A Hickory Ridge Christmas by Dana Corbit Page B

sprinkles that had decorated Rebecca along with the cookies.
    â€œNice? Nice, you say?” Todd wore an incredulous expression as he looked up from the table where he and Rebecca sat, cutting the shapes and putting them on baking sheets. “Now that cookie is amazing.”
    Setting his own cookie cutter aside, Todd moved the newest creation from Rebecca’s hand to the pan among the other stars, Christmas trees and Santashapes. On his black turtleneck and black jeans, he wore nearly as much flour and sprinkles as his daughter did. Hannah’s fingers itched to grab her camera again, but she’d already taken several pictures, and even Rebecca was sick of posing.
    â€œWhat color frosting are you going to put on it after it’s baked?” Todd asked her. “Green, white or red?”
    Rebecca squinted and studied the cookie for several seconds before coming to a decision. “Blue.”
    Todd nodded as if seeing the finished masterpiece the way Rebecca envisioned it. “Blue sounds great.”
    â€œYou mean we need to make more frosting?” Hannah put on her best stern expression when she asked it. Really, she didn’t mind a bit that they would use up all the flour, confectioner’s sugar and food coloring in the house and that she would be scrubbing cookie dough off the tabletop, cabinet doors and laminate kitchen floor for days.
    â€œMore frosting. Yum!”
    â€œYou were right, Becca.” Todd nuzzled his messy little girl under his chin. “This was a better idea than sledding.”
    She poked his nose playfully and squirmed out of his grasp. “You wanted to make cookies, Daddy.”
    â€œBut you were the one who thought it sounded like fun.”
    Hannah swallowed a chuckle as she took the three-step walk back to the counter where she’d been whipping frosting of various colors. She’d suspected that cookie making had been Todd’s idea, but now they’d confirmed it. Rebecca and her father could havegone sledding together as they had on Sunday, but he’d made a point of including Hannah this time in the fun. Gratitude filled her that he had. Maybe someday she would learn to enjoy the solitude while her daughter spent time with her father, but at this point, the apartment felt too empty, her heart too lonely.
    To keep her hands busy, Hannah pulled her last mixing bowl from the cabinet and measured one-third cup of butter for her fourth recipe of buttercream frosting.
    Rebecca must have recognized that the new project left the other bowls unattended because she slipped over to the counter, pulled a bowl down to her level and scooped a dollop of green frosting with her finger. She had that finger in her mouth before Hannah could turn off the mixer.
    â€œRebecca Faith Woods.” Hannah pretended to threaten her child with the business end of a rubber spatula and earned a round of giggles for her trouble.
    Todd glanced over from the table, but his mouth was tight. At first, his reaction confused Hannah until she realized she’d spoken their daughter’s last name aloud. That name wasn’t McBride.
    She was beginning to imagine how uncomfortable that had to make Todd and how important it would be to him for his child to carry his name. Hannah met his gaze and smiled at him tremulously, hoping it reassured him. The name would be another thing they would discuss in the weeks to come.
    Todd smiled back at her, and the strangest thing happened. Oh, she remembered it, all right. Kneeslike gelatin without a proper mold. Pulse pounding out a Latin beat. With Todd, she’d felt this strange sensation so many times—a tickling electricity, a sense of being more fully alive. In the last five years, she hadn’t felt anything like it.
    Not until Todd came back.
    Hannah drew in a sharp breath that she covered by clearing her throat. As a distraction, she flipped the mixer back on and whipped the butter until it was fluffy.
    But the