me, Mack. If it’s not April with her heated wedding barn, it’s Chloe with her distillery, or Frannie giving everything away for free. And those are just the three that live here!”
I laughed. “Frannie’s got a soft heart. But I hear you—my daughters are going to break me as well. Probably with the swear jar.”
Frannie clucked her tongue and reached for Winifred’s hand. “Come on, Winnie. We don’t have to take this abuse.”
“Bye,” I called as they walked out hand in hand. “Thank you!”
Over her shoulder, Frannie stuck her tongue out at me. But then she winked, and my chest felt tight.
Sawyer came toward me and sat down in one of the chairs across from my desk, launching into his financial concerns about purchasing the new bottling lines and wondering what I thought about Chloe’s distillery idea, then complaining about how his wife was always nagging at him to slow down and consider retirement.
I heard him, but in all honesty my thoughts were on Frannie. Was she okay driving in this snow? Was the house clean enough that I wouldn’t be embarrassed? Had I left any piles of my underwear folded on the dining room table?
As the afternoon hours dragged by, the snow falling faster and heavier, I kept wondering what everyone was doing. Had the girls finished their homework? Had Millie practiced piano? Had Felicity conned her way into more iPad time? Around four thirty, I got a text from Frannie.
Making dinner and dessert.
A few seconds later, the message was followed by a series of pictures showing each of the girls in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back, grins on their faces, hands busy with kitchen tools. Apparently, I owned a mixer.
Then there was one photo showing something simmering in a big pot on the stove—was it chili? Just looking at it warmed my belly.
Wow. Is that really happening in my kitchen?
It is! And your girls are doing all the work. Almost. :)
I didn’t want to be at work anymore. I wanted to be home with them, hanging out in the kitchen and smelling that chili, drinking a beer and listening to my daughters laugh. We never had fun like that on school nights, which always felt to me like a list of things to tick off—homework, dinner, piano, reading, baths, bed. Piano on Tuesdays. Therapy