Mrs. Miracle Page 0,8

and he was killing himself in the process. Another week of this and he'd be a candidate for the loony bin.

Judd and Jason didn't need to be encouraged to take their places at the table. His children weren't fools. Dinner, especially one not cooked by their father, put them on their best behavior.

Once everyone was seated, Mrs. Merkle opened the oven door and brought out the hot, bubbling chicken pot pie. The crust was browned to perfection, and the tantalizing gravy leaked up through the sides. The scent all but made his knees go weak. Seth didn't need to be urged to place his napkin in his lap and grip hold of his fork in eager anticipation.

"Wow," Judd whispered, and looked to his dad. His tongue moistened his lips, and his eyes sparkled with eager anticipation.

Afterward Seth would have been hard-pressed to say when he'd enjoyed a meal more. He supposed he should be asking his new housekeeper for references, but he was too busy enjoying his dinner to take the time. She had a kind, honest face, but he'd been fooled before. Then again, she could well be the good-hearted, generous soul he'd requested from the beginning.

Frankly, he wasn't keen on the agency's placement tactics. They'd waited until he was at his wits' end before sending him a new housekeeper. Since he was paying top dollar, one would think they'd want to please him.

"This is good," Seth said, and helped himself to seconds.

"It's an old family recipe that I've updated."

Seth would have polished off a third slice of the succulent pie, but he was already stuffed. Placing his hands on his stomach, he excused himself and scooted back his chair.

"I'll help Mrs. Mirkl...Mrs. Meeraki...Mrs. Miracle," Jason burst forth triumphantly.

"I'll help, too," Judd insisted. Always before, his chauvinistic sons had insisted dishes were woman's work. Even when Seth was up to his armpits in suds, risking dishwater hands, they had refused to help. This attitude, Seth suspected, was the result of living with their grandparents for the last several years. Jerry Palmer's outdated views of what was and wasn't fitting work for the male population had unfortunately rubbed off on his grandsons.

"You can both help," Mrs. Merkle decided, pushing up her sleeves.

"When we're finished, will you read to us?"

One dinner after a week of his cooking was all it took to win over his children, Seth noticed.

"You read, too?" To hear Jason talk, the woman's talents were unlimited.

Seth had tried reading to his children before bed, but the only one he put to sleep was himself. He'd get warm and comfortable, and before he knew it, his eyes would start to droop and his head would nod. The next thing he knew, the twins would slip away silently and decide to help him by rewiring the house or turning the washer into a breadmaking machine.

"Will you be taking your coffee in the family room, Mr. Webster?" she asked.

"Yes, please." It wasn't until he was seated on the leather recliner that Seth wondered how it was his new housekeeper knew he routinely drank a cup of coffee with the evening newspaper following dinner. But then, it wasn't such an unusual habit. Seth suspected half the male population read the evening paper over a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

Mrs. Merkle carried a steaming mug in to him a few minutes later. "I imagine you have a number of questions you'd like me to answer," she said as she set the mug on the coaster. "If you don't mind, I'd like to wait until I've tidied up in the kitchen and gotten the children down for the night."

"Of course." She was right; he should have a long list of questions, important ones. Naturally he'd want to read her references. These were his children, his own flesh and blood, his very reason for living. He'd need to be sure he wasn't entrusting the twins to the care of a serial murderer.

Mrs. Merkle? Naw. A woman who could cook up a chicken pot pie that good was a gift from God. And who was he to question a miracle? Oh, he'd make a few basic inquiries, listen to her answers, but it would all be for show. The employment agency routinely screened their applicants. They would have already completed a background check and handled the necessary paperwork. Besides, any questions he might have about the suitability of a housekeeper concerned that old biddy Hampston. He never had cared for the woman, and it was all