“Just a little Christmas magic,” Luna says, sweeping past us. “Come on, babe. We’re playing Garbage.”
“Holiday Garbage!” I call after her.
The tree is big and beautiful and smells of pine, the fire is roaring, logs crackling and popping in the hearth, and Bing Crosby is singing through the speakers somewhere in the room. We spread out in front of the fire and each take the right number of cards, then start the game. Since Luna has taught Rhys, Ruby, and Hamish how to play in the past, and I’ve taught Gavin, it goes fairly quickly.
We make it through three rounds before I break out of the eights into seven. Finally. Gavin is already on six.
There’s time. I can still pass him.
Hamish tells us about his farm and who’s running things with him gone. He doesn’t look nervous, but he certainly sounds uneasy.
“Who is running the pub for you, Rhys?” Gavin asks.
“We hired a girl, Nikki, to help in the kitchen so I would be able to take more time off, and she’s taking over this entire week. I thought we should close, but she wants to try and manage the place on her own.”
Luna reaches for his arm and gives it a squeeze. “It was hard to leave, but the pub’s in good hands. Nikki has a level head. If she can’t manage it, she’ll tell us.”
Rhys doesn’t look as confident. He draws an ace, places it in his set, and discards the five that was sitting there. “I’m out.”
Luna yawns. “I think I’moutout.”
“No, we have like four more rounds,” I say. “You can’t quit now.”
“You know Mom will want to play when she gets here. I can’t stay awake any longer, Cal.”
“Same.” Rhys gathers his cards and puts them in the discard pile. “I’m done in.”
Hamish and Ruby join them. When I look at Gavin, he hasn’t moved.
“I’ll play a few more rounds with you,” he says.
I happen to know how tired this man is. His offer is as sweet as it is enticing. But that glint in his eyes proves he’s doing it to win just as much as I am. This isn’t an altruistic move on his part.
Luna is overjoyed by this turn of events, almost to the point of me wanting to go to bed myself. But I want to win this question and find out what the deal is with Gavin and his parents. If they’re going to be in this house with us for the next week and a half, I feel I should be prepared.
Everyone tells us good night and heads upstairs while I shuffle the cards and deal a new hand. “Today was a good day. Trees, snowmen, Patty, shortbread, good soup. I’m not sure what more I could possibly want.”
“Note to self: the key to Callie’s heart is quality time.”
“And good food.”
“Well, naturally.”
“What’s the key to Gavin’s heart?” I ask.
“Just turning up.”
My hand misses the pile and comes down hard on the floor. “I don’t remember that being one of the love languages.”
He shoots me a self-deprecating smile and takes the bent card from my hand to smooth out the crease. “It’s probably more of a trauma response.”
“Gavin—”
“No, I shouldn’t have said anything. You haven’t won yet.”
“Then I’ll owe you one,” I say.
“Assuming you’re going to win…”
