Read Online Christmas at the Hummingbird House by Donna Ball - Free Book Online Page A

labor.”
    “I’ll get the stands,” Derrick said.
    Paul said, “I’ll get the toolbox.”
    To which Derrick replied, “We have a toolbox?”
    Paul ignored him and went around the porch toward the toolshed while Derrick went into the house.  He cut through the kitchen, which was filled with the delectable aromas of soup simmering on the stove and something sweet and fruity baking in the oven.  He stopped to lift the lid from what appeared to be a vegetable soup with wild rice and mushrooms, inhaling the fragrance appreciatively, and then he pushed through the swinging door of the butler’s pantry on his way to the storage room that lay beyond. There he stopped.
    Every piece of silver they owned was scattered across the trestle worktable, platters, urns, bowls, serving pieces, dinnerware, vases.  And in the center of it all was a dark-haired, doe-eyed, nut-brown girl in a red calico dress, one of the silver candlesticks Derrick had gotten in Prague clutched in each of her fists. She let out a startled squeal when she saw him and Derrick let out a gasp.  He backed out the swinging door and into the kitchen, crying, “Purline!”  Just as Paul burst in from the outside, calling, “Purline!” and looking as distracted as Derrick was.
    Derrick pointed helplessly to the pantry.  “There’s an urchin in there with all our silver!”
    “There are children in the toolshed!” Paul cried just as Purline raced into the kitchen, a dustcloth in one hand and a can of spray polish in the other.
    “What?” she demanded, breathing hard.  “Who screamed?  What’s wrong?”
    With his arm still lifted toward the pantry, Derrick began, “Purline, there’s a …”
    Paul interrupted, “Purline, did you know there were two …”
    Understanding dawned as they each came to the same conclusion.
    “Your children,” Derrick said.  They had been so preoccupied with the Christmas trees that neither of them had noticed when Purline came to work, and of course they had far too much on their minds to remember the children she had told them she was bringing today.
    At that moment, the door to the pantry swung open and the little girl came out, still clutching one of the candlesticks. Purline put aside the cleaning supplies and opened her arms to the child, her face breaking into a tender smile.  “Mimi, come here to Mommy.”
    Mimi complied, her expression solemn, and Purline stood the child in front of her, stroking her hair affectionately.  “Sweetpea, this is Mr. Paul and Mr. Derrick.  They’re mommy’s bosses, or at least they think they are.  This is my little girl Naomi,” she told the two men.  “Mimi for short.  She’s eight years old.”  She looked down at her daughter.  “Say hello, and then get back to work.”
    “Hello, Mr. Paul and Mr. Derrick,” she said in a voice so sweet and earnest that even Paul’s lips quirked with amusement.  “I’m sorry I screamed at you, Mr. Derrick.” 
    Purline gave a brusque, approving nod, her lips tightening with an almost repressed smile.  “She’s smart as a whip.  I know she don’t look that much like me, but that’s because she’s adopted.  We brought her back from a mission trip to Honduras when she was six years old.”
    “Ah,” exclaimed Paul.  “That explains it.”
    “We wondered how you could have school age children when you’re so young,” Derrick explained.
    She said pertly, “Well, now you know. Or you could’ve just asked.”
    “Well, it hardly seemed appropriate,” Paul demurred.
    Derrick said helpfully, “We talked about adopting when we were younger.”
    “But since neither of us actually like children …”  Paul let the sentence trail off with a self-explanatory shrug.
    “We tabled the idea,” Derrick concluded.
    The back door opened and two small, brown-haired, freckle-faced boys in matching red parkas came in on a gust of cold air, surveying the two men suspiciously.  No one could doubt that these two belonged to