Page 3 of Colorado Christmas Carol

The next morning, she was up to her ears in breakfast with her helper, Mabel, who could make the best sausage and scrambled eggs she’d ever eaten, and the two maids, Jessie and Jennie, who took orders and served.

There had been a sous chef until last week, when he got into an argument with the manager and was fired.

So now Essa was doing it all. She hoped a replacement would be forthcoming.

There was also an ex pastry chef, so the hotel was leaning heavily on the local bakery for desserts.

So many people these days had an attitude problem. The manager didn’t. He was nice.

“How in the world do you make a biscuit?” Mabel grumbled as she worked. “Honestly, I’m fifty, and I’ve spent twenty whole years trying to make one that didn’t bounce. And here you are, and you don’t even measure anything, and you make the most wonderful biscuits on earth!”

Essa laughed. “The secret is to watch someone make them, someone who knows how. The second trick is heat. It takes a very hot oven to cook biscuits properly.”

“Well!”

“I just love to . . .”

“Where the hell is my daughter?” a deep voice boomed.

“Oh, no, not again,” Essa wailed softly while Mabel gaped at her.

The big, blond barracuda was back. He stormed into the kitchen. “Where is she?”

“I have not seen your daughter, and this is not a public space. Out!” she raged, pointing to the door behind him.

He didn’t move.

“Out!” she repeated, “or I will have Jeff Ralston come right over and remove you forcibly! He’s our sheriff,” she added in a soft, deadly tone, “and he likes me.”

“I’ d need convincing, and I know who he is,” the man huffed. “Where is she?”

“I told you, I don’t know! I cook, I don’t babysit!”

He glared at her. “If you’re hiding her, I’ll have your head on a stick.”

“Good luck trying!”

He made another rough sound and left.

“Who was that?” Mabel asked, shocked.

“A man who has a sweet little girl, God help her. Imagine having a barracuda like that for a dad!” Essa grumbled.

“He sure is handsome.”

“So are sharks!”

Mabel hid a smile. Essa went back to work, too busy to brood about Mellie’s ill-mannered dad.

* * *

After the breakfast rush, Essa was leaving the kitchen when she spotted Mellie apparently being hotly lectured by her father. He pointed a finger at her and then walked out of the dining room.

Mellie sat there, depressed and near tears, picking at what was left of her bacon and eggs.

“Dear, dear,” Essa said softly as she paused by the table. “At it again, is he?”

Mellie looked up and her face brightened. “Oh! Hi!”

“Hi.”

Mellie made a face. “Daddy was looking for me and he couldn’t find me, so he got real mad. I was outside talking to this nice guy who was looking at rocks. He said he was hoping to find a fossil or something.”

“A fossil. Is he a paleontologist?” Essa wondered, interested.

“He says he’s in law enforcement,” came the reply. “He’s here for a forensic workshop. You know, blood spatter and reconstruction and trace element collection stuff. I wish I could go but Daddy won’t let me near it. He says I’m too young,” she huffed.

Essa chuckled. “That’s too bad. I’d love to go, too, but I have to work.”

“The nice man looking for fossils says he knows a place out of town where there are Native American ruins,” Mellie said excitedly.

“That I’d love to see.” Essa sighed. “I did a couple of courses in archaeology during summer semester at our community college.”

“He says he has a degree in ant . . . anthr . . .” She struggled for the word.

“Anthropology,” Essa said helpfully. “Archaeology is a sub-specialization of it. He must be very smart,” she added.

“He seems to be.” Mellie made a face. “Daddy has a degree in anthro . . . whatever it is, too. But he isn’t interested in going on digs. I am. I wish I could go look for artifacts. That man was nice. But Daddy always warns me about men.”

“My dad always warned me about them, too,” Essa replied. “He was a deputy sheriff, so I guess he knew a whole lot more than I did about life.”

“A deputy sheriff,” Mellie said, sighing. “Daddy used to be an FBI agent, but he said Mommy didn’t like him traveling all the time, and us having to move to new cities when he was transferred. She said it was like being in the army.”

FBI. Nice background , Essa thought, but she didn’t say it. Heaven forbid that it should get back to the blond barracuda that she found anything interesting about him.

“Oh, look, there he is,” Mellie said, nodding toward a slight man coming in the door.

“Well, my goodness.” Essa laughed. “And I was just talking to him last night!”

“Do you know him?” the child asked.

“Sort of.”

He’d spotted both of them meanwhile and came right to the table, smiling easily. “And here are my new friends,” he said in a soft, almost shy tone. “Essa, isn’t it?” he asked the older of the two. He smiled down at the child. “And you’re Mellie.”

“And you’re Dean Sutter,” Essa replied, watching the surprise and delight on his face when she remembered his name.

“You make me feel valuable,” Dean replied slowly. “I’m not used to people remembering me. I sort of fade into the background wherever I go.”

“Me, too,” Essa confessed. “I don’t mix well.”

“Same here,” he said heavily.

“He knows where ancient artifacts are!” Mellie said excitedly.

Essa’s eyes lit up. “So I heard!” She shook her head. “You must be one of those really brainy people if you know anthropology. I did two classes in archaeology and barely was able to pull a C. It’s hard!”

“Not if you love it, and I do,” he said. “My specialty is forensic anthropology. It’s a relatively new field, or it was when I took it up. Now it’s gaining popularity.”

“Wow,” Essa said, impressed.

Dean looked conflicted, but he smiled from ear to ear. “They were leveling ground for apartments over near Ralston when they found remains and called in anthropologists.”

“It’s freezing outside, and there’s snow . . .” Essa began.

He laughed. “Yes, but construction never ends, apparently. Anyway, I noted the digging and stopped to ask questions. They found human remains. That’s my specialty, so I helped with identification.”

“That was nice of you,” she said, smiling.

He flushed with pleasure. “Anyway, after the workshop tomorrow, if you might like to go with me, the ruins are probably Woodland period, nothing older than two thousand years . . .”

“I’d love to!” Essa said at once.

“Oh, I want to go, too,” Mellie wailed. “But Daddy would never let me!”

The blond barracuda had come up behind them unexpectedly, so that when he spoke, the woman and the girl both jumped.

“Go where? And for what?” he asked abruptly.