Part 32 (2/2)
on a screaming piggyback ride through the house.
Afterward her father had carved a big Christmas goose. When gluttony
had made her sleepy, she had curled up in front of the fire and had
listened to the music.
It had been the best day of her life. The very best. Until this one.
The sound of a car roused her. Pressing her face against the window
again she peered out. With a screech, she leaped off the seat.
”Johnno! Johnno! They're here.” She went flying down the hallway, her
shoes clattering on the wood floor that had been painstakingly
refinished and polished.
”Hold on.” Johnno stopped scribbling the lyrics that had been playing in
his head to catch her on the run. ”Who's here?”
”My Dad and Bev and my baby.”
”Your baby, is it?” He tugged on her nose, then turned to Stevie
who was experimenting with chords at the piano. ”Shall we go welcome
the newest McAvoy?”
”Be right along.”
”I'm coming.” P.M. stuffed the last of a tea cake into his mouth before
he rose from the floor. ”Wonder if they managed to get out of the
hospital without being mobbed.”
”The precautions Pete took makes James Bond look like a piker. TWo decoy
limos, twenty burly guards, and the final escape in a florist truck.”
With a laugh, he started down the hall with Emma in tow. ”Fame makes
beggars of us, Emma luy, and don't you forget.”
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