Boo Humbug by Rene Gutteridge

Author:Rene Gutteridge [Gutteridge, Rene]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-307-49927-1
Publisher: The Doubleday Religious Publishing Group
Published: 2007-11-18T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

It is always the person not in the predicament who knows what ought to have been done in it, and would unquestionably have done it too.

WOLFE SHRUGGED OFF his coat as he walked in the front door. Hanging it in the closet, he could hear sounds coming from the kitchen, and the smell beckoned him. Was it baked chicken? Mashed potatoes? He could hardly wait. He was starving.

“There’s my girl!” Wolfe said as he walked up to the bassinet that held Abigail. She watched a mobile go round and round, but upon seeing Wolfe, her mouth opened wide as she tried to smile. He took her hand, and she grasped one of his fingers with all her might. He gently ran his thumb across the soft skin of her arm. “I’ll be back. I’m going to go say hi to your mommy.”

Strolling into the kitchen, he found Ainsley at the stove, stirring something in a pan. He prayed it was gravy. He loved her gravy. Coming from behind, he reached out and wrapped his arms around her.

She screamed.

Then she stumbled backward and knocked her elbow against the handle of the pan. It tipped up and scooted off the stove, crashing to the floor just as they both jumped out of the way. Gravy splattered across the cabinets like an impressionist painting. Ainsley stood glaring at it, then him.

“Honey, are you okay?” Wolfe rushed to her. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me come in.”

She held the wooden spoon like she was about to use it. On him.

“Um … here, let me help you clean this up.” He rushed to the laundry room where he grabbed three rags. When he returned to the kitchen, Ainsley still hadn’t moved. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” She held out her arms as if on display. “The entire dinner is ruined now.”

“No, no, honey. It’s not ruined. It’s just the gravy. You make the best chicken. It’s always moist. There’s no need for gravy.” He stooped, started wiping, and looked up at her. “I’m really sorry.”

She took a rag and dabbed at her pants. Wolfe wasn’t sure, but she seemed disproportionately mad. Usually things like this made her just throw up her arms and laugh. He finished wiping the floor while Ainsley went over to check on Abigail. He put the rags in the laundry room and came out to find Ainsley back at the stove.

“Did you have a bad day?” he asked, rubbing her shoulders.

She stiffened and moved away from him. “Fine. Mind setting the table? Dishes are set out.”

“I don’t mind at all, but first I want to make sure you’re okay.”

The doorbell suddenly rang, and Wolfe could feel his stomach turn. He was early.

“Who is that?” Ainsley asked.

“Uh … Alfred.”

“Why is he here?”

“I kind of invited him to dinner.”

“What? Why would you do that?”

“Why would I do that? You’re always telling me to invite Alfred for dinner. He’s lonely, he doesn’t have any friends, et cetera.

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