Sniffing the air, she realized that he was cooking. It wasn't the first time Remington had cooked for them, of course. She'd been surprised at his possessing that particular skill, and more than a little chagrined as well. Here she was, with a five year old daughter, and still couldn't make eatable spaghetti.
When she'd realized that her mother was going to be gone for Christmas, and that her sister Frances and her family were spending the holiday with her husband's family, Laura had seriously considered not mentioning any of that to Remington and taking Rikki to spend a few days in the peace and quiet of her mother's Connecticut colonial style house. The tug of war between the child's father and god-father- while totally unnoticed by Rikki herself- was difficult on Laura, who had to spend hours at the office with the two men.
It had been Rikki who had spilled the beans about their being alone over Christmas. Maria had left earlier in the day for Mexico, to spend Christmas with her large family there. Upon hearing the news, Remington had insisted on coming over to stay with Rikki on Christmas Eve- at least until Laura got home from the office. Although, why she'd even bothered to keep the doors open today, she had no idea. No one ever needed the Agency during Christmas.
As she moved toward the kitchen doorway, she heard Rikki laugh again, and this time Remington joined in. They were sitting at the table, Rikki on her knees in a chair as Remington sketched something on a piece of paper. "That's funny!" Rikki said, her laughter beginning again when Remington finished.
She leaned in the doorway, watching their two dark heads together, so alike in so many ways. "Do another!" Rikki demanded as only a five year old can.
Laura fully expected him to give in as he always did, but he shook his head and said, "I'll do you some more after dinner," he promised. "Right now, we need to get back to that or it won't be done before your mother gets home."
Rikki sat there, a stubborn expression on her face. "I want another picture," she said.
"And I said later. Now, go wash your hands so that you can set the table, okay?" About that time, Remington looked up and saw Laura standing there. "Hey there," he said, smiling at her. "You're early."
"Not much going on at the office," she told him, giving Rikki a hug as the child came over to her with the paper in her hands.
"See what Uncle Rem made me, Mommy?" she asked, holding it up.
Remington busied himself with attending to the various pots and pans on the stove as Laura examined his drawings - caricatures, really- of various animals and cartoon characters. "They're very nice, sweetheart," Laura agreed, keeping the paper. "Go wash up."
Rikki left them alone, and Laura moved to the table, sliding the paper onto its surface. "You're very talented. At least I know now where Rikki gets her artistic talent."
He nodded, adjusting the flame under a pan before replacing the lid. "Dinner should be ready soon."
"I didn't expect you to make dinner for us," Laura told him.
"No trouble," he assured her. "I just followed what Maria had planned for dinner." He turned to look at her. "I think you've got time for a quick shower if you hurry."
Laura nodded. "Okay. I'll just- go do that."
"Okay," he said, watching her as she slowly turned and left the room. Smiling, he turned back to the counter to pick up some plates and put them onto the table as Rikki came returned, holding out her hands for inspection. "Perfect as always," he told her. "Think you can get the silver?" he asked.
Rikki frowned. "Silver?"
"Forks, spoons?"
She went to the drawer and opened it, peering inside to find three of each, then placed them carefully beside the plates. "I did it," she told him proudly.
Remington glanced at the place settings and nodded. "So you did. Very nice." It didn't really matter that they were all on the wrong side, or that the spoons were large, did it? He was counting on today and tomorrow to reassure Laura, to get her used to his being around a bit more. He emptied the baby peas into the bowl he'd set out, and the creamed potatoes followed next. The pot roast that Maria had put on earlier in the day was done to perfection, and all he had to do was put it onto a platter and set it on the table with the rest of the meal. "What else?" he asked Rikki.
She got into her chair and leaned over the table while on her knees. "Milk."
"Ah." He nodded and found a glass for Rikki's milk, then placed two glasses of water for himself and Laura, subtly rearranging the silver as he did so. "Why don't you go see if your mother's about ready, eh, Poppet?"
She clambered back out of the chair and started to run toward the door, then stopped and looked at him. He winked, and she continued from the room at a hurried walk. Remington took the opportunity to switch the tablespoons for teaspoons, finishing the task as Rikki led her mother, who was now wearing jeans and an oversize shirt, into the room.
Remington pulled Rikki's chair out, then Laura's before sitting down himself. Laura took a bite of the pot roast and nodded. "It's good."
