Page 36 of Sweet Home

“Oh, I’m fine,” she told him. “Hot chocolate is perfect.”

She honestly could have eaten, even though this morning West had made them a mountain of bacon and eggs and toast with homemade breadhis mom had dropped off. Dulcie had never eaten better than she had since arriving in this magical town. It almost felt like West was trying to fatten her up like a Christmas goose.

Tara stopped back a few minutes later, handed Elizabeth a coloring book and a box of crayons, and took their order for three hot chocolates.

“What are you eating, Dulcie?” West asked sternly.

“I’m fine,” she told him, handing Tara the menu.

“We’ll take a chicken salad bowl,” West told Tara. “And a plate of your cheese fries for the table.”

“Yes, sir,” Tara told him.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Dulcie told him.

“I like supporting Tara’s business,” he said, shrugging. “She’s new around here.”

“Really?” Dulcie asked, looking around. The place certainly didn’t look brand new.

“I’d say she’s been here five years or so,” West said, nodding. “Nice girl, just the kind of flatlander we like around here.”

“Flatlander?” Dulcie echoed.

“Apologies,” West said frowning and glancing at Elizabeth, who was coloring happily in her book. “I guess it’s not the friendliest term.”

“What does it mean?” Dulcie asked.

“A flatlander is someone new to town,” he said, shrugging. “Someone who isn’t from Vermont.”

“But you said she’s lived here forfive years?” Dulcie asked. “That’s new?”

“Most people in town have had family here for generations,” West said with a wry smile. “Though we’ve hadmore newcomers lately. I guess people everywhere are hearing about all the fresh air and pretty views.”

“They’re not wrong,” Dulcie said. “And thefood.”

He chuckled and she felt her cheeks heat a little, so she focused on Elizabeth’s coloring book.

“You chose a picture of a gingerbread house to color,” Dulcie said.

“I like gingerbread,” Elizabeth said, rubbing her brown crayon industriously along one wall of the house.

“Me too,” Dulcie told her.

“What are you guys doing here?” a familiar voice called out.

Dulcie turned to see one of West’s brothers approaching.

“Uncle Tripp,” Elizabeth said happily, placing down her crayon and running over so he could swing her up in his arms.

“Hey there, kiddo,” Tripp said. “You’re not going to compete in the snowball fight with your cousins?”

“No,” she laughed.

“Let me guess,” Tripp said. “You’re chicken?”

“No,” she said.

“You’re allergic to snow?” he guessed next.

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