Page 70 of Booked for the Holidays
“Christ,” I groan. “I’m going to have a heart attack when you go to high school. Did you set the table?”
“Plates and silverware are out.”
“How about filling the glasses with water?”
“Dad. I did everything you asked. It’s more fun to watch you act like an idiot.”
“I amnotacting like an idiot,” I sputter. Heat floods my cheeks and I fiddle with my glasses, pushing them up the bridge of my nose.
“You kind of are,” Mac whispers. She pokes my ribs and walks over to the table, leaving me alone.
The kid is way too observant for her own good. I grumble under my breath and head for the stove, turning on a burner for the potatoes. Footsteps approach me from behind. The familiar scents of cinnamon and vanilla tickle my nose. Hips graze mine, fitting beside me in the small nook of space perfectly.
“Hey,” Bridget says. Her eyes sparkle in the light, a melody of color. “Potatoes are ready.”
“That was quick.”
“Double the hands. Makes it a little easier.”
“Can you drop them in for me?”
She tips the cutting board toward the pot, chopped pieces falling into the water. “What else can I help with?”
“Nothing. My dad finished the turkey. The potatoes are going. I’m starting the stuffing now and it should be done soon. We’re close.”
She spins, back resting against the counter so she can look around the kitchen. “How long have your parents lived here?”
“It was a wedding present from my dad’s parents. They moved down the road so Mom and Dad could start their life here.”
“And you’re an only child?”
“Yeah. What about you? A brother and sister, right?”
“I’m the middle child. My sister is three years older. She’s a doctor and lives thirty minutes away with her husband. My brother is a year younger than me and is a teacher. He just moved back into town. God, him and Lucy always butt heads. It’s kind of fun to watch. She’s part of our family at this point, we’ve known each other for so long. Chandler, too.”
“And your parents?”
“Not far from here. I’m born and raised in Park Cove. Left for college, and then I came back. Our city has a charm. I know I complain about the weather and the never-ending cycle of heat, then hurricanes, then more heat, but I’m not sure I’d want to live anywhere else.”
“I know what you mean. I’m the same way. This is home. I like that the town is small, and there’s still plenty of stuff to do.”
“If you could live anywhere else, where would it be?” Bridget asks.
“Probably in the mountains somewhere. A cabin in the woods, miles away from civilization. I’d be happy there.”
“That sounds right up my alley. If that ever happens, I’ll be looking for my invite.”
I smile and nudge her shoulder. “You’d definitely be welcome. No invite needed.”
* * *
“Bridget,you’ll have to indulge us for a minute. Every year on Thanksgiving we go around and say what we’re thankful for,” says my mom before we dig into the food. “You’re more than welcome to join, but please don’t feel obligated.”
“Oh, I love this idea,” Bridget says, smiling brightly. “I’d love to join in.”
“Wonderful! This year I’m grateful for advancements in medicine and the wonderful staff at Park Cove Hospital,” Mom starts.
“I’m thankful for digital meat thermometers,” Dad says. “They’re far more accurate than the other kind.”
