Indeed, the five-year-old looked around, then poked out her lip. “A ribbon is all I get?”
“What about me? Do I get a dress?” This from Claire.
“Honey, I told all of you, I couldn’t make dresses this year, not with losing the shop.”
“But Sally Holcomb will have the prettiest dress at school now, and we always have prettier dresses than Sally.” Claire poked out her bottom lip to match Megan’s.
“That’s enough, girls.” Thomas’s voice cut through the room. “God saved you from a fire. You should be thankful to have your lives, not be grumbling about dresses.”
Claire turned to her father. “But you don’t understand, Sally?—”
“Plus He gave you your father.” Jessalyn glanced at Thomas. “Don’t you enjoy having him back?”
Megan looked at Thomas, then nodded and popped her thumb in her mouth, her ribbon clutched tightly to her chest.
“Thanks for the toboggan, Pa.” Olivia’s words slurred with pain, but her gaze fell to the tall sled standing against the wall in the corner. “Can’t wait to use it.”
Thomas’s eyes followed Olivia’s to the sled. “I was hoping we’d be able to go sledding today. I’m sorry you’re so sick.”
Olivia sighed. “I’ll get better eventually.”
“I have another package for you, Thomas.” Jessalyn set the mug of tea on the floor beside the couch, then crossed the room and handed the paper-covered gift to him.
“More than just stockings, eh?” He winked at her again, and another flush traveled down her body.
She twisted her hands together as he unwrapped the package, then held the shirt out in front of him. Would he like it? It wasn’t especially fancy. She’d just used the mackinaw fabric from the mercantile to make it.
“You gave me big buttons.” He traced his finger over one of the unusually large buttons, then smiled. “Thank you, though I wasn’t exactly complaining about my other method of getting my shirts buttoned.”
Now her fingertips seemed to burn. Though he had a point, since she wouldn’t exactly complain about standing close enough to Thomas that his warmth seeped into her while she helped him with his buttons.
“How come you can make Pa a shirt but you can’t make me a dress?” Claire’s jaw trembled with an angry frown.
“I don’t know.” Jessalyn crossed her arms. “Maybe because your pa is grateful for what I give him?”
“Did you make this by hand?” Thomas examined the stitching.
“Lindy Harrington has a sewing machine. I used that a couple afternoons while the girls were in school, but I did the rest by hand, yes.”
“It’s not fair.” Claire pushed herself up and stomped her foot on the ground. “If pa can have a shirt, then I should have a dress.”
Jessalyn blew out a breath. Did their middle daughter always have to be so pushy? Couldn’t she at least take a break on Christmas, of all days?
“Not fair, is it?” Thomas stood, his knees popping with the movement. “I agree with your mother. If you can’t be grateful for your ribbon, then you don’t need to come downstairs and see what I got your ma.”
“You got me something more?” Jessalyn couldn’t quite keep the curiosity from blooming inside her.
“Of course.”
“Really, Thomas.” She cleared her throat and forced calmness into her voice. “The reticule was enough.” Especially since she’d lost her last one in the fire and had been keeping her money in her pockets ever since.
Thomas merely sent her another wink. “Come on, Megan, put your coat on. Do you want to see it?”
“I want to come too.” Claire scampered to the peg with her coat and stuck her bottom lip out at her father. “Please.”
“Will you stop complaining about your presents and be respectful to your mother?”
She nodded, her eyes wide.
