The Triplets' Holiday Miracle
Author
Tanya Agler
Reads
18.7K
Chapters
19
CHAPTER ONE
IT WASN’T AS if Ben Irwin’s life depended on this meeting with Zelda Baker at the Smokehouse. The days of his air force military career when he had undertaken flying missions that put him at actual risk of injury or death were permanently over as of two months ago. Through the wool of his heavy navy peacoat, Ben rubbed his hip. That last crash had forced his honorable discharge. No longer was he Colonel Irwin with the respect of his fellow service members bolstering him. Now, he was just plain Ben, living in his hometown of Violet Ridge again.
A mere six weeks ago, he’d purchased a historic house two blocks from downtown, and not just any house either. He had loved the stately Victorian manor from the first time he’d seen it while walking to Gregson Hill after sharing roasted chestnuts with his mother, who’d since passed. At closing, Ben had been convinced he’d gotten a bargain when he paid for the house in full. With large airy rooms and lots of light, the building had more than enough room for him with its six bedrooms and five baths, almost too much for one person. But after living next door to the curmudgeonly, seventy-something-year-old Constance Mulligan for a little over a month, he understood why the former owners had given each other a high five once he signed the contract. They’d received a pittance of what the home was worth, but they no longer had to deal with Mrs. Mulligan.
Living next door to Constance might not be so bad if he had somewhere to go during the day, but his employment prospects had fizzled out.
Until now. The current mayor had just announced he was retiring next year. Becoming the next mayor would be the perfect fit for Ben and his skill set. This morning he’d arranged to have lunch with his former boss and mentor, Zelda, who had served as mayor two administrations ago. Without a doubt, she’d help him launch his campaign. With Ben’s military background as a negotiator and his family’s ties to the region, he’d finally found his best chance to give something back to the area that had provided so many opportunities for the Irwin family.
Shaking a few snowflakes off his coat sleeves, Ben approached the Smokehouse, his favorite burger place in town. It had been four years since he’d paid this restaurant a visit. That was way too long for one of their legendary meals. The austere interior had always been no-nonsense, a little like him. Instead of frou-frou frills, the owners concentrated on what they did well: burgers and French fries. He could always count on a good meal with no fanfare.
He entered the restaurant and blinked. Was he in the wrong place on this Friday afternoon? Nope. The smell of grilled meat and grease was exactly as he remembered. Everything else was different.
For one thing, a row of wire reindeer with clear twinkling lights occupied the back wall. Overhead, giant green balls, red bells and humongous cardboard-cutout peppermints swayed over each table, along with crimson lanterns glowing bright. Every booth and table was occupied, and laughter carried over Christmas music playing in the background. This was a far cry from the uncluttered white walls of the past.
Ben approached the attendant’s stand, covered with strands of brightly colored holiday lights. The attendant, wearing a Santa hat and holding a pen, greeted him.
“I’m meeting Zelda Baker,” he said.
The woman’s smile broadened. “You must be Ben. Right this way.” She grabbed a menu and a set of silverware wrapped with a red paper napkin covered with candy canes and led him to a booth with a window view.
Ben would have known his former boss anywhere. Two years after his mother had died, Ben had searched for a job away from the ranch, preferring to make his name on his own merits. He found one downtown as an intern to Mayor Baker, a position that had lasted until he entered the Air Force Academy. Many a summer morning, he headed into town before daybreak and arrived at City Hall as Zelda was unlocking the building. Every night, he stayed until she wrapped up for the day.
At least she hadn’t changed. Her kelly green hair was styled in a pixie cut and framed an elfin face that never seemed to age. Her hair matched her bright green velour sweat suit. She scooted out of the booth and gave him a warm hug, her head coming up to his chest since she was a foot shorter than his tall, rangy frame.
“Merry Christmas, Ben. Welcome home.”
He hung his coat on the post hook across from the one holding Zelda’s bright patchwork coat of every color imaginable. “Thank you.”
She slid back into the booth. “If I remember correctly, you ate here at least twice a week under its previous ownership. I take it you haven’t been here since you’ve come home? You look flabbergasted at the changes to the place.”
He unwrapped the utensils. “I’ve been busy.”
“Thank you for your service for our country.” Zelda patted his hand, her age spots more prominent now than when he’d worked with her. “It’s good to have you back. How’s life on the ranch? Are you and Lizzie getting along?”
