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“You mean it’s as though we’re sending them off to the prom?”
Ethan gave a low chuckle and kissed her ear. He released her and opened the truck door. “Go on in, when you’re ready,” he told Zig. “Tom’s already in there sorting out the tree.”
“Ooh,” said Tracy, her voice filled with excitement. “There’s a tree?”
“Of course,” said Ethan. He bent down in the truck and pulled out a storage container. “Is this the right one?”
Kate laughed. “They’re all the right one. Just hand me that one and pick up the other two that should be there.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” said Ethan. A few moments later they were entering the cabin and saw that Zig and Tracy had taken off their coats, and Zig’s bag was resting on the kitchen counter. Zig unpacked it, and Kate saw that it was various wines and a bottle of whiskey.
Zig held up a small foil package to Kate. “I brought this stuff for you to make mulled wine.”
Kate lifted her brows. “For me to make?”
Zig shrugged and grinned. “I don’t have a clue. And well, you know your way around this kitchen pretty well by now, I assume.”
She opened her mouth to utter an outrage and closed it a moment later, settling for a shake of the head. Better to let that pass. And besides, she found she actually liked the idea that she and Ethan shared a space.
“Don’t worry,” Ethan said, coming up behind Kate, the storage containers safely deposited on the kitchen table. “I won’t hold you to that.” He picked up the package and skimmed the directions printed on it. “I’ll do it if you like.”
She laughed and took the packet from him. “I’m not complaining.”
Tom called from the living area. “Okay, folks. Tree is officially in place.”
Tracy, clapped and lifted her phone, taking a picture while Kate gave her a bemused look. “Are you an avid Instagrammer?”
Tracy laughed. “Um, actually I do a TikTok collage reel several times a week. I just love putting it together. My week, and all that. I also do one for gamers. Talk about levels, characters, that kind of thing. But I sometimes still post on Instagram.”
Kate looked at her in disbelief. All of that seemed so foreign to her. A website, that was where she’d left her skills last. Maybe she should do some Instagram for Tom? She couldn’t imagine doing it for her own work, but she should probably consider it.
She moved over to Ethan, who was opening one of the storage containers. “Do you do any of that stuff?” she asked in a low voice.
He looked up. “What? Instagram and TikTok?” He gave a shudder. “God no. I don’t do social media.”
“Do you have a website, though? For your music and songwriting.”
He gave her a guarded look. “No. No, I haven’t found it necessary. At least not yet.”
“But you’re writing your novel. Don’t you need a platform for that?”
“Come on guys,” said Tom. “Enough canoodling in the corner, let’s get started.”
“First things, first,” said Zig. He moved over to the cabinets and pulled down several drink glasses from the top cabinet over the refrigerator. “We need to fortify ourselves before we do anything else.”
Thirty-Eight
Kate looked up at the tree from the living area floor. The tree was half-decorated, but already its festive air lifted the room from temporary housing to a home. Garlands, lights, and ornaments all fought for attention, and though she knew it looked overdone, she didn’t care. Tom, red-faced from his exertion hanging lights around the edge of the window frame, seemed to be enjoying himself, a fact helped by the few glasses of wine and a tumbler of whiskey he’d drunk after Zig had offered to drop him off at his place.
The mulled wine Kate had made had disappeared, the food had been consumed, and somehow decorations had been unpacked and hung with a lighthearted manner. Now, Ethan reached in and pulled out a painted blue clay blob sprinkled with glitter with a deep depression in the center. He set it on the coffee table and started to laugh. Tom jumped down from the chair, his last string of lights in place, looked at the clay object, and joined Ethan.
“What in the name of Christmas and the elves is that?” Ethan asked.
Tom only laughed harder. Zig looked up from the snow globe he was playing with and joined the other two. Tracy, tucked in the corner near the sofa, had started looking through the pile of Ethan’s albums shoved aside earlier, looked up, and scrunched up her face.
“Wow,” she said. “That is seriously ugly.”
Kate swept up the clay object into her arms. “Stop. You’re mocking true art.”
