Take Me Home for Christmas

web. I’m trying to do something kind for another human being.”

“The same human being who broke your heart when she chose that bum over you?”

“Thanks for the reminder. But have you forgotten how hard it was when Dad left us?” he asked. “And you had child support, an education and a good job. What does she have?”

“The uncanny ability to prey on your sympathies, apparently.”

His mother wasn’t softening at all. She didn’t forgive easily as a general rule. She was too demanding of herself and others. Expecting her to forgive someone who’d wronged him? Forget it. They could fight between themselves, butt heads all the time, but she’d die defending him. That was what made their relationship so damn complicated. It was difficult to tell someone that devoted to quit meddling when the line between “meddling” and “loving” so often blurred.

“She didn’t come to me for the job, Mom. I offered it.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No.”

“Then you deserve exactly what you’re going to get!” A dial tone buzzed in his ear.

Ted couldn’t remember the last time his mother had hung up on him. She was really upset about this. But she had no right to be. He was an adult, for crying out loud. He could make his own decisions.

Slumping into his chair, he set the perpetual motion skier his editor had sent him for Christmas into action. He needed to get back to work. He couldn’t lose another day, not if he wanted to meet his deadline. But he was so distracted....

He stopped the skier as a new thought occurred to him. Was there any chance he could foist Sophia off on someone else, someone in Sacramento or the Bay Area?

That might be possible...if she had any marketable job skills.

He was still searching for a way out when a pleasant aroma began to waft into the room. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, trying to decide what Sophia was baking. Cookies? A cake? Muffins?

He didn’t have to wonder long. A few seconds later, he heard a bump against his office door and swiveled around to see her standing on the other side, holding a plate and a glass of milk. She must’ve used her knee to hit the door because she didn’t have a free hand.

When he drew close enough to see what was on the plate, he realized she’d brought him some banana bread. It was an eternity since he’d had anything like that. He took his mother to Just Like Mom’s almost every Sunday, and the meals he got there were always good. But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had banana bread, let alone smelled it baking.

He doubted Sophia could’ve brought him anything he’d find more appealing...at least not in the realm of food.

“I don’t want to interrupt,” she said. “I just thought you might enjoy a midmorning pick-me-up since you didn’t have much for breakfast.”

Her tentative smile and the way she hung back to ascertain his response reminded him of an animal that was eager for affection but feared it would be kicked instead. She’d never had that haunted look in her eyes when he’d been part of her life. He’d sensed the change in her at the church, too, during that meeting with Skip’s investors. She no longer knew what she could count on, what kind of response she’d get—from anyone.

“Smells good,” he said.

That was the positive sign she’d been waiting for. Her smile relaxed as he held the door so she could come in, and she put his lunch on the desk where he’d told her she should leave it.

“It’ll be here whenever you’re ready. I’ll get the plate later.”

She scooted out of the room so fast he didn’t have a chance to say anything except thanks before she closed the door. But once she was gone he wasted no time in trying what she’d made.

The sweet bread, slathered in butter, nearly melted in his mouth. He groaned as he downed both slices and wished she’d brought him the whole loaf.

His cell phone buzzed as he swallowed the last bite. It was a text message—from Eve.

How’s she doing?

Better, he wrote back and went down to the kitchen for more.

* * *

By the time Sophia finished cleaning two of Ted’s four bathrooms, she was tired even though it wasn’t quite noon. It’d been a while since she’d engaged in such strenuous activity. She’d never scoured a sunken bath—especially as large as the one he had off his bedroom. Her showers and baths were big and fancy, too, in a more elegant way, but Marta had handled keeping them clean.

At least she liked being busy. Maybe with some real effort and elbow grease, she’d be able to prove herself. This afternoon she’d take a few minutes and borrow that laptop he had on the desk in his office so she could search the internet for tips on how to keep a house clean and organized. She could even look up various recipes for healthy meals.

Determined to give her new position everything she had, to convince Ted he was wrong about her abilities, she returned to the kitchen. It was time to start lunch. After that, she’d clean the laundry room and do the laundry. From what she’d seen in Ted’s bedroom, he didn’t have a lot of dirty clothes, but some of his slacks and shirts would need ironing. And there was a far better way to organize his closet. She’d learned that from the specialist who’d come to organize hers.

She hoped he wouldn’t mind if she changed things around.... He’d given her so little direction. She was supposed to cook and clean, but he hadn’t told her specifically what he’d like cooked or what he’d like cleaned. She figured she’d just do the best she could, and if he disapproved of something, he’d have to let her know.

She rolled her eyes as she recalled his obvious disappointment at her typing skills. He certainly had no trouble being direct.

Grabbing a cookbook from a shelf near the pantry, she carried it to the kitchen table and sat down to pore through the recipes. She almost didn’t notice that the loaf of banana bread was nearly gone, but when the small chunk that was left caught her eye, she couldn’t help feeling vindicated. He’d liked it. He hadn’t said anything to her, but the proof was right there. He’d eaten enough for five people.

Maybe she’d be that lucky with his lunch....

The picture of an almond-and-berry salad with poppy-seed dressing caught her eye as she turned the pages. That looked healthy and delicious, which were the two stipulations he’d given her so far. She’d make the salad for lunch. For dinner she’d do a savory soup. It was growing so chilly in the evenings that a warm bowl of broccoli-cheddar served with sourdough bread might be perfect. Again, it was healthy, so she should be on track there. She just hoped he liked broccoli....

She considered asking him. She had to interrupt him anyway, to see if she could go to the grocery store for ingredients. But before she could make it out of the kitchen, the doorbell rang.

Figuring it was her job to answer—the whole point of having a housekeeper was to allow Ted more time to write—she hurried up the stairs and nearly bumped into him on the landing.

“Oh, did you want to get it?” she asked.

He lifted his hands. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“So greeting any visitors while you’re working would be my job?”

“That’s right.”

“Understood.” She reached for the handle. “Are you expecting anyone?”

“No. Like I said, I don’t get many visitors during the day.” His tone confirmed that he had no idea who it might be.

She opened the door to find the answer to that question: Chief Stacy was standing on the front stoop.

Recalling their exchange last night, and how unpleasant that had been, Sophia stood rigidly as he looked her up and down.

“So it’s true,” he said.

She felt her pulse kick into a higher gear. “What’s true?”

“Ted hired you.” He shook his head. “Some people never learn.”

Ted, hidden by the door, pulled it from her grasp and, nudging her off to one side, replaced her in the