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Lou turned the letter over in his hand. There wasn't any purpose in
reminding Michael that the letter had been addressed to the
investigating officer on the case. "It's possible. It's the first lead
we've had on this in nearly twenty years." He remembered the police
photograph of
a little boy, and looked up at his son. "I guess you're going to
London."
EMMA ROLLED our cookie dough and tried to put her heart into it. She'd
always loved Christmas. This year, for the first time since childhood,
she would be spending it with her family. The kitchen smelled of
cinnamon and brown sugar, carols were playing through the speakers, and
Bev was measuring out ingredients for plum pudding. Outside, a light
snow was falling.
But her heart wasn't in it. She was afraid it was six thousand miles
away, with Michael.
As Emma pressed the cutters into the dough, Bev slipped an arm around
her. "I'm so glad you're here, Emma. It means everything to me, and
your father."
"And to me." She scooped up a cookie in the shape of a snowflake and
laid it on the baking sheet. "You used to let me do this when I was
little. If Johnno was around, he'd come in and pinch a few before they
were even cooked."
"Why do you think I sent him off with Bri?" She watched Emma sprinkle
colored sugar over the tops. "You miss Michael, don't you?"
"I didn't know I would. Not this much." She carried the tray to the
oven. "It's silly. It's only two weeks." After setting the timer, she
walked back to ball the dough together and roll it again. It felt good
to do something with her hands, to feel competent. In charge. "It's
probably good for me to get away. I don't want to get too involved too
quickly."
"Katherine says you're making wonderful progress."
"I think I am. I'm grateful to her for staying on with me in L.A. for
the last couple of months. I wasn't always," she added with a smile.
"But talking things out helped."
"You're still having nightmares."
"Not as often. And I'm getting back to work, finally pus.h.i.+ng through
with the book." She paused with a cookie cutter in her hand. "A year
ago, Christmas was a nightmare. This year, it's almost perfect." She
glanced over as the kitchen door swung open. The cookie cutter
clattered to the floor. "Michael?"
"The housekeeper said I should just come back."
She didn't think. She didn't need to. With a cry'of pleasure, she
raced into his arms. Before he could speak again, her mouth was on his.
"I can't believe you're here." She pulled back, laughed, and began to
dust him off. "I've got flour all over you."
"I'm sure I can find a dozen things to do." Bev wiped her hands on a
cloth and slipped out the door.
"You said you couldn't come," Emma began.
"I had a change in schedule." He drew her close again, wanting another
taste. Desire rippled through him as her mouth moved warm under his.
