Free Christmas at the Hummingbird House by Donna Ball Page A

more than once. But his smile was good and his grip solid.  It was, in fact, perhaps a little too solid, and Paul had to flex his fingers when they were released.
    Paul said, “I’m Paul Slater, and this is …”  He glanced behind him for his partner, who reluctantly came forward. “Derrick Anderson.  We’re the proprietors of the Hummingbird House.  Do you have a reservation, by chance?”
    “I do not,” admitted the stranger.  “What I do have is a strong back and a willing pair of hands.  And while I see you’re fully staffed in the lawn maintenance department …”  He glanced with a twinkling eye toward the twins, who stood staring with the rake clutched between them.  “I wonder if you might have need for a helping hand here and there about the place, it being the holiday season and all.”
    Paul drew a delighted breath to reply but was stopped by a hard tug on the hem of his sweater.  He glanced back to meet Purline’s white-eyed gaze, motioning him back inside the house with an exaggerated jerk of her chin.  He returned an uneasy smile to the stranger and said, “Just one moment, please.”
    He stepped back into the kitchen without completely closing the door, and Purline hissed, “Are you crazy?  You’re not going to take a complete stranger in this house without knowing a thing about him!”
    “Actually,” Derrick pointed out a little timidly, “that’s kind of what we do.”
    “Nobody just rides up to a house and asks for work,” Purline went on, ignoring Derrick, “not in this day and age.  He’s probably staking out the place right this minute.  He could be a serial killer or worse!”
    “What’s worse than a serial killer?” Paul said.
    “He’s not even from around here,” Purline said.  “Just ask him if he’s got references.  Just ask him.”
    “We didn’t ask you for references,” Paul pointed out.
    She scowled.  “That’s different.”
    “How?”
    “Because if you’d’ve asked, I would’ve had them!”
    “And come to think of it,” Paul added, “ you just walked in one day and asked for work.”
    Her scowl grew fiercer.  “Now you listen here to me …”
    “Oh my goodness,” Derrick said softly.  Sudden, delighted understanding dawned in his eyes.  “Harmony!”
    Purline broke off and both she and Paul turned to Derrick, looking confused.  Then Paul’s face broke into a delighted smile.  “Harmony’s surprise!”
    Paul turned to Purline and gave her arm a reassuring pat.  “Not to worry, my dear.  He has references.  Harmony sent him!”
    Purline did not look in the least reassured as Paul and Derrick went back out onto the porch.
    “Mister, um …” Paul faltered, and the stranger stepped forward, smiling.
    “Michael,” he said.  “Call me Mick.”
    “Wonderful,” Paul said, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction. “Mr. Michaels, we’re delighted you’re here.”
    “Delighted,” parroted Derrick, although he couldn’t help looking at the traces of ink that peeked from beneath the wrists of the leather jacket.
    “We find ourselves a bit behind with our holiday chores,” Paul went on, “and the truth is …”  He glanced at Derrick.  “Well, our talents really don’t lie in the area of manual labor.”
    “Fortunately,” replied Mick cheerfully, “mine do. And I think it’s very important for everyone to do what they’re suited for.”
    Derrick brightened. “I was saying that only a moment ago! You are a godsend, Mr. Michaels!”  He grabbed the other man’s hand and pumped it enthusiastically.
    “Please,” replied the stranger, smiling, “it’s Mick.”
    “All right then.”  Derrick stepped back, beaming.  “Mick, welcome to the Hummingbird House.”  Then, “What do you know about hanging Christmas lights?”
    “Whatever you need me to,” Mick assured him, and Paul and Derrick exchanged a triumphant look.
    “Welcome aboard, Mick,” Paul declared, opening the door wide for him.