Dreaming in Technicolor Read Online Free Page B

ol’ Saint Nick needs a little vacation now and then. You remember that.”
    â€œThanks, Esther. I’ll remember.”
    â€œâ€™Course it’s December.” She gave him a warning look. “Christmas is right around the corner. Hope you’re prepared. Not good to wait ’til the last minute.” She adjusted her beret. “Gotta go spread me some more holiday cheer. Don’t work too hard.”
    â€œWe won’t,” Alex and I chorused as she jangled out the door. Then he turned to me with a meaningful look.
    No, not that kind of look. I only wish. On the job he was Mr. Professional.
    So was Spencer Tracy in Desk Set , but that didn’t stop him from planting a big one on Katharine Hepburn.

    â€œYou got flour on your nose, An Beebee. ” Lexie giggled.
    â€œAnd you’ve got green sugar sprinkles on your chin,” I said, leaning over and kissing the sweet spot off my adorable niece’s face. “Mmm. Delicious. Why, I don’t even need a cookie. I’ll just have Lexie-girl for my sugar cutout instead.” Swooping toward her, I made fake chomping Cookie Monster sounds.
    Lexie squealed with delight and ran toward my sister-in-law, Karen. “Save me, Mommy. Save me.” Karen reached down for her, but she veered off at the last second, careening straight into Alex’s flour-covered knees and dissolving into giggles again.
    â€œI think perhaps someone’s had too much sugar,” he said, hoisting my niece in his arms.
    â€œDon’t let her fool you,” observed my mother with a grin. “She’s like that most of the time.” She glanced my way. “They all are.”
    â€œAnd you love it,” I shot back, reaching for one of the cookies she’d just piled on a platter. She just smiled and swatted at my hand.
    It was the first Saturday in December—traditional Christmas cookie-baking day in the Grant household. As a child, I’d loved the times when we gathered in our spacious kitchen to mix and cut out dough. In years that I’d been away from home, my brother’s family had come over to Mom’s to make the cookies. And this year, much to my delight, I was home to join in the fun. Even better, Mom had invited Alex to join us.
    â€œYou’d think you’ve never done this before,” Ashley, my eldest niece, teased him as he wiggled the cutter to release a very lopsided Christmas star.
    â€œActually,” he said to Ashley, “I never have.”
    Seven pairs of stricken eyes swiveled to him. “You’ve never baked Christmas cookies?” ten-year-old Elizabeth asked.
    â€œNope. My mom always did the baking by herself. Besides, they don’t have Christmas cookies in England.”
    â€œChristmas without cookies?” Jacob and Lexie said in horrified unison. “But if you don’t have cookies, what do you leave out for Santa on Christmas Eve?”
    â€œI don’t know. A mince pie, perhaps?”
    Seven pairs of raised eyebrows met his.
    â€œMince pies are a British institution and are nothing if not compulsory at Christmas,” Alex explained. “From the beginning of December onward, if you call in at any friend or family member’s house, you will be offered tea, coffee, port, mulled wine, or some other beverage, but always a mince pie.”
    Elizabeth frowned. “What’s it made of?”
    My mother reached over to gather up scraps of dough. “Isn’t it the same as our mincemeat?”
    â€œMeat? In a pie?” Jacob licked a couple of chocolate sprinkles from his five-year-old fingers.
    â€œLike chicken potpie, silly,” Elizabeth said.
    â€œThere’s actually no meat at all, but it does resemble a potpie, only smaller. It’s filled with fruit preserves, cinnamon, nutmeg, and brandy.” Alex released a wistful sigh. “But even more than that, what I really love is Christmas pudding.”
    â€œI like pudding