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“Sit, sit.” She motioned to him. “Tell me what’s going on in Texas. I haven’t talked to your mother in a while.”
Cole and I sat for an hour recounting our new life together in South Padre while Mr. Turnwell brought us cookies and drinks and Miss Peg asked a hundred questions. After the third time she yawned I thought we should probably head home. I stood to leave.
“Before we go we were wondering if we could help with your luminaries tonight.”
Mr. Turnwell looked at the floor. “Oh, I can do it, Kaitlyn. Don’t worry.”
“But we’d like to.” I urged. I didn’t want him to be embarrassed. They had a lot on their plate.
Cole stepped forward. “Sir, I asked Kaitlyn if I could help her this year and it would be great if we had a few extra bags in the assembly line so I can really get indoctrinated into the neighborhood traditions.”
A smile spread across Mr. Turnwell’s face. “I see. I see. Well, sure. We’d be happy to have the help and break you into the neighborhood. I’ve got everything in the garage, just haven’t started putting them together.”
“Merry Christmas, Kaitlyn.” Miss Peg called. “Thanks for the visit.”
I leaned to kiss her soft cheek. “Merry Christmas.”
Cole and I walked back home, his arms loaded with bags of sand and mine with tea light candles and white paper bags.
“You think that will be us?” Cole asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. It was just something about them that made me think about growing old with you.”
I smiled. “I need to tell you about my—” I stopped before I could mention the babies.
Ryan was on the other side of the street holding a shovel. Grayson was next to him. “I brought reinforcements.”
“Great.” I smiled.
Grayson was already flinging sand everywhere. Cole tried to show him how to use the small shovel.
After the last scoop of sand was poured into the bag and the last candle dropped inside, we placed the luminaries in my old red wagon and wheeled them down the driveway.
Cole started the row near the mailbox and eyeballed the measurements, making sure they were equal distance apart.
“Not bad for a newbie.” I laughed.
He was studying the alignment, his brow furrowed. “I need to move a few.” He squatted next to the curb and rearranged the bags.
“They’re fine. They’re more than fine. I think they are perfect.”
I could tell he wasn’t satisfied. I guess I was lucky he didn’t bring a tape measure from the garage and mark off the inches.
I turned toward the Turnwells. “Ok, now this side of the street.”
He wheeled the wagon over the asphalt and started a neat line of the paper bags. It looked like he was even more determined this time to make sure they were the right distance from each other. It didn’t help that every time he put one down Grayson tried to pick it back up.
When he was finished, we stood back and surveyed the rows.
“Wait until we light them. You’re going to love it.” I looked up at him.
“Oh, I want to do that part.”
“I should have guessed. It’s the fire thing, right? Anything with fire?”
He chuckled. “You know me so well.”