“We agreed five weeks ago that my hip injury wasn’t conducive to long rides in the saddle. I saw Lizzie yesterday when she and Lucky hosted Thanksgiving.”
He was still reeling from how his family had grown over the past year. His younger sister, Lizzie, was expecting a baby with her husband, Lucky, a part-time instructor at Ben’s stepsister’s rodeo academy. His older brother was settled in Boston with his wife and two energetic children. His father had married a famous singer, whose daughter lived nearby with her husband and toddler. Everyone had gathered at the ranch for a joyful holiday.
For the most part, he had enjoyed himself. When he wasn’t staggering from the extensive changes to the ranch, that was. Somehow, after consuming all that delicious food prepared by the ranch’s cook yesterday, he was hungry again.
Ben picked up the three-page menu and studied the new offerings. Barbecue brisket sandwiches. Reubens. Chicken salad on a flaky croissant? What happened to sticking to what you did best? He placed the menu on the plastic tablecloth decorated with bright red poinsettias. Everything had changed while he was away serving his country. Why couldn’t things just stay the same?
At least the Smokehouse still served hamburgers. There was nothing like them anywhere else in the world, and he should know, having been stationed in over fourteen countries and sent on missions to a number of others. Nothing was as good as the first bite of a Smokehouse hamburger. He could almost taste the crinkle-cut French fries drizzled with ketchup.
Zelda set aside her menu and studied Ben. “The Double I is in good hands. Lizzie’s attracted new employees with the addition of the guesthouses. Keeping up with the times. She’s done well with introducing the Simmental cattle to the ranch, too.” Zelda had always known the details of every ranch and family in the surrounding township. “What’s next on the horizon for you?”
That was a good question.
After working for a week at the Double I Ranch, where he’d grown up, it became obvious his sister, Lizzie, ran an efficient enterprise. He’d quit the ranch, and then headed to the Irwin Arena, another of his father’s business ventures, only to find his father’s staff was a close-knit group who ran the operation smoothly. He cleared out his office in less than a week.
Before he had a chance to answer, the server came over, pencil and pad in hand. “Zelda! What a wonderful surprise! I didn’t notice you here.”
“I’m glad to see you back at work.” Zelda scooted out of the bench and embraced the server before settling back into the booth. “How’s your dad doing?”
The server grinned. “Much better. Your chicken noodle soup helped. So did the news that my sister is expecting a baby.”
“How wonderful.” Zelda clapped her hands. “I’ll start knitting baby booties this afternoon.”
The server wrote down their drink orders, but before Ben could get in another word, an older couple came over to talk to Zelda, followed by more patrons stopping by while he sat on his side of the booth, feeling left out. It seemed like everyone in the restaurant knew Zelda and/or her identical twin, Nelda, and either had a question for her or simply wanted to wish her a happy holiday. Somehow, in the midst of it all, they ordered their meals, but those were the only words he’d uttered since they arrived. Zelda was more popular than ever, and she listened to each resident about every little thing. Neighbor disputes. The recent senior center community bus breakdown. Advice about a Christmas present. To each, Zelda doled out sage words of wisdom.
Their meals came, and Ben stared at his plate, the standard white dishes swapped out with holiday ones. The hamburger was there, along with a fruit cup and homemade potato chips.
“This isn’t what I ordered.” Ben pushed his plate to the edge and motioned for the server. “I ordered fries.”
“They started serving homemade potato crisps. They’re delicious.” Zelda reached over and popped one in her mouth. “Try one.”
The server returned with a smile and asked if everything was okay.
Ben pointed to his plate. “I received someone’s fruit cup by mistake.”
The server laughed. “You must be new around here. That’s standard with every lunch order.”
“It’s been a while since Ben’s been home.” Zelda interjected and waved her hand. “He has to get back into the Violet Ridge groove.”
The server scurried away, and Ben turned his attention to his meal. He pushed the fruit cup aside and turned to Zelda. “Finally. People are leaving us alone, and we can talk.”
“This is a mighty fine meal. Eat up before it gets cold.” Zelda took a bite of her turkey and cranberry sandwich and smacked her lips. “For the record, I’ve been watching you this whole time. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
That was Zelda. She cared about everyone who set foot in Violet Ridge, taking each resident under her wing. Ben picked up his hamburger. “Lizzie’s efficient and running the ranch like a five-star general. Dad’s staff at the arena is a well-oiled machine. There’s no place for me at the ranch or at the arena, but I have another job in mind.”
