Helen joined the fray, doling out hot cocoa covered in whipped cream. Harold, Mona, and the kids nestled into the booth, eager for the celebration to continue. “Here you go, little man.” Helen slid an oversized mug covered in marshmallows and chocolate shavings. “I hear you’re the next Laurence Olivier.”
“Who?” the boy asked, scrunching up his nose.
“Seriously?” Harold asked his grandson.
Monatsked. “Next time you’re over at our house, we’re watchingHamletor maybeWuthering Heights.”
“Good luck with that,” Max said, joining his family. “If it’s black and white, these two aren’t giving it the time of day.”
Josie nodded. “No offense, Gram, but this looks terrible.” She scrolled through the actor’s page on the IMDB app, scowling the longer she read.
Henry craned his neck to see, quickly agreeing with his sister. “Yeah, nope.”
Helen snorted. “Sorry I brought it up.”
Evan interrupted, pushing the plate of bacon toward Henry. “So other than a stack of bacon, what can I get everyone?”
Thirty minutes later, the table was covered in a variety of options. Evan and CeCe made everything family-style, piling platters and bowls with everyone’s favorites. Max flipped theClosedsign a little early so they could take over the diner in peace.
“Aunt CeCe,” Henry said from his spot in the booth. He’d inhaled two cheeseburgers and enough bacon to warrant a cholesterol statin. “Can I ride around on that thing when you’re done?” He pointed to her vacated office chair.
“No,” Max said as CeCe said, “Only if your dad isn’t watching.”
Ginny, Mona, and Evan cleaned up while Harold pushed Henry and Josie back and forth in the office chair. Max loaded the dishwasher, closing the lid with a satisfying click. “All set.”
Mona held her phone up triumphantly. “Look, the Weather Channel app says it’ll be sunny on Christmas Eve.”
Evan draped CeCe’s coat over her shoulders before patting her belly gently. “Were they calling for snow?”
Max scoffed. “Mrs. Sanders and her crew are apparently blaming their aging bodies on the blizzard of the century.”
CeCe frowned. “I’m glad it’s not going to be bad. Evan’s parents are traveling to Indiana to see his sister, and that would be a slog. We have enough on our minds without worrying about their travel.”
Evan’s eyes pinched, pulling CeCe closer to his frame. “I’m with CeCe—I hope this is nothing.”
Harold took Mona’s hand and stepped outside, bracing against the nighttime chill. “Do I need to remind everyone that the Weather Channel isn’t calling for anything but blue skies on Christmas?” The only thing Harold watched more than the Cavaliers was the Weather Channel. No one was about to start an argument about the weather, especially with Harold.
Max held the door open as everyone else filed out into the cold December evening. Evan ran for his car so CeCe didn’t have to walk. After getting her piled in and settled, they bid farewell and drove home, where he would likely duct tape his wife to the couch.
Ginny looked up at the sky, blinking at the chill. “I think it’ll be fine,” she said to herself.
“I know it will be, mostly because Agnes needs a doctor, not a meteorologist.”
They hugged and kissed Harold and Mona before getting into their car with the kids. The sugar and excitement had worn off, with both kids falling asleep during the ten-minute drive home.
When he pulled the car into the garage, Ginny held her hand out to stop him from turning off the car. Bing Crosby crooned through the speakers, the only other sounds the kids’ snores. “Tonight was perfect,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss Max’s cheek.
“It was,” he agreed, turning his face so he could kiss Ginny on the lips. “At the risk of sounding corny, this might be the best Christmas ever.”
Ginny smiled, her lips finding Max’s once more. “It will be.”
Pressing his forehead against Ginny’s, Max said, “He was great. Not one hiccup.”
“I knew he would be.” Ginny sighed contently, relieved beyond words.
The moment was interrupted by loud barking from the house. Apparently, Zippy wanted to share in the family togetherness. Josie and Henry woke, unbuckled, and ran inside to play with the dog. “Don’t even think about overfeeding him, Hen!” Max shouted as the door slammed shut.
“Merry Christmas, Max.” Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close.