"It's Maria's," he told her truthfully. "She put it on before she left. I just finished it up and added the vegetables."
After dinner, Laura sent Remington and Rikki out into the living room. "I'll take care of this," she said, indicating the dirty dishes. When he would have protested, she said, "It's the least I can do to repay you for looking after Rikki this afternoon and making dinner."
"I could think of another way," he said softly, an open invitation in his blue eyes and shrugged when she just stood there. Rikki pulled impatiently on his hand. "You're sure you don't need any help?" he asked.
Laura shook her head. "Won't take me a minute," she assured him.
Remington finally allowed Rikki to pull him from the room with a quiet laugh at her attempts. "What's the hurry?" she heard him asking the child.
"Wanna look at presents," she said.
"I have a better idea," was all Laura heard as their voices faded. She turned her attention to cleaning up the kitchen, surprised anew that Remington was one of those cooks who tended to clean up *while* cooking, so that they didn't have to do as much after. He was certainly full of surprises, her man of mystery. He was a con-man, a jewel and art thief, yes, but he was also patient and gentle, a wonderful cook and simply adored his daughter. As she was getting out the mug to be used later for Santa's hot chocolate, a bottle of wine caught her attention. She picked it up and looked at it. She'd had it for several years. A client had given it to her in appreciation for solving a case. Finding her wine glasses took a moment- they were on a top shelf of the cabinet. The corkscrew, however, was easy to locate, and after rinsing the glasses, she opened the wine and poured two glasses of the drink.
She fully expected to find Rikki sitting in her usual spot before the Christmas tree, pointing out which presents were hers and which were Laura's. But she wasn't. Instead, she was sitting in Remington's lap, her eyes aglow in the twinkling lights, listening as he spoke in that soft tone about a Christmas he remembered as a boy in London. "And on Christmas morning, we all gathered 'round the huge tree with its twinkling lights and shining ornaments," he was saying, "and sang carols before opening the gifts. Oh, it was a wonderful day," he sighed.
"What'd Santa bring you?" Rikki asked.
Laura handed him one of the glasses of wine and nodded at his grateful smile as she curled up on the other end of the sofa to watch them.
"We called him Father Christmas," Remington explained. "Let's see, what *did* I get that year?" he paused, as if trying to remember. "Hmm. A sled- and some crayons for drawing with- and ream of paper to use them on so that my mum didn't have to keep fretting about the walls-" Rikki giggled at the gentle reminder of her own attempt to use the wall as a canvas for her works of art.
As he continued down the list of presents, Laura sipped her wine; laughing when he'd say something amusing. He was a wonderful storyteller. On more than one occasion over the last four months, Laura had found herself out of her usual bedtime story job if Remington was around. Even with a book in hand, he could weave a tale to make even an adult's eyes grow wide with delight.
When he finished, Laura said, "I think it's time for a bath and bedclothes."
Rikki looked at her in disappointment, until Remington said, "Early night tonight. Don't want Santa to find you still awake when he gets here, do you?"
That was enough for Rikki to climb off of his lap and pull at Laura's hand. "Let's go, Mommy."
Laura laughed, putting down her glass of wine to follow the child.
Remington, glass of wine still in hand, rose and went to examine the tree. The handmade ornaments caused him to smile sadly, thinking of his own patchwork childhood. He'd never had the chance to make ornaments for a Christmas tree that would survive through the years. Scanning the packages, he was surprised to find several with his name on them in Rikki's crayon scrawl. His gaze moved around the room. It was decked out in green, red, silver and gold. Laura certainly didn't stint on Christmas. The place looked like something out of "Elves Home Weekly", he thought.
His wine glass empty, he picked up Laura's and went back to the kitchen for a refill, returning in time to find Rikki back before the tree, now wearing a red and white pair of pajamas with what looked to be Santa's reindeer on them.
Laura took the glass from him. "Thank you. She wanted to see the tree once more before we made Santa's hot chocolate and got the cookies ready."
"Hot chocolate and cookies?" he questioned.
Rikki turned to look at him in surprise as Laura asked, "You never left them for Santa?"
"Oh- we left tea and biscuits," he informed her, trying to save the situation quickly. But from the look in Laura's eyes, he knew he'd failed miserably.
