The Fireman's Christmas. Meg Lacey
his hand from flashing her a mock salute. Suddenly he wasn’t sure he wanted to subject his kids to this rigid, humorless woman. The problem was, he didn’t have much choice. Maybe he could suggest that she lighten up a bit. He reached down to peel Emma from his leg. “Okay, punkin, the ride’s over.”
Emma started to resist, but Danny headed her off. “Why don’t you find one of Mommy’s cups and we’ll give Miss Peach a cup of Daddy’s special coffee.”
Emma brightened. “The purple flower cups?”
“That’s right.” Danny patted her bottom. “Now scoot.”
Emma giggled and scampered through an arched entrance into the adjacent dining room. Danny smiled at Miss Peach and gestured toward an antique oak sideboard. “I keep a pot on all the time when I’m home. Firehouse habit, I guess.”
“I don’t drink coffee,” Miss Peach announced with an imperious shake of her head. “Caffeine, you know.”
“Yes, I know. Uh, isn’t that the point?” Danny’s frown was perplexed, but at her stern stare he added, “Can I offer you something else?”
“Fruit juice, if you have any.”
“Sure thing.” Danny prayed his refrigerator held something besides Kool-Aid. He went quickly to the kitchen, returning with a plastic pitcher in one hand and his own coffee mug in the other. “I have cherry Kool-Aid—will that do?”
“You have no juice? Juice is good for children, Mr. Santori.”
“The kids like this better, I think. It’s got lots of vitamin C and stuff.”
“Huuummph,” was her reply.
He started to speak but stopped short, following Miss Peach’s rapier gaze as it circled the room, cutting across every surface—or at least what surface could be seen beneath the clutter. He grimaced at the sight of mail and other papers littering the coffee table, at the pile of gym shoes tossed haphazardly into one corner, and at the packs of crackers stuffed around the antique silver service that decorated an old tea trolley. He remembered how delighted Laurie had been to find that, and wondered how long since it had been polished.
“Sorry the place is such a mess.” Danny shrugged sheepishly. He pushed aside a stack of magazines in order to set the pitcher and his mug on the coffee table. “The last babysitter quit rather unexpectedly last week. I called the agency right away, but I had to work last night….”
“What is that?” Miss Peach pointed to the wall between the kitchen and dining room.
Danny followed her gaze. “It’s a dumbwaiter. One of those elevator things that comes up from the old cellar where the summer kitchen used to be. These old houses—”
“I know what a dumbwaiter is,” Miss Peach replied. “I’m talking about that.”
He squinted at the crack where the dumbwaiter’s wood-paneled door met the frame. Was that a towel wedged in the opening? Despite his constant warnings, the boys must have been playing in the thing again. He’d started over to investigate when Emma’s chirping voice claimed his attention.
“I found it, Daddy.” She emerged from the dining room, cradling a cup and saucer protectively in her chubby arms as if they were more precious than gold. “I won’t drop it, will I?”
“Of course you won’t, punkin.” Danny resisted the urge to snatch up the delicate china, waiting instead until Emma proudly placed it in his hands. “Good girl.”
It seemed a sacrilege to fill the hand-painted porcelain with cherry Kool-Aid, but Danny didn’t care to question Miss Peach’s preference again. He handed her the cup and saucer, then picked up his own coffee mug. “When we’re done here, I’ll call in the rest of my crew. I’m sure you’ll find them a well-behav—”
“AIIIEEEE!” A piercing screech filled the air, followed by the machine-gun-like rat-a-tat-tat of the dumbwaiter door as it slid upward.
Miss Peach jumped to her feet, her arms flying up, cherry Kool-Aid splashing all over the front of her starched white blouse. She managed to hold on to the cup in one hand and the saucer in the other as she stared at the opening in the wall.
From the dumbwaiter’s depths two black heads emerged, then two perfectly matched, leering faces. “Earthlings! Surrender. Or we’ll slice you open and turn your guts to goo!”
Danny stood frozen for a moment, unsure whether to laugh at the ridiculous sight his twin sons made, kill them or rescue Laurie’s china from Miss Peach’s death grip. He took a step toward the sputtering woman, then looked over his shoulder at Emma crouched behind a chair with her mouth gaping. “Emma, get some cold water.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
Danny grabbed a towel from a chair and reached for Miss Peach, intending to blot the spreading stain from her formidable bosom. She batted his hand away, dropping the cup and saucer onto the rug, where they landed with a muffled thunk. Her hands now free, she used one to pluck her soaked blouse from her chest and the other to point at the open dumbwaiter. “What on earth…?”
“Come out of there, you two!” Relieved to have something else to do, Danny tossed the towel onto Miss Peach’s shoulder, then reached inside the gaping hole and hauled out a pair of identical squirming, mirthful boys, dressed in shorts and T-shirts with aluminum wrapped around their chests to resemble armor. Their older sister’s makeup was streaked all over their faces. Tufts of dark hair of varying lengths stuck out at odd angles from their heads, with pink scalp showing through here and there. They must have decided to cut their hair to resemble the alien space warriors they’d seen on an old video the night before.
Danny propped his twin sons against the wall. “Don’t move, or the only gooey guts will be yours,” he promised.
He turned back to his soaked guest. “I’m truly sorry, Miss Peach. You’ve probably guessed by now that these are my sons, Kyle and Kevin. They aren’t usually so—”
“Daaaaddy!”
Emma’s warning cry from the vicinity of the kitchen door erupted just a split second before a resounding “Woof!” filled the air. Their huge yellow Labrador retriever skated into the room, paws skidding on the hardwood floor, pushing the Oriental rug up like an accordion. Emma made a valiant attempt to hold the dog’s exuberant tail. “Out, General! Sit!”
Neither command was obeyed as the dog leaped toward the two boys. Miss Peach took a step backward, but her sensible low heel caught on a fold of the carpet. Danny grabbed for her, his fingertips just missing her elbow. She flung her arms wide again before falling back into the chair.
“Oh, God,” Danny groaned. “Are you all right?”
“Here’s the water, Daddy.” Emma, holding a sponge at arm’s length, raced into the melee and slapped the dripping sponge against Miss Peach’s chest. The poor woman let out a strangled cry.
With her eyes bigger than saucers, Emma put one finger in her mouth and backed away. The boys collapsed into a heap, laughing hysterically.
Danny groaned again.
As if pulled up by strings like a marionette, Miss Peach jerked to her feet. She swatted at the dog sniffing the hem of her skirt, snatched the sponge up and flung it to the table, then pointed at Emma. “That was ice-cold, young lady.”
Emma burst into tears, which drew her warrior brothers to the rescue.
“Hey,” Kyle yelled, his hair sticking out in all directions like a molting rooster. “You can’t talk to our sister that way!”
“You better leave us alone!” Kevin added furiously.
General barked an emphatic command before Danny finally gathered his wits enough to respond. “Quiet!” he roared. “Will everyone just…be…quiet!”
The noise level dropped as he turned back to Miss Peach. The woman