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“Like what?”
“Well, the witch thing for a start. Why is she saying these things? Usually, she’s cautious with strangers.”
“Yes, that’s true.” He glanced at her. “Maybe it’s because Mabel reminds her of Tripalot?”
“I wish she’d stop pointing that out. It’s mortifying.”
“But understandable.” Matt grinned at her. “Mabel does look a little like Tripalot.”
“Matt—”
He shrugged. “It’s uncanny.”
“You mustn’t say that.” But she couldn’t help smiling, too, because Mabel did look a lot like Tripalot. “I have this feeling that I’ve met her before. It’s ridiculous.”
“You have met her before—she’s Tripalot.”
“Stop it, Matt!”
“I’m only saying it to you. And I have read those books almost every night for the past eight years, so I think I know what I’m talking about. I can recite them. I can reproduce the drawings in my sleep. Don’t you think she looks like Tripalot?”
Brooke smoothed the bed she’d rumpled by sitting on it. “That’s not the point. Saying so isn’t polite.”
“It’s a compliment. Elsie loves Tripalot. And so do we. Reading those stories has made her more confident.”
“I know all that. I know it’s a compliment. But Mabel doesn’t know that.” She sighed. “Parenting is complicated, isn’t it? We’ve raised the girls to tell the truth, but now we have to find a way to explain that there are times when it’s necessary to be silent.”
“Let’s hope Mabel has a sense of humour.” Matt paused, thinking. “Of course, there’s another possible reason that Elsie is so comfortable with her.”
“Which is?”
“She believes Mabel actually is Tripalot.”
“You mean a real witch? That’s ridiculous. Surely, she couldn’t possibly …” Her voice trailed off. Elsie had a very active imagination. It was one of the reasons she was more anxious than the average child. “She couldn’t think that, could she?”
He shrugged. “It would explain why she’s so comfortable with her.”
“No. That can’t be it.”
“Why not? We’re expecting her to believe in Santa.”
“That’s different?”
“Not really.” Matt checked on Poppy, who was still sleeping. “If Mabel is Tripalot, we’d better hope she doesn’t turn Elsie into a frog.”
Brooke gave a hysterical laugh. “We’re going to talk about this in years to come, aren’t we? We’ll tell stories about our worst Christmas ever.”
“Maybe. Or maybe,” Matt said slowly, “this will turn out to be our best Christmas ever.”
Brooke appreciated his attempts to be positive, but really? Best Christmas ever? How was that even possible? They had no tree, no extended family, no access to any of the traditions that were such an important part of Christmas (she was going to miss the Christmas lights walk around her hometown). All they had was whatever they could salvage from the car, and each other.
How was this going to turn out to be anything other than a festive disaster?
13
Mabel
Mabel stared at the contents of her cupboards. Fortunately, Walter had always insisted on being prepared for anything and everything, and even after he’d died she hadn’t seen a reason to change that. As a result, her cupboards, fridge and freezer were well-stocked.