“Let me guess.” Zelda chewed another bite of her sandwich and squinted. He didn’t squirm or flinch. Instead, he waited patiently during her assessment. She could read people and a room as well as any lieutenant general. “Stellar military career. Family connections out the wazoo. The ability to organize like no other. You want to run for mayor.”
“I’ve worked at City Hall before, and I can bring something to the position.”
“You should know right off I never endorse candidates. Still, even without my endorsement, you have a good chance to win with your military experience.” Zelda placed her sandwich on her plate and settled her elbows on the table, leaning forward. “I’ve been watching you as longtime residents came over. You didn’t introduce yourself, and you didn’t insert yourself into the conversations.”
Ben chewed on his hamburger, the long-anticipated treat suddenly feeling like cardboard in his mouth. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“People change. Towns change. You have to get to know us all over again.” Zelda’s eyes were kind even if her tone was brusque.
“Any suggestions?” Becoming mayor was more than just about winning an election; it was about giving back to the community that had been there for him when his civic-minded mother died. Cards. Meals. Pats on the back. That had meant so much to a gangly teenager who was closer to his mom than his workaholic father.
Zelda plucked out a plump raspberry from her fruit cup and popped it into her mouth. “Volunteering would be a way to give back to the community.”
She then outlined other ways for him to get back into the thick of the town’s activities. Once she started advising him, his hamburger regained its flavor. The quality of the meal hadn’t changed. It was just as good as he remembered.
“You sold me. So where am I needed the most?” Fortunately, he had time and money to commit to whatever volunteer position she recommended. Finding his purpose in Violet Ridge meant everything to him.
Zelda finished her lunch and pushed away her plate. “You going to eat those crisps?”
He piled half on her dish. They smelled good, but he liked the old fries. “Consider that payment for your assistance.”
They both chuckled. Zelda munched on a crisp, her face blissful. “These are my granddaughter Sofia’s favorite. She just turned seven.” She showed him pictures of Sofia on her cell phone. “There are days she’s going on seventeen. They grow up so fast.”
He wouldn’t know about children, having never been married. He’d come close a couple of times to asking a woman to marry him, but his career had kept him busy.
“She has your facial expressions,” he said, handing the phone back to her. “So, do you have any recommendations as far as volunteer positions?”
Zelda tapped her last crisp against her plate before popping it in her mouth. The crunch filled the air, and Ben couldn’t help it. He tried one. It was surprisingly good.
“The Snow Much Fun festival will be taking place soon.” She leaned back against the red pleather of the booth and winced. “Then again Monica and Kim are organizing that. They’re both go-getters who like being in charge. You don’t want to get in the middle of one of their heated discussions and ruin your chances of becoming mayor before you even run.”
“Then that’s out.” Ben finished the fruit cup and moved on to the crisps. To his surprise, he found himself wanting more. “Anyone else looking for someone like me?”
She snapped her fingers. “Frank Craddock called me yesterday. He’s in need of extra volunteers at the Holly Theater.”
Ben instantly recognized the name of the local community playhouse where the annual production of The Santa Who Forgot Christmas was the must-see event of the season. “Volunteers who don’t have to act, right?”
He still shuddered at the memory of his short time on the Holly Playhouse Theater stage. He’d been cast as Nicky, one of the two lead child roles. Stage fright didn’t even begin to describe the intense knot in his stomach and the sweat that dripped down his brow. His legs had been like lead weights as he stood there, silent and shaking. Nothing in his twenty years of serving in the military had matched that moment when every audience member stared at him, waiting for him to deliver his lines. The curtain had gone down, and his understudy filled in for him.
“They need crew members, too. You’d be busy from now until Christmas Eve when the play is performed,” Zelda said.
The server brought the bill, and Ben reached for it before Zelda could. He presented his credit card, and the server accepted it. Ben dismissed Zelda’s objection. “It’s my way of thanking you for your time.”
“How was the meal?” His mentor raised her eyebrow almost as if the question had a deeper meaning.
He looked down, every crumb and food speck gone. “It was delicious.”
“Change isn’t as bad as you think.” Zelda winked at him, then scooted out of the booth and donned her coat. “Even for someone who likes everything to stay the same. Good to have you back in town, Ben. Merry Christmas.”
