LITMIR.BIZ

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turn. “We were trying to make it red and green on the inside. You know. Like to be Christmasy.” She took a breath. “Dad said we absolutely can’t bother you. So we’re leaving right now, this very instant.”

      She noticed the golf cart behind them. Saw the hope on their faces, no matter what they said. “You can’t even come in to sample a brownie? That’s an awful lot for just me to eat by myself.”

      “I don’t think we can. No matter how much we want to.” Pepper let out a massive sigh.

      “Hmm. What if I call your dad and asked him myself if you could stay awhile?”

      “Oh.” Both girls lit up like sparklers. “Yeah. If you call him, it’ll be okay.”

      There ended her bubble of solitude. She called Whit first, so he knew the girls were safely with her, said they wanted to share a brownie with her, and she’d have the girls call when they were headed home. It wouldn’t be long.

      Just that short conversation invoked symptoms she’d suffered when she met him yesterday. It was as if she’d been exposed to a virus. She felt oddly achy and restless, hot—when there was no excuse in the universe to react like a dimwit toward a perfect stranger.

      But the girls distracted her from thinking any more about their father. The first priority was testing the brownies—which were fabulous. Both girls could somehow eat and talk nonstop at the same time.

      Pepper went first. “Our dad thought we couldn’t handle Christmas at home. But we both know he’s the one who can’t. He hasn’t been out one single time since mom died. You know what that means?”

      Rosemary was afraid to answer. “How about if you tell me what you think it means.”

      “It means that he’s trying to be there for us 24/7. Rosemary, he’s driving us nuts. He wants us to do things together all the time.”

      “And that’s bad?” She might not have a chance to think about Whit in connection with herself, but if the conversation was going to be all about him...well there’s not much she can do about it. She reached for a second brownie, feeling self-righteous as the devil herself.

      “It’s not bad. Because we love him. But can you picture a pajama party with seven girls and my dad trying to fit in?”

      “Um...no.”

      “Everybody in our class at school likes going to the movies. It’s like a couple miles, though, so if the weather’s good, we walk. Otherwise one of the moms drive. But Dad, when it was his turn, he wanted to go inside with us. He sat in the back. Like the kids wouldn’t know he was there?”

      “Um...” Rosemary eyed a third brownie.

      “We know he’s lonely. He really loved our mom. He just can’t seem to get over it. But it’s been a year. I mean, we miss her, too.”

      Lilly said softly, “I think about her every day.”

      “I do, too!” Pepper said defensively.

      “But really, we would have been fine just being home for Christmas. Then we could have had friends over. Or gone to their houses. See the Christmas movies and all that. So...” Lilly looked at her sister.

      “So...” Pepper picked up the refrain.

      “So...we were wondering if you would do some things with us. I don’t mean every second, like when you have to work and stuff. But we’re going to do a tree. And make some ornaments. Bake some cookies. It’s stuff we’re already doing, so we’re not asking you to work. We’d just like you to be, well, another person.”

      “She is another person, stupid.” Pepper, naturally.

      “I know that, numbskull.” Lilly turned to her again. “I meant, so Dad could see he didn’t have to be hovering over us all the time. That it’s okay. We’re eleven. Practically adults. We don’t need a parent in the same room with us every single minute.”

      “Besides, we want you there for ourselves. Because I’m sick of this hairstyle. And we’ve been arguing about how it’d look best. Lilly thinks we should both grow it way long. I think we should go short, and like, with spikes. You could help us with an opinion.”

      Lilly took her plate to the counter. “We wanted to bring you a tree. We’re cutting down our tree tomorrow, so we told Dad, why don’t we get one for Rosemary, too? But he said we had no way to know if you even wanted one. Don’t you want a Christmas tree?”

      Every direction she turned, she seemed to face the gruesome problem of taking sides. And all their dad conversation was prickly—they kept relaying things that were private and none of her business. Even their enthusiasm at being around her was touchy—they were fun; she really wouldn’t mind visits from them now and then. It wasn’t as if she’d had a choice to spend the holiday alone. But Whit might not appreciate a stranger in the middle of their private holiday, no matter what the girls thought they wanted.

      “Where did you get the golf cart?” she asked, hoping for a diversion.

      “It was in the shed with the Gator. It came with the property. It’ll go a few miles, like four or something, and then you just plug it back in. Dad won’t let us drive the Gator, but he said we could use the cart to carry the brownies to your house and then come back.”

      “You weren’t scared you’d run into your bear again?”

      “A little. But we can go pretty fast in the cart. And we brought cookie sheets to make noise. We read a bunch about bears last night. Mostly it’s like the stuff you told us. If a person doesn’t do something that upsets him, the bear’s really not interested in humans anyway.” Pepper was about to jump up from the table, when her sister gave her a finger point. She rolled her eyes, but grabbed her dish and took it to the counter. “Anyhow, I know we’re supposed to go home, like now, but could you just show us your darkroom really quick? Show us how you make pictures?”

      That sounded like a fine idea to Rosemary.

      And the kids had a blast. The three were crowded in the small space, and the girls seemed entranced with everything.

      “The thing I’m confused about,” Pepper said, “is why you’re making your own photographs. I mean, couldn’t you just get a digital camera? Or a phone where you could take pictures?”

      “I could do both those things—and sometimes do,” Rosemary explained. “But when I do these myself, then I own those photos. It’s a legal thing. I’m responsible for the research and the work, so I wouldn’t want anyone using my photos without my permission. It’s like a protection.”

      “I get it.” Lilly then had questions about the house—why it was so big and interesting, and was it really old, and how did she make the darkroom?

      “The lodge has been in the MacKinnon family for generations—so lots of family members used it for summer getaways and vacations and holidays and just family gatherings. It was always kept pretty rustic, but when I knew I was going to be staying here for quite a while, I put in electricity and ran cable wires and all that.” She motioned. “This used to be a utility room. It already had a sink and rough shelves. But when I set it up as a darkroom—well, one problem is that everything has to be put away perfectly—because once you’ve turned out the lights, you have to find what you need in the dark.”

      “So we can turn out the lights?” Lilly asked.

      “Sure. But first let me show you what certain things are used for.” The blackout shades had the obvious purpose. The extractor fan sucked out the chemical odors. She pointed out the safelight. And next to the old sink was a long “wet bench” made of something similar to Formica. “That’s where the developing trays go—where you’re developing the photos...and at the far end, there’s a squeegee to remove excess water from the prints.”

      “This so beyond awesome,” Lilly said.

      “What’s

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