Keli Gwyn - Their Mistletoe Matchmakers

“Ah.” He flashed her a winsome smile and continued, his lovely rolled R a bit more pronounced than usual. “You’re wondering if I can cook. The answer is yes. I’m a long-time bachelor and know my way around a kitchen. Besides, I’ll have Gladys there to make sure I don’t make a mess of things.”

His confidence eased the tension in Lavinia’s shoulders. “Very well. I’ll leave the meal in your hands then.”

“Don’t worry. It will be a feast you’ll remember for years to come.”

Chapter Three

The blast of pumpkin-scented air that escaped as Henry opened the oven door that afternoon made his mouth water. He could almost taste the rich filling. Plunging a butter knife into it and marring that smooth surface wouldn’t be easy, but he had to know if the pie was fully baked. He stuck in the blade and quickly pulled it out. Clean.

Gladys lay on the settee he’d moved into the kitchen and watched as he set the pan on a trivet in the middle of the table. “If that tastes as good as it smells, we’re in for a treat. The custard is smooth, and your pie crust turned out quite flaky. I never heard of keeping the ingredients on ice before, but I’m going to try that next time.”

“I think every kitchen should have an icebox. I’m surprised Mr. Crowne’s doesn’t.”

She snorted. “He’s not one to think about making life easier for his household staff. It’s a different story when it comes to his hotels and restaurants, though. I hear they have all the modern conveniences.”

Henry wasn’t surprised. From what he’d seen, Paul Crowne put his hotel empire before everything else, even his own family. They were expected to do his bidding, just as his employees and vendors were. Henry had seen that himself when Jack landed the contract for the iron work at the Crowne Jewel Hotel in Philadelphia. Mr. Crowne had barked orders at Jack. The domineering man had been just as demanding with Pauline, whose artistic bent had earned her the right to plan the hotel’s décor.

To her credit, his eldest daughter hadn’t cowed under the pressure. Pauline had stood up to her father regarding the work. She did so again when she fell in love with Jack and chose to marry him against her father’s wishes. She’d held her head high at the wedding, even though her father had refused to come and forbade his wife from attending, too.

At least Lavinia had shown up. Whether she’d chosen to defy her father or not, Henry didn’t know. She was understandably reserved that day, glossing over the matter of her parents’ glaring absence with well-rehearsed comments. Despite her aloofness, he’d detected a note of sadness in her bearing and pain in her eyes.

His attempt to make her feel more welcome at the wedding had resulted in disaster. She hadn’t heard him coming and had started, causing her to drop the piece of cake she’d been holding. Her mortification led to a temporary collapse of the barrier she’d erected. In that moment, he’d seen a joyless young woman trapped in a lonely existence.

If only she could break free, as her sister had. But from what he’d seen so far, Lavinia was more deeply entrenched in the ways of her father’s world than before. Worse yet, she wanted to whisk the children away and immerse them in that life, too, which wasn’t going to happen. They deserved to be happy. So did their devoted aunt, who was trying hard to prove that she was capable of caring for them.

Henry smiled at the memory of Lavinia staring at the frying pans that morning with determination befitting a military commander facing a ruthless foe. If only she could bring that stoutheartedness to bear in her dealings with her iron-fisted father.

“Don’t be daydreaming, Mr. Henry,” Gladys chided. “This meal won’t fix itself.”

He roused himself from his musings. “You’re right.”

“At least you took a pleasant journey, judging by that smile.”

The front door opened, and childish laughter filled the entryway. Lavinia and the children had returned. With school finished for the day, the holiday recess was officially underway. Despite the terrible losses they’d suffered the past year, they would celebrate with a meal sure to help ease the heaviness in their hearts.

Dot burst into the kitchen first and flung herself at him. “We’re back, Uncle Henry.”

“I see.” He scooped her into his arms. “It must be cold out there. Your cheeks are rosy, and your nose is red.” He popped the tip of it with a finger.

The little girl giggled. “The hot cocoa will warm us up. Is it ready?”

“It will be. I just have to fill the mugs.”

“And put whipped cream on top, right?”

“By all means. I can’t imagine cocoa without it.”

Marcie and Alex arrived, followed by Lavinia, who greeted Gladys, plumped the pillows behind her and pulled up the throw that had slipped off the side of the settee. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit better.”

“Helping Henry isn’t too taxing, is it?”

Gladys glanced at him and actually smiled. Her gruff exterior didn’t fool him. He’d seen the longing in the housekeeper’s eyes when he’d joked with the children. Not that he let on that he’d been watching her. If he had to guess, he’d say that the longtime servant had faced difficulties in the past, which had left her hardened. How sad. Life was meant to be enjoyed not endured.

She returned her attention to Lavinia. “I’m not much help, other than keeping him company and serving as his taster. Mr. Henry is a far better cook and baker than I’ll ever be. Just wait until you sit down to the meal tomorrow.”

He eagerly awaited Lavinia’s response. He’d poured himself into the preparations in the hope that she’d see how supportive he was of her plan to make this year’s holiday celebrations the best they could be. The fact that he was enjoying himself immensely was a bonus. He embraced any excuse to spend time cooking. His opportunities to do so were few and far between, but one day...

No. He wouldn’t be opening a restaurant after all. He’d been granted the privilege of caring for the children, and working well into the night wouldn’t fit with his new role in their lives.

“I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.” Lavinia’s words lacked conviction, and her smile appeared forced, which was puzzling.

Marcie bounded up to him. “I’m going to eat lots, Uncle Henry.”

“Me, too,” Alex added.

Henry shifted Dot to a more comfortable position on his hip. “How about you, Dimples? Are you going to fill your plate?”

She nodded so enthusiastically that her curls bounced.

“And what will be on it?” Henry asked.

“Food.”

Laughter erupted all around him, but he managed to keep a straight face. “What kind of food? Turkey? Stuffing?”

“She doesn’t like stuffing,” Marcie informed them. “But I do. Mama’s stuffing tasted so good.” The normally exuberant girl’s shoulders drooped, and her voice took on a sorrowful tone. “I wish she was still here to make it.”

“I miss her, too, sweetie, but I know she’d want us to be happy.” Lavinia wrapped an arm around Marcie and drew their niece to her side. “I think a cup of cocoa would be just the thing to cheer us up, and I heard your uncle say he’ll have it ready for you soon. Why don’t we get you out of your coats so you’re ready for it?”

The children trooped after Lavinia and returned shortly—without her. “Where’s your aunt?”

“In the parlor,” Alex said, “putting another log on the fire.”

“Very well. If you’ll take a seat at the table, I’ll serve you.”

They clambered into their chairs on the side opposite the pies and awaited their treat. He prepared the drinks with his back to them, carried over the steaming mugs and set one in front of each of them.