Ben signed the bill and then walked the two blocks to the Holly Theater. Zelda’s advice had never steered him wrong. He nodded at a street vendor selling hot chocolate and peppermint mochas. Still full, he didn’t stop, but it might be nice to purchase something on his way home. Maybe he’d surprise Mrs. Mulligan and buy her a cup of hot cocoa. He had offered to install lights on her house as she was the only one who didn’t have any decorations, but she had glared at him and turned away, pivoting those boots on the snow and ice. Who knew why she was like that? Some around here speculated she was tight with her purse strings. Others said she was just getting by. Perhaps a gift would break the ice between them.
He resolved to remember to buy her something before stopping in front of a two-story whitewashed brick building. The marquee, announcing that The Santa Who Forgot Christmas was coming soon, jutted out over the entry doors and box office windows. His hip ached with an intensity not experienced since he finished his physical therapy. Perhaps that was a sign he should just return to the vendor and buy two hot cocoas. He’d leave one on Mrs. Mulligan’s front doorstep, ring the doorbell and run.
But Ben wasn’t seven anymore. If he wanted to be mayor, he couldn’t let the fear from that isolated incident of stage fright hold him back. Twenty years in the military had changed him. It instilled a sense of pride and confidence he hadn’t had when he was a kid. Any challenge inside the playhouse would be conquered with the stiff spine he’d perfected over the years. He looked down at his plain navy wool coat and jeans. He’d have felt a sight more confident in his dress blues, but those were now hanging in a closet, retired on a permanent basis, same as him.
No one told him how hard the first Christmas was away from the military. He missed the soldiers who served with him, and their families. Okay, he needed a position as a volunteer here more than he acknowledged to Zelda.
Corralling his nerves, he opened the door and found an empty lobby. He followed voices and entered the auditorium that could accommodate two hundred patrons. Plush red curtains surrounded the stage that was much smaller than he remembered.
The owner of the playhouse, Frank Craddock, approached him. In his fifties with a receding hairline and hair that was more silver than brown, Frank had changed over the years. “Ben Irwin! Merry Christmas!” He patted Ben on the back before clutching his clipboard to his chest. “Good to see you again, but the auditions were yesterday.”
He then met Ben’s gaze and they laughed, as it would be a good long time—preferably never—before Ben acted in another play. “I’m here to volunteer for a crew position. Zelda Baker suggested it.”
“I never turn down a pair of able hands.” Frank let out another boomer of a laugh. “Are you good with a paintbrush?”
Considering Ben repainted every room in his house, getting rid of the dark gray walls with a soothing creamy white, he nodded. “I’m pretty good with a blowtorch and miter saw, too.”
“Can’t pay you.” Frank raised his eyebrow.
“Wasn’t expecting anything.” Except to get to know the residents of Violet Ridge better.
“You’re hired. Why don’t you have a seat in the auditorium.” Frank gestured to the rows of empty seats. “I have one matter to handle and then I’ll get you some waiver forms to sign.”
Frank hustled away, and Ben looked around. This theater wasn’t the bustling hive of activity he anticipated. That didn’t matter. He’d made himself available, and so volunteering here was now a part of his holiday season.
Ben approached a row and went to lower himself into one of the cushioned seats when a young boy, most likely six or seven, jumped out at him.
“Boo!”
Ben almost stumbled before righting himself. “Wrong season, don’t you think?”
“You’re funny.” The boy laughed and hunkered back down. “Shh. Don’t tell anyone where I am. I’m trying to frighten my sisters.”
“No deal.” A boy this age shouldn’t be left unsupervised in a theater. “I’ll take you back where you belong.”
The boy remained crouched on the floor. “I want to stay here. We can hide together.” The boy gave one more half-hearted protest before taking in Ben’s resolute expression. He sighed with acceptance and rose off the floor. “I wouldn’t have told anyone.”
Ben gave the boy credit despite his flawed logic. After all, if you were hiding, you weren’t talking. He smiled and reached out his hand. “Come along. Someone’s probably worried about you.”
The boy’s shoulders slumped, but Ben was determined to find the lad’s caregiver. A quick glance at the lobby proved fruitless. Then Ben headed backstage while the boy trudged alongside him. He heard voices from behind the door where Frank had disappeared earlier.
