Page 41 of Family Bonds- Kelsey & Van

He held her stare and just nodded his head. Sometimes no words were needed.

He got up and walked out of the room so she followed after she snatched up their two paper plates.

The second half of the pizza was still on the counter.

“Want anymore of this?” he asked. “Or something else? I’ve got a shit ton of snacks.”

“I happen to love snacks. More so the shit ton kind.”

He shut one eye at her and grabbed the pizza box and just tossed it in the fridge. She was going to ask if maybe he wanted to wrap it up and kept the comment to herself.

“Here are your choices for a night on the deck and then we can find the wine that might pair with it. Unless you want that scotch? There is whiskey too.”

She’d seen the bottles of it displayed in the office they’d been in. Some that she enjoyed and that her father drank.

“Wine sounds lovely,” she said primly.

She followed through the kitchen where he opened the pantry and she burst out laughing. It looked as if it was the snack aisle in the store.

She grabbed pretzels and salt and vinegar chips, then she’d put them on the counter.

He moved to a door off of the kitchen. When they went into the basement she realized it was completely finished.

It was a teenage boy's wet dream down here.

Huge bar in the corner, massive TV mounted on the wall, leather furniture around it.

They moved past that room to a hall and she popped her head into a theater room.

She’d had no idea Barry was like this.

“I don’t think he ever used this space,” Van said as if he read her mind.

More and more she started to think that this house was done and staged for a bachelor grandson in the hopes of making up for not being in his life.

No way she’d give her opinion right now.

When they got to the end of the hall, she’d seen another bedroom and a bath.

“Now this is what I’m talking about,” she said when she saw the wine room. It was stunning.

There were beautifully carved walls of wood shelving on three walls. Lots of empty spaces, but there were easily over a hundred bottles of wine here.

Each bottle was displayed in a slot for her to see the labels.

She soon realized they were organized by type.

“I know very little about wine,” he said. “This is all you.”

“This Chardonnay will work,” she said. “Don’t feel as if you have to drink it with me.”

“I don’t plan on it,” he said.

“Well then,” she said, tongue in cheek.

He pulled the bottle out of her hand. “I wonder if good old Gramps was an alcoholic.”

“No,” she said. “He’d have an occasional glass of whiskey or scotch with my father when he came for a holiday or they were celebrating something. Nothing more.”

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