“You offered one to your father,” he says.
“Yeah, but I knew he wouldn’t accept. I know you will, therefore I’m not offering you one.”
Gramps shakes his head, his disappointment obvious.
The doorbell rings. I resist the urge to get up and scramble over to answer. I’m kicking myself when my delay allows Reed to hurry from the kitchen and open the door.
I’m on my feet before they’re inside, waiting for my first glimpse of my girl. I can’t hold back my smile as she steps into the entryway, unwinding her red scarf. Her cheeks are pink from the cold, and her green eyes are bright as they meet mine.
I step forward at the same time she does, and we embrace each other. She smells like fresh air and vanilla. I want to take her to my house and see if she tastes the same. I tamp downon the urge and release my hold on her. Turning, I shake Pops’ hand.
“Look at you, old man. Looking sharp.”
He runs his palm down his tie. “Thank you. Can’t let you young whippersnappers outdo me.” He shoves his coat into my hands and then goes over to say hi to my dad and Gramps.
“I’ll take yours too,” I say to Ginger, then hang them in the closet.
“Ginger made a pie for me,” Reed boasts, hugging it to his chest.
She snorts. “It’s for everyone.”
“I could’ve sworn you said it was for me.”
She shakes her head. “You’ll have to share.”
He ambles off toward the kitchen, sing-songing, “I can’t hear you.”
“He’s probably got a fork in hand already,” I tell her.
“I have another in the car just in case,” she says, winking.
I tap my head. “Smart and beautiful.”
“I’m more than my awesome baking skills.”
I nod in agreement. “I don’t need a reminder, G.”
“Let’s go say hi to everyone,” she suggests, wandering toward the kitchen.
It takes way too long to greet my brothers and Nina. My mother is always happy to see Ginger, and her face lights up with a genuine smile when she sees her. I’m sure she’s had enough of the testosterone overload that being the only female in our family guarantees.
“Reed tried to tell me the pie was for him, but I knew better,” Mom tells Ginger.
“I knew you’d handle it,” Ginger says. “You’re used to keeping these four in line.”
Mom nods. “I am, but I thought it would have gotten easier by now.”
“Aww, poor Mom.” Reed pats her on the back. “You have it so hard.” He reaches into his front pocket and then holds out his hand. “Here’s a tiny violin for you to play.”
She laughs, whacking his chest with a potholder. “Make yourself useful and carry some of this stuff to the table.”
Ginger immediately grabs a couple of bowls filled with vegetables while I carry the mashed potatoes and a basket of rolls. Nina and Travis jump right in to offer a hand, and after a couple of trips, everything is in place.
Mom announces, “Dinner’s ready.”
We never respond as promptly as we do when it’s meal time. In seconds, we’re all seated around the table. Ginger is on one side of me, and Drew is on the other.
I catch Reed’s attention across the table. “I’ve got something for you, bro.” I pull the edible packet out of my pocket and toss it over to him.