Barging in, Ben found himself at the back of a crowd. Frank was congratulating everyone on being cast in this year’s production of The Santa Who Forgot Christmas before launching into the rehearsal schedule.
Ben sought out anyone who seemed to be missing something valuable in terms of one little boy. His gaze settled on a woman with curly, light brown hair that fell past her shoulders. Long swirly silver earrings dangled on either side of her swanlike neck. He admired her pretty yellow sweater paired with a swirly skirt that extended to her ankles. Slim and of average height, she held on to the hands of two little girls who appeared to be about the same age as the boy beside him.
Applause pulled his attention away from the woman. Cast members milled about the room, trading phone numbers and asking about yesterday’s Thanksgiving. No one came forth to claim the boy, and Ben started to worry until the woman released the hands of the two girls and rushed over to them.
“Aspen! I thought you were behind me.” The woman placed her hand over her heart. “Don’t run off like that.”
That was her entire lecture? No admonishment for escaping her notice. What if he’d left the theater? Without a coat? And with residents distracted during the rush of the holiday season? Aspen could have been hurt. Or lost. Or freezing. Or worse. Any of those alternatives were painful, as Ben could attest to, having experienced all those things and more during his time in the military. He cleared his throat. “I found him in the auditorium, playing hide-and-seek.”
“All’s well that ends well.” She smiled and reached for Aspen’s hand.
“Something bad could have happened,” Ben warned with a voice that usually sent fear through anyone in his midst.
“Nothing did, though. Good is all around, if you look for it.” Those brown eyes almost seemed to twinkle. “Thank you.”
She moved past him. Her dismissal of him rankled, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. With his lips pursed in a straight line, he simply nodded and walked to the other side of the room to await further instructions from Frank.
If she was part of this production, he was wrong about one thing. There was something in this theater that could cause his stomach to twist into a knot even tighter than when he experienced stage fright. Actually, it was a someone.
And he didn’t even know her name.
DAISY STANLEY WAITED for Frank Craddock to finish talking to the actor who was set to play Santa in this year’s production of The Santa Who Forgot Christmas. She had to admit Teddy Krengle was perfect for the role with his rosy red cheeks and rounded white beard. Even his name sounded similar to Kris Kringle.
In the meantime, she scanned the room until she set her gaze on the man who’d returned Aspen to her a few minutes earlier. Tall with a commanding air, he glared at her as if she was a menace on the same level as the Bumble from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
What had he expected her to do? Scold her seven-year-old son in front of his sisters and everyone else? That wasn’t her style. And by the time they arrived home later, Aspen would have forgotten about this infraction and probably would have done something else worthy of a scolding, anyway.
As a single mom of triplets, she waged her battles carefully. One victory a day was all she expected and wanted.
Daisy kept an eye on her children while clutching the waiver and schedule Frank had handed out at the start of the meeting. There was some mistake. She intended to rectify the issue before the first rehearsal started.
However, Teddy and Frank were chatting up a storm. Beside her, Rosie and Lily started bickering over Lily’s doll, Winter, a cowgirl wearing blue jeans and two long yellow braids. If Daisy didn’t do something, their behavior would get them kicked out of the production before it even started.
While that sounded like it might be for the best, considering they’d be giving up most of their holiday season for rehearsals, Rosie had set her heart on auditioning and was ecstatic over being cast as Noelle. As the natural leader of the triplets, whenever Rosie wanted something that badly, the other two went along with her.
Still, she had to straighten out this misunderstanding with Frank Craddock. It would be a sight easier to do if someone else was watching the triplets. Since the newcomer was the only other person not speaking to someone else, that narrowed her options to him. He’d have to do. She was sure that if he ever smiled, he would be quite handsome with that head of dark brown hair and those piercing green eyes.
Daisy gripped her daughters’ hands and motioned at Aspen to come with her. Then she forced her brightest smile on her face and approached the man with determination. “Excuse me. We haven’t been formally introduced, but you and Aspen are already fast friends. Would you watch my triplets for a minute while I get everything straightened out with Mr. Craddock?”
The man seemed ready to say no when she spotted the other two gentlemen going their separate ways. Frank was heading toward the auditorium, but she couldn’t let him leave yet. Daisy sent a quick thanks the man’s way and rushed toward the theater owner.
