Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
After a shower, I went downstairs to find the tree decorated and with the gifts the family had brought from home clustered around the base on the skirt. I was impressed they’d found all the stuff to trick it out.
“That looks awesome,” I announced to the room.
“Yeah?” Toby asked me, his eyes lighting up. “You like it?”
“I love it. You guys did a great job.”
“Dad did the star by stacking chairs ’cause we couldn’t find a ladder.”
I glanced at Brad, who was packing empty ornament boxes back into Rubbermaid tubs.
“It’s not as much of an OSHA violation as you’re thinking,” he told me.
“Sure,” I teased him.
“George, I made breakfast.” Thomasin gestured for me to come into the kitchen. “I hope you like biscuits and gravy.”
“I do,” I said, joining her.
“No, go sit down. I’ll fix your plate.”
I stopped moving and looked at her.
“What?” she asked, appearing unsure.
“I can make my own plate, Thom. You don’t need to serve me.”
Her face scrunched up like she was on the verge of tears. “George, you’ve done so much for my family, and I—”
“I would do it again in a heartbeat,” I assured her. “And you don’t owe me anything.”
She crossed her arms suddenly.
“Will you sit and talk to me while I eat?”
“I would love to,” she said with a sigh.
“Is there coffee?”
“Of course there’s coffee,” she said like I was nuts. “I could die without caffeine.”
I smiled at her and started making my plate.
“Oh, George,” she sounded so pleased. “I love that you’re eating my food.”
“Whenever Kurt cooks for me, it’s a treat. So is this.”
She nodded quickly.
“Cooking is something you do to show your family you love them, isn’t it?”
“Acts of service,” she told me. “That’s my love language.”
“I figured,” I said, still piling food on my plate, glancing over at her. “Don’t cry.”
“No. Absolutely not,” she said resolutely.
I grinned at her.
She poured me some coffee, then herself, and asked what I took in mine.
My squint made her laugh.
“Really? Black coffee?”
“We don’t get to carry vanilla creamer when we’re in the field,” I teased her. “You get used to things. No one I know has ever said, man, I wish we had some hazelnut syrup.”
That laugh of hers again—a good sound, deep, from her gut—made me smile. She got up then, or tried to.
“I thought we were talking.”
She sat back down quickly. “Oh, we are. I just—”
“You’re not used to sitting still.”
Quick breath. “No.”
“This is really good,” I said, taking another bite of biscuits covered in white sausage gravy. I had a patty as well and scrambled eggs. “Do you cook a lot?”
“I do. It’s one of the things I showcase on my Instagram. I do a lot of streaming on TikTok as well.”
“And you enjoy that?”
“Most of the time.”
“What would you be doing right now if nothing had happened?”
“We’d be getting ready to go caroling.”
“Sorry?”
“You would be sorry if you had to see it,” Dennis said, taking a seat beside me at the island. “Or go with us. It’s the worst.”
Thomasin turned to her son. “You don’t like caroling?”
“No,” he said flatly, leaning against my shoulder. “I hate it.”
“You hate it? I thought you loved singing in the choir.”
“I like singing with my friends at school, not with you and Dad for your YouTube channel, wearing those stupid outfits.”
“So stupid!” Toby called from the living room.
She looked stunned.
I started laughing.
“My outfit has a green-and-red jacket that’s long in the back,” Dennis explained. “And I have a sparkly top hat. I look like a total douche.”
I nearly spit out my food.
“Dennis Frederick Carr!”
“Frederick?” I teased him.
He just shook his head. “I know. That’s the worst too. And my uncle Fred is kind of a jerk too. He calls me champ all the time.”
“That’s nice, though, isn’t it?” I asked, trying to stop laughing.
“No. It’s lame.”
“I had no idea you hated caroling,” Thomasin told him, then looked at her husband. “Did you know?”
I saw him grimace, clear as day.
“You hate it too?”
“Hate is a strong word.”
They were killing me.
“What word would you use?” she asked him sharply.
He thought a moment. “Dislike intensely.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Brad, why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Because it makes you happy,” he said simply.
Her eyes filled suddenly, and I was reminded that she was overwrought. I dealt with life and death a lot. Most people did not. It was more than most could handle.
“You have to be honest with me,” she ordered her husband, then looked around the room. “All of you have to tell me when you hate things.”
“I don’t think I can say anything at the moment,” Brad confessed. “Not after everything I’ve done.”
She shook her head. “No. You explained everything last night. I know what happened, and let’s be honest, I knew things weren’t working out and that the houses weren’t selling as I’d hoped. I was fairly certain we were overextended, and I didn’t ask how you were taking care of that. I just let it go on.”