Read Online Sarah's Christmas Miracle by Mary Ellis - Free Book Online Page A

kitchen. “Oh, good,” said Mrs. Pratt as she flitted around the room in a tizzy. “You’re here early. Hurry to wash up and get your apron on, dear girl. We have a barrel of monkeys today.”
    Sarah complied with a smile. A barrel of monkeys was Mrs. Pratt’s favorite expression for multiple dietary requests from the guests. Without batting an eyelash, an innkeeper must learn to handle vegans, diabetics, and those who were lactose intolerant or required gluten-free fare. The two women served breakfast with their customary proficiency and then sent the guests on their way for a day of holiday shopping.
    Sarah carried two mugs of coffee to their usual breakfast spot before going back for French toast. When she returned, Mrs. Pratt had settled in the chair next to the window. The slanted winter light revealed dark circles and deep creases around her eyes.
    “You look tired,” Sarah said. “Didn’t you sleep well? Did Roy keep you awake with his snoring?”
    “Nope, can’t blame my husband this time.” Mrs. Pratt sipped coffee and glanced down at her plate of food. The network of bright red spidery veins across her eyelids alarmed Sarah.
    “Have you been crying? What’s wrong? Is there something you’d like to talk about?” Sarah set down her fork.
    “Just eat, child. I’m all right.” Mrs. Pratt stared out the window at the low, threatening sky. “I talked to my daughter last night. She still can’t tell me whether they are coming for Christmas or not. Her husband’s still afraid to ask for time off. I’d like to know whether I should wrap the gifts for under the tree or pack them for shipping to Louisiana.” She returned her attention to the table and buttered an English muffin fiercely. “If I press her to decide yay or nay, she’ll just say they are not coming. Then I’ll have cut off my nose to spite my face.”
    Sarah didn’t quite understand the English expression, but she caught the drift. “Perhaps you could wrap up the gifts fancy for under the tree, and then, if need be, we could pack them up for shipping at the last minute. If the gifts arrive after the holiday, so be it. You won’t be there to see your grandchildren’s faces during the unwrapping anyway.”
    Mrs. Pratt met her gaze over her coffee cup. “That’s true enough, isn’t it? I’ll hope for the best, and if the worst happens, I won’t worry if the presents are late.” She ate her French toast with a bit more enthusiasm.
    “It’ll be a big deal for you if they don’t visit, won’t it?” Sarah asked the question, but she already knew the answer by the woman’s expression.
    “I can’t believe I might not see my daughter and her family on Christmas! Some things should be more important than jobs and paychecks. Maybe they have bills to pay and obligations, but if you can’t be close to your loved ones during the holidays, what’s it all for?” She dropped her fork on her unfinished breakfast and rose from the chair.
    Sarah glimpsed tears in her boss’ eyes. “What about your son? Are you sure he’s not coming either?” Her taste for food had also evaporated.
    “Who knows? I called him on the phone and went straight to voice mail. I’ve sent him three e-mails and haven’t received one reply. At least his present is always a gift card—no problem packing that up to send.”
    “I take it there are no reservations for Christmas Eve?”
    “Goodness, no. I wouldn’t take a reservation for that night even if I knew for sure my family wasn’t coming. People should be with friends or family on Christmas. If Roy and I are alone, we’ll go to church and then I’ll sit by the fire reading my Bible until bedtime. For supper, I’ll heat up something from the fridge. It won’t be the end of the world. You know I always have leftovers.” She walked into the dining room with Sarah on her heels.
    As they scraped and stacked plates into the tub, Mrs. Pratt began humming—a sure sign she was upset. Sarah racked her