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“And Johnny Depp, am I right?” Stella said, grinning.

“Amen,” Luci said.

“Doesn’t Vianne say she puts chili peppers in the hot chocolate to give a person a lift?” I asked.

Both women stared at me.

“What? It’s a good movie?” I grinned, feeling somewhat sheepish. “I remember details that matter, like dessert recipes.”

“She does say that, but I’ve not tried it in our version,” Stella said. “But should we? Would that be fun?”

“No way,” Luci said. “I don’t want anything spicy in my hot chocolate.”

“Plus, we want to taste Jasper’s recipe,” I said.

“All right then, have a seat,” Stella said. “Pretend you’re eight years old.”

“That’s not hard,” I said, taking a stool.

Luci slid onto the stool beside me, both of us with our elbows on the top of the wood block island, watching Mama Moon treat us as if we were her own kids. She worked at the stove with her back to us, warming milk and cream, shaving a block of dark chocolate into the pan. “We don’t use powder in the Moon family. My husband loves his hot cocoa rich and creamy. I don’t let him have it too often, but I figure it won’t kill him to have a treat every once in awhile.” She looked over at Luci. “What was your favorite Christmas treat when you were a kid?”

Luci’s face lit up. “My mom made these blackberry jam crumble bars. Jack, Rhett, Holly, and I would pick blackberries on the sides of the road in August and bring home buckets full of them and the scratches on our arms to prove we did the work ourselves. Our mom would make jam from the berries and come Christmas she’d use it to make crumble bars. Nothing ever tasted as good to me as that dish. I used to ask for it for my birthday instead of a cake.”

“That sounds delicious,” Stella said. “Washington state has wonderful blackberries.”

“If it’s warm enough to get them fully ripe,” Luci said. “There were a few summers where they were kind of tart. Mom just added more sugar, though, so it was fine.”

“What about you, Grant?” Stella poured three mugs, topped each with a mountain of whipped cream, and set them down in front of us.

“I didn’t have sugar growing up. At least not at home. My dad was very strict about our diet.”

“Well, that was probably his way of showing love,” Stella said.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said. “But it made me feel different from everyone else. Sugar free pudding for my birthday, for example.”

“Yuck. How awful,” Luci said.

“I would have given a lot for one of your mama’s blackberry bars,” I said.

I wrapped both hands around my mug and drank. It was incredible, thick and dark and barely sweet. My father would shudder to see me enjoying this much but, fortunately, he wasn’t here. “This is delicious.”

“Beyond,” Luci said, nodding.

“Did your folks mind you wouldn’t be home for the holidays this year?” Stella asked me.

“I don’t go home for the holidays. Not anymore.” A dull ache started in my chest, the way it did when I thought of home. “Usually I spend it with friends. I rotate so no one gets tired of me showing up for holiday dinners.”

“That’s kind of sad,” Luci said softly. “But you’re always welcome to our family’s holiday meals. My mom goes over the top, probably because she didn’t have money for so long and she can buy whatever ingredients she wants.”

“Kind of you,” I said. “But I don’t like to intrude too often.”

“You should intrude any time you want,” Luci said, gazing into her mug.

I looked up to see Stella watching us, a glint in her eyes. What did she see when she saw us together? Was it obvious I was head over heels for my best friend’s sister?

“It’s not intrusion when it’s a real friend,” Stella said. “Seems to me you boys are family.”

“We are,” I said. “Jack and the others probably saved my life.”