A Mommy for Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page A

think of things he’d put out of his mind a lifetime ago.
    â€˜I should drink it fairly fast, it’s getting cold,’ he said hastily, and dropped into the other corner of the sofa, wincing as he hit the unprotected springs. ‘Sweetheart, can we please have the cushions back for a bit?’ he asked Freya, and she nodded absently, her attention drawn by the television.
    He sorted them out before she changed her mind, and Kate settled back into the cushions and smiled at him. ‘This is a lovely house.’
    He gave a stunned laugh. ‘Well, it probably will be, but it’s a bit of a project. I wanted something we could make ours and, let’s face it, there’s plenty of potential here. Not much else, though.’
    â€˜Oh, it’ll be beautiful. It’s got fabulous high ceilings. I love Edwardian houses.’
    â€˜I’ve never had one before. I’m beginning to think it might have been a mistake.’
    â€˜Really?’
    He laughed. ‘No, not really. I’m sure it’ll be lovely eventually.’
    She tipped her head on one side and regarded him thoughtfully. ‘It must be a bit of handful having two very young children and a new job and trying to do the house up all at once,’ she said softly.
    And he thought, She doesn’t know the half of it, and I’m damned if I’m telling her.
    â€˜It’s OK,’ he said, reluctant to suggest for a moment that it was anything other than plain sailing. She didn’t need to know the number of times this last week he’d come that close to throwing in the towel. Except, of course, he couldn’t afford to. Eighteen months out of work had left him sailing pretty close to the wind. His investments had buffered them, and he was careful, but the house was going to take a substantial sum to fix it up and, besides, it was time to get their lives back on track.
    And if they were really lucky, they’d all survive the experience…
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    He hadn’t said ‘we’.
    Not once, unless he’d been referring to the children as well. ‘I bought the house—when I get it straight—if I ever get round to it. I’ve been lazy.’
    As if there wasn’t a Mrs McEwan.
    There was certainly no evidence of a woman’s touch in the rundown and desperately outdated house, although the furniture obviously came from better times and there was no lack of homeliness or warmth. And the children were lovely once they opened up, especially Rory. Funny and charming and sweetly innocent, and the spitting image of his father. Freya had been just as charming, but more wary of her.
    James had been a little wary, too, she thought as she drove home. As if he hadn’t really wanted to invite her in, but hadn’t felt there was a choice. He’d almost been defiant about it— this is me, take it or leave it .
    And his blunt honesty had sneaked under her guard.
    Her mother was just unloading shopping from the car when she turned into the drive, so instead of going into her own home in part of the converted barn on the other side of the farmyard, she went over and helped her mother carry the food into the big farmhouse kitchen, the dogs trailing hopefully at their heels.
    â€˜Been at work?’ her mother asked, and she gave a little smile as she put the bags down on the table and patted the dogs.
    â€˜Sort of. Earlier. I’ve just been to see James—he left his phone behind last night and I dropped it in to him.’
    Her mother straightened up from the fridge. ‘And?’ she asked, getting straight to the point.
    â€˜He’s got two little children—Rory, who’s about five, I suppose, and Freya, who must be coming up for eighteen months or so. Toddling about and starting to talk, and definitely got a personality.’
    â€˜Don’t sound so surprised. Babies are born with personality.’
    And she knew that, of course, and over the years she’d