Rikki jumped to her feet and grabbed his hand. "I'll show you how to make the hot choc'late," she offered, pulling him back toward the kitchen.
"I think he can mange that part, Rikki," Laura said, laughing as she followed.
"Oh, I'm always open to cooking tips," Remington assured her with a wink as they entered the kitchen. "What do I do first?" he asked Rikki.
"You heat some water," she said.
"How?"
She giggled. "In a pan."
Remington dug into the cupboard and pulled out a Dutch oven. "Like this?"
Another giggle. "No. A little pan." She went over and pulled out the pan they always used for hot chocolate. "Here."
"Okay. Now what?"
Rikki sighed and put her hands on her hips, unconsciously mimicking her mother's sign of frustration. Laura sat down at the table, a hand over her mouth to hide her own laughter. "Put water in it. Enough for a cup of chocolate."
"I see." He put some water into the pan and held it for her to look into. "Like this?"
She nodded. "Now put it on the stove and turn it on."
Remington did as she instructed. "What now?"
"Get the Santa cup," Rikki said, pointing at the cup that Laura had placed on the counter earlier. It was a heavy, red mug with holly and snowflakes decorating its surface. "Then get the hot chocolate mix-"
"Where is that?" Remington asked, trying not to laugh as Rikki sighed deeply.
She opened the pantry door and stood on tip toe to retrieve the box of packets from the shelf to hand it to Remington. "You empty one into the cup," she explained.
"I see." He looked into the box. "You're sure one's enough?"
"Uncle Rem-"
"Okay." He carefully tore the packet open and dumped it into the mug, tossing the empty package into the trash.
"Is the water hot?" Rikki asked.
"Yes."
"Pour it into the cup and stir."
"Stir? You didn't mention stirring," Remington said, hesitating as he started to pour. Rikki giggled again at his expression of uncertainty. "I'm not sure I can handle that part. Tell you what, why don't you get a spoon and I'll let you stir it?"
He poured the water into the mug and put it on the table while Rikki retrieved a spoon from the drawer. Remington lifted her into a chair, and watched as she stirred the drink. "I thought hot chocolate had marshmallows," he commented.
"Santa doesn't like marshmallows," Laura told him.
"Ah. You mentioned cookies?"
Rikki nodded. "You'll need a little plate."
She was learning, Laura decided. Instead of giving him the chance to drag out a big plate, as he had with the pan, she'd gone right to the small ones. "Like this?" Remington asked, meeting Laura's knowing gaze over their daughter's dark head.
"The cookies are in the cookie jar-" Rikki said, pointing to the brown crock that sat on the counter, emblazoned with the word "COOKIES" in bright gold letters.
Remington lifted the lid. "How many?" he asked.
"Two," she told him.
He pulled out two decorated sugar cookies and set them carefully on the plate, then pulled out another cookie. "These look good."
"Maria makes the *best* cookies," Rikki nodded as she took a cookie from him. "I helped her."
"I bet you're a very good helper, too," Remington said, offering a cookie to Laura.
"Maybe later," she told him.
"What do we do with the hot chocolate and cookies?" Remington asked Rikki.
"Put them by the Christmas tree," she explained. "With a note-I gotta write a note," she declared, and took off.
Laura couldn't hold her laughter back any longer. "You're very good with her."
"Maybe because I haven't grown up either," he suggested, refilling their glasses again. "I'll carry the chocolate. You bring the cookies."
Rikki met them in the living room with her note. "To Santa," it read simply, in bright red crayon. She put the paper beside the saucer and stepped back. "It's ready," she declared.
"Okay, then, its time for bed," Laura announced.
"Uncle Rem tell me a story," Rikki insisted.
"Okay," Remington agreed, letting him lead her toward the bedroom. "What story?"
"The Grinch!" Rikki declared as she got into her little bed and slipped under the covers.
Remington picked up the book that lay beside her pillow. "How the Grinch Stole Christmas," he read, looking at Laura.
"It's her favorite Christmas story."
"The Grinch it shall be, then," he said, and opened the book.
***
"Night, Poppet," he told her once the book ended. "Now go to sleep so that Santa can come and bring your presents."
"Pancakes tomorrow morning?" she asked sleepily.
