Mistletoe Magic by Fern Michaels (5)

At one minute past eight, Melanie dialed the number for World Adoption Agency. They opened at 8:00 A.M. according to their Web site and were open on Saturdays. It was meant to be, she figured, because it was Saturday, and she had absolutely nothing planned.

She wasn’t going to waste another minute worrying about the timing of her phone call. Her mother always told her the early bird catches the worm. She’d been unable to sleep last night as thoughts of adopting a child filled her brain. Finally, around four in the morning, she’d given up all hope of sleeping, took a long, hot shower, and dressed in her old denim jeans and her favorite University of Colorado sweatshirt. She’d taken Odie for a short walk throughout the complex.

Impatient now that she’d decided to act on what she thought of as her newly budding motherly instinct, she didn’t bother with the greenway behind the condos. Odie knew something was awry when she rushed him through his morning routine. He barked as though he were asking what did she think she was doing, then dropped his head to his chest.

“I promise we’ll take an extra-long walk later,” she told him. That had seemed to cheer the boxer up.

Back inside, Melanie made bacon and eggs for breakfast, giving half to Clovis and Odie. After she cleaned up, she stripped the sheets from her bed, tossed them in the washing machine, and mopped the kitchen floor. When she couldn’t find anything else to distract her, she’d taken Amanda and Ashley’s knitting needles from the baskets she’d given them. She removed several knots, rewound yarn, then tucked the beginner’s instruction booklets neatly beside the balls of red and green yarn. On the verge of climbing the walls, Melanie brewed another pot of coffee and sat at the kitchen table watching as the hands on the clock turned more slowly than they ever had. Or so it seemed.

And now that she had made the call, all she heard on the other end of the phone was an answering machine asking her to please leave her name and number, and they would return her call as soon as it was convenient. How dare they do this to her!

Melanie wanted to scream. This was ridiculous. There are hundreds of children just waiting for a home, and she’s told to wait! Maybe she’d picked the wrong agency. If she owned such a business, if one even wanted to call an orphanage a business, she would make sure she never missed an opportunity to place a child. Deciding she would search for another agency, Melanie practically ran to her office.

The ringing telephone stopped her dead in her tracks.

The kitchen or the office? She was in the middle. The kitchen. She raced the few feet back to the kitchen, and grabbed the phone. Exhaling, she spoke into the receiver. “Hello?”

A heavily accented voice said, “I am returning your phone call.”

Without asking, Melanie knew this was the adoption agency.

“Uh, yes, I called. I wanted to . . . I was thinking of adopting—”

“Madam, that is why most people call us.”

“Oh, well, of course.” Now that she had the agency on the phone, she was suddenly at a loss for words.

“Miss,” the woman with the accent said. “I am a very busy woman. You called the agency, I am to assume that there was a reason.”

It took Melanie a second to recover. “Yes, I would like to know what the procedure is for adopting a child.”

There, she’d said it; she couldn’t take it back now!

Melanie heard the woman’s sharp intake of breath. “This is not the way we practice. You must schedule an appointment with the office first. If we decide to consider your application, then you will be given the proper instructions.”

Melanie visualized the woman on the phone. Tall, stern, with waist-length hair pulled back in a tight bun. She thought of the children in her care. She decided to act quickly.

“Then I would like to make an appointment as soon as possible.”

Another deep sigh, then the fluttering of paper. Melanie wondered if the woman was actually looking at an old-fashioned appointment book. Had computers not made their way to the adoption agency?

“You are in luck,” the woman said. “We have an opening in the morning on Monday. Nine o’clock sharp. We do not tolerate tardiness.”

Melanie’s eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. She couldn’t believe the way the woman spoke to her. She wasn’t a two-year-old. She wanted to tell her that, but bit her tongue. Now wasn’t the time to be a smart aleck. Briefly, she had the passing thought—if she was so punctual, why didn’t she answer the phone at eight o’clock sharp?

“Of course not. I will be there promptly at nine.”

“Of course you will,” the woman admonished. “I will need some information from you first.”

Melanie was on the phone for the next few minutes, giving the woman, who hadn’t bothered to give her name, all the pertinent information one would need to run for president of the United States. When she hung up, it took a couple of minutes for Melanie to reacquaint herself with her surroundings. She was home in Placerville, in her kitchen. Images of prison camps kept flashing before her eyes. Those poor children!

The woman reminded her of a female version of Scrooge. Wired from too much caffeine, Melanie decided it was a good time to take Odie for that promised extra-long walk. The cold morning air would clear her head, plus she could burn off all her excess energy.

“Odie, let’s go take that walk I promised you,” she said as she grabbed her jacket from the front closet and removed his leash from a hook on the back of the front door. Upon hearing his name, Odie came running from his spot underneath the kitchen table before sliding to a stop in order for her to attach the leash to his collar. When all was in order, he jumped in circles, practically dragging her out the front door. Clovis remained perched on the windowsill in the living room, his nose in the air, apparently content to watch.

Melanie pushed the door aside and was greeted by an icy gust of frosty air. She drew in a sharp breath. It was much colder than yesterday. Even colder than it had been a few hours ago. Single-digit temperatures were predicted for the day’s high.

The condo’s greenway provided twelve miles of biking trails and hiking paths to satisfy all of the residents living at Pine Ridge Condominiums. As Melanie carefully wound her way down the main trail, she saw that the picnic tables were covered with a thin sheet of ice, and the dog pond that Odie loved to visit in the summer months was completely frozen over.

Once inside the off-leash area, Melanie unhooked Odie’s leash, and he ran freely. Often they would see coyotes and the occasional fox, and Odie would go berserk upon catching their scent. Apparently the cold weather hadn’t kept the wild animals away from the area, because Odie had his nose to the frozen ground, sniffing ninety miles a minute.

Melanie allowed Odie a few more minutes to do his business before calling to him. “Okay, bud, let’s take that walk I promised.” The dog would’ve been content to stay in the off-leash area, but Melanie knew from experience that if she let him stay too long, it would take forever to guide him back to the hiking path.

Several inches of thick-crusted snow flanked the path leading to her preferred route. Expertly, Melanie and Odie ascended the icy mound leading to her favorite trail, where in the fall one could view a pumpkin farm along the hillside. Spring green vines dotted the mountain in late summer, after which the hillside became infused with varying shades of orange in the fall. It never failed to take her breath away. Even in the stark bareness of late fall, Melanie could appreciate the Colorado beauty. Tall pines scented the chilled air, and she detected a faint hint of wood smoke. Briefly, she had a flash of herself running through the pumpkin fields with two small children at her side.

Not wanting to get her hopes up, she’d tried to close her mind to this morning’s earlier conversation with the woman from the adoption agency. The possibility of one child more than excited her, but two? She allowed herself to imagine her life with two children. If the opportunity arose, she wouldn’t deny herself or the children. She’d taken care of Amanda and Ashley quite well if you excluded their getting lost on the mountain last year. The image cut off further thought. What if the woman from the adoption agency asked for a reference? What if Stephanie told the woman that she wasn’t ready for a child of her own? What if . . . what if . . . what if? Melanie knew her life would be closely scrutinized, she’d learned that much on her Web search.

Could one innocent mistake ruin her future chances at adoption?

Resigned that she might have to give up her dream of adopting a child, Melanie led Odie toward the condo. Maybe she’d just call and cancel Monday’s appointment.

Maybe.

Melanie was not a quitter.

She’d cross that bridge Monday morning. Nine o’clock sharp.