Mrs. MacLeod snorted. “Ye don’t need to test for moisture retention in a biscuit. Ye need to test whether it tastes good.”
“That was test one,” Hyz said solemnly.
Erin bit back a smile. “And the result?”
“Acceptable,” Hyz decreed.
Matilda bounced. “Can we make more? Proper ones? For Santa!”
“And us,” Frank said. “Mostly us.”
Erin looked at Alex.
Alex looked at Erin.
For the first time all day, it felt possible. A quiet hour. A warm kitchen. No meltdowns. No frantic schedules. Just them and their children and a bowl of flour.
Their beautiful children. Florence who looked so much like Alex with her beautiful blonde hair, delicate face and big blue eyes. Frank and Matilda with the same blonde hair and serious dark brown eyes. Frank and Matilda always looked like twins, very similar looking, both taller and bigger stature than little Florence. Erin was so very proud of them all.
“Let’s do it,” Alex said softly.
Erin’s chest warmed.
The dogs seemed to approve as well — Juno barked and danced in circles while Bran thumped his tail against the cupboards like a timpani drum.
Alex rolled her sleeves up. Erin followed suit.
The children climbed onto stools. Hyz took her position of authority by the recipe book. Mrs. MacLeod stood aside, arms crossed but eyes soft, like a queen guarding her territory but accepting the invasion.
Erin inhaled deeply.
It was simple, domestic, sweet. And her heart felt too big for her chest.
“Hands washed?” she asked.
A collective groan echoed through the kitchen.
“Wejustwashed them,” Matilda whined.
“Wash them again,” Erin said. “Santa has hygiene standards.”
Frank frowned, his dark eyes serious. “Does he?”
“Absolutely,” Alex said gravely. “He once fined me for leaving fingerprints on a biscuit.”
The kids gasped in absolute, horrified fascination.
Erin smiled at Alexandra over their heads.
Alex winked.
Jesus. Erin’s stomach flipped. She was so beautiful. Alexandra, the love of her life.
The kids scrubbed up (badly) and hurried back to the table.
Erin opened the bag of flour. “Okay — who remembers how to mix dry ingredients?”
Matilda raised her hand instantly. Frank raised his just because Matilda had. Hyz raised hers with the solemnity of a judge.
