Mrs. Miracle Page 0,82

make a go of our marriage, we can't be tossing the option of divorce in each other's faces again. It's too dangerous."

Sharon agreed. Bringing up the subject had been like opening a Pandora's box, creating more problems than it solved. Once she'd started thinking of leaving Jerry, her mind had justified her decision. Everything he said or did was further evidence that their love was dead.

"I love you, Jerry Palmer." The tears were back in her voice, only this time they were evidence of her happiness.

"I love you, Sharon Palmer. Forever."

Chapter 29

God gave the angels wings and humans chocolate.

- Mrs. Miracle

The twins were down, and Sharon and Jerry had headed for bed at a ridiculously early hour, and now Seth was left alone to deal with his thoughts. Try as he might, he couldn't forget the look of hurt and disillusionment on Reba's face when she'd walked out the door.

But what she'd asked of him was impossible. He hadn't touched a keyboard in four years. She seemed to believe he could pick up where he'd left off and play in public with less than twenty-four hours' notice. Talk about unrealistic. Talk about absurd. She wasn't even making sense.

He refused to think about it any longer. Having nothing better to do, Seth sat down in front of the television and reached for the remote control. He'd started to surf through the channels when Mrs. Merkle waltzed into the room with a feather duster.

"Don't pay me any mind, Mr. Webster," she said as she breezed past him. "With so much to do tomorrow, I want to finish up what housework I can this evening. I'll be out of your way before you know it."

Seth leaned his head against the cushion and waited patiently while she dusted off the top of the television. He noticed that she stood directly in front of the screen, blocking the view.

"Christmas Eve is almost upon us. My oh my, how the days fly by. I don't suppose you've noticed how excited the twins are to be a part of the church program. They're going to be the best little angels on God's green earth. It would be a terrible letdown to them if the pageant had to be canceled."

Seth frowned. He heard the censure in his housekeeper's voice but didn't know if it was real or imagined. He did notice that it seemed to be taking her an inordinate amount of time to dust.

"I feel so bad for Reba. I don't know how she'll ever find someone to play the piano at this late date." She turned and looked deliberately at him.

"Emily, stop."

She hesitated, the feather duster clenched in one hand. "Stop? You want me to stop dusting?"

"Yes." His wishes were simple and direct. He'd suffered enough recriminations without his housekeeper adding to his guilt. "I'll finish up myself later."

"As you wish."

She left, and Seth heaved a sigh of relief. He soon realized that he'd underestimated the woman the children called Mrs. Miracle. Before he could refocus his attention on the boob tube, Emily returned, this time with the vacuum cleaner in tow.

Without a pause she plugged it in and ran it across the carpet in front of him with the determination of a woman intent on wiping out the plague of household dust in her lifetime. It amazed him that the carpet remained glued to the floorboard.

"Emily!" he shouted.

She turned off the vacuum and cast him a look of pure innocence. "You wanted something, Mr. Webster?"

"How about some peace?" he said between clenched teeth.

"Peace," she repeated as though this were a foreign word she couldn't translate. "If you're looking for peace, then I suggest you search for it within yourself."

"Oh no," he said, wagging his index finger at her. "You aren't going to start in with those crazy sayings of yours, not to me. Don't try to tell me silence isn't always golden, that it's sometimes just plain yellow."

"Oh, excellent," she said, her entire face brightening, "but I never said that. Dear Abby did, or perhaps it was Ann Landers."

"You know what I mean," he challenged, in no mood to lock horns with the housekeeper.

Arms akimbo, Mrs. Merkle stood squarely in front of him. "She needs a piano player, and furthermore she needs you almost as much as you need her. Now, what are you going to do about it?"

He glared at the woman, wishing he had the courage to fire her on the spot. It was what she deserved for interfering in his