Remington looked up to see Laura's surprised expression. "Pancakes. I promise." He gave her a kiss on the forehead, then stepped back to make way for Laura to say her goodnights. He went back to the living room and sat down, picking up his glass of wine, mentally girding himself for the fight that he knew was coming.
Laura entered the room, eyes ablaze. "Breakfast?" she asked.
"I thought I'd make pancakes, since Rikki likes them-"
"You're not going to be here to make breakfast," she pointed out. "I agreed that you could fix Christmas dinner, not-"
"And to do that, I have to be here tonight, since the goose needs to go into the oven very early in the morning," he said.
"It's not that big a goose. You are *not*-" she glanced toward Rikki's bedroom, and then lowered her voice. "You are *not* going to spend the night here tonight!"
Remington pulled an overnight case from behind the sofa. "I think I am. I'll take the sofa- unless you'd like to offer somewhere else for me to sleep?" he said suggestively.
"I don't think so."
He shrugged. "Worth a shot. But I'm not going home. I'm staying." He held up the cup of chocolate. "Don't you think you'd better drink this before it goes cold?"
She sat down in a chair and took the mug. "Didn't your family except you to spend the holiday with them?"
"No," he told her, suddenly intent on studying the glass of wine in his hand. "There is no family," he admitted softly. "I made it all up for Rikki's benefit," he said.
She sipped the chocolate, nodding as if he'd just confirmed her suspicions.
"I mean, I couldn't very well tell her the truth, now, could I?"
"What truth?" Laura asked.
"If I tell you, can I stay the night?"
She sighed, and Remington smiled, seeing the resemblance between mother and daughter again. "Okay. You can stay. On the sofa."
"You're a hard woman, Laura Holt."
"You mentioned something about truth?" she prompted.
Remington shrugged as he rose to his feet. "Not much to tell. Spent most of my childhood passed from aunt to cousin- at least, they said they were family. I wasn't always so certain about it. But it was usually a warm place to sleep and a bit of food. Most of them saw Christmas as just another excuse to have too many pints and take out their frustrations on whatever or whomever was at hand. So I spent most of the day trying to be invisible."
Laura watched as he studied the Christmas tree while he spoke. She finished the chocolate and the cookies, placing the note on the empty saucer and the mug on top of it. "I'll get you some blankets and a pillow," she said, heading for the bathroom and the linen closet.
He didn't respond, merely nodded to show he'd heard her. He was still standing there when she returned, promised blankets and pillow in hand. She dropped them onto the chair and started spreading the blanket on the sofa, only to have him grab her arm and pull her to face him. "Thank you, Laura."
"It's only blankets and a pillow," she said.
"Not for that. For letting me spend this Christmas with Rikki. And for - for having her to begin with. It would have been so much easier for you if you hadn't."
Laura shook her head. "I never considered doing anything else," she told him.
"I'm very grateful for that," he told her, and looked up. Laura followed his gaze to find a sprig of mistletoe that he'd found elsewhere. He was holding it over her head. "Merry Christmas, Ilsa," he said in a quiet tone.
Laura smiled. "Merry Christmas, Richard," she replied, meeting him halfway for a kiss.
Remington dropped the mistletoe to the floor as he brought both arms around her, pulling her even closer, lengthening and deepening the kiss. He could feel her defenses starting to crumble, ever so slowly. A little further-
Suddenly Laura pulled out of his arms, her breathing uneven. "Goodnight, Remington," she said, obviously trying to recover her equilibrium. "Rikki gets up early-"
He nodded, hiding his disappointment. He'd been so damn close. "I'll be fine."
She took another step away. "Should I- turn the Christmas tree off?"
He shook his head. "No. Leave it on. Santa needs something to see by, after all."
"Santa," she said. "The bike-"
"It's taken care of," Remington assured her. "It's safely hidden and I'll bring it inside before I go to sleep."
It was her turn to nod now, a stiff, jerky movement. "Goodnight," she said again, and then vanished into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. Remington thought he heard the soft sound of the lock clicking into place, but without going to check, he couldn't be sure.
He sat down on the sofa, kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt. Having Laura so near and yet so far away was going to make it impossible for him to sleep. Grabbing some things out of his case, he went to the main bath to take a shower and change into his pajamas.
The holiday wasn't over yet. There was still ample time . . .
To Be Continued---