Page 36 of The Snuggle is Real
“We can have dinner earlier next time. What time did you eat with your mom?”
Charlie shrugged. “I don’t know. I think it was all different times.”
Huh. Was LuAnne being erratic or did Charlie just not pay attention? She was only seven. Either could be true.
“Well, how about we eat at 6:30 from now on. Does that sound good?”
Charlie nodded since her mouth was full again. Well, at least she wasn’t one of those picky kids who barely touched their food.
The doorbell rang just as we were finishing up.
“I’ll get it!” Charlie said, hopping from her seat at the table and racing to the door.
“Charlie! Wait?—”
She swung open the door without even asking who it was. I added one more deficit in the LuAnne parenting column.
“Hey, Charlie,” Mason said. “How are you tonight?”
“Hi, Mason! We were just eating some mac-and-cheese!”
“Oh, that sounds fantastic,” Mason said. “Ilovemac-and-cheese.”
I snorted as I came up behind Charlie. Mason certainly put on a good show of looking amazed by my rudimentary dinner.
His lips stretched in a smile almost too wide for his face, his freckles popping under the porch lights.
A thick knitted scarf—looking awfully similar to some of the ones Dottie and her friends made—wound around his neck above a purple wool coat.
I didn’t see many men in purple, but Mason pulled it off.
He was also shivering.
I stepped back. “Come in from the cold.”
“Thanks.” He wiped his feet on the welcome mat and stepped inside. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner.”
“Don’t worry about it. We were pretty much done.” My gaze dropped to the basket in his hands. “What have you got there?”
“Christmas cookies,” Mason said, thrusting the basket into my hands. “Plus, a decorating kit. While we were at the parade, you mentioned you used to do them with your mom as a kid.”
“Oh.” I looked into the basket, spotting a dozen cookies shaped like Christmas trees, stars, and snowmen, plus tubes of frosting and jars of sprinkles. “Well, you didn’t need to do this. I mean, this is hardly something weneed.”
I pushed the basket back toward him.
Mason tucked his hands behind his back, refusing to take it. “They were donated by Ginger’s Breads. They’ll just go to waste if you don’t accept them.”
“Can we, Ford?” Charlie asked, going up on her tiptoes to peek in the basket. “I want a cookie!”
“Itisjust in time for dessert,” Mason teased.
“Please, Ford?” Charlie asked, big brown eyes gazing at me hopefully. “We can all decorate cookies together!”
Mason stammered, color rising in his cheeks. “Oh, I didn’t mean— That is, this isn’t for me. I’m just the delivery guy. Like Santa.”
“You don’t look much like Santa,” Charlie pointed out.
He chuckled. “You’re right. His elf then. I wear green really well.”