“Mr. Craddock. Frank! There’s been a mistake.” Daisy thrust the papers at him. “The volunteer at the audition said there’d be no outside people present at the rehearsals.”
“That’s correct.” Frank glanced toward the man who was being roped into a round of “Ring around the Rosie” with the triplets. “If you’re talking about Ben, he’s a new volunteer.”
Good. He could take her spot, then. The owner started walking again, and Daisy followed. “I was talking about me. I’d be an outside person.”
“No, you’re not. Your children are acting in the play. Every parent of a minor actor has to volunteer.” Mr. Craddock gave a curt nod.
Was it really volunteering if it was mandatory? Daisy wasn’t quite sure about that, and she needed the time from the rehearsals to get back to silversmithing. More than just her creative outlet, her jewelry business would supplement her income from her job at her family’s dude ranch. With her babysitter heading to college next fall after a gap year so she could earn money for tuition, the extra income was essential to pay for childcare and necessities for three growing children.
“How often do I have to be here?” she asked.
“Whenever one of your children is rehearsing. You’ll love it.” Mr. Craddock opened the door and sailed into the auditorium.
She glanced at the rehearsal schedule, and her eyes almost popped out. With Rosie and Aspen having the two lead juvenile roles, she should just set up a tent in the lobby. Their presence was required almost every evening and Saturdays. They’d spend more time here than they would at home until Christmas Eve.
Exhaling, she faced the man keeping watch over the triplets. “We all fall down!” Rosie announced with glee.
Rosie, Lily and Aspen tumbled to the floor, laughing, while the man rolled his eyes and then joined them. At least she left them in the hands of a good sport.
Daisy hurried over and thanked him. “You’re a lifesaver. I’m Daisy Stanley.”
“Are all of these yours?” he asked.
She was taken aback at his abrasive tone. “I don’t rent them, if that’s what you’re asking.”
The trio giggled and popped up off the floor, surrounding her with hugs from every side. Looking disheveled and out of sorts, the man remained on the ground, rubbing his hip. Just because she was used to the triplets’ antics didn’t mean he was. She reached out her arm. “Need some help?”
“I’m more than capable of rising on my own merits,” he said.
He was prickly to say the least. Too bad. That dark hair had a slight wave to it, and his face held a touch of earnestness. Those good looks could use a dose of manners, though.
“Everyone can use a hand sometimes. Life’s the sweeter for it.” She kept her hand outstretched, used to being met with attitude by her three older brothers.
Her youngest, Lily, tugged the bottom of her yellow cardigan. “Mommy, I thought only cookies and desserts are sweet. How can life be sweet?”
“It’s an expression, like that Christmas song you like. The world isn’t made of marshmallows, but it’s sweet and gooey. Like you, Lilypad.” Daisy tweaked Lily’s nose. “A marshmallow world means we can look forward to Christmas the whole year round.”
“Okay.” Lily smiled at her, looking so much like her late father with those big hazel eyes and curly blond hair. She and Rosie were technically identical, although Lily’s eyes were slightly closer together, making it easy to tell them apart. Their brother resembled her side of the family with brown hair and dark eyes.
Daisy returned her attention to the man on the floor. He was still rubbing his hip. “Are you hurt? Do you need me to get someone?”
He clenched his jaw and finally accepted her hand. On his feet again, he released her and wiped off his jeans. “Are they always this rambunctious?”
She laughed that away with a shrug. “If you’re asking whether they’re creative and energetic and happy, the answer is yes. If you’ll excuse us...”
The man stared at her as if she was an elf, newly arrived from the North Pole. Thankfully, she’d only have to endure him until the play was over and they went their separate ways.
Until then, she wouldn’t let this person ruin her holiday spirit, although the prospect of having to volunteer here every night and weekend was putting a small dent in her resolve. With a month until Christmas, she was trying her hardest to make this the best one yet for the triplets. They’d changed so much this year, and this was the first holiday without the spirit of grief hanging over them as it had for the past twenty-four months. Aspen was finally acting like his former self, and Lily’s speech was coming along. She wouldn’t allow anything to set them back.
They’d come so far, changing for the better. Change was a necessary part of life.
Holding her head high, she grasped Aspen’s hand while the papers fell onto the floor. Daisy retrieved them, her exit with her daughters trailing behind her less than graceful. But her dignity was intact, and she’d take that as her victory of the day.
