“No time,” Max replied, scooping out cheesy scrambled eggs for his family. Henry’s plate was covered in diced peppers and ham, while Josie’s plate was a sunny pile of frill-free eggs.
Both children dug into their breakfasts without a word, earning a reminder from Ginny. “What do we say when someone slaves away over a meal for us?”
“Dad does this for a living,” Josie said. “Like, all over town.” She flapped her arms around her, as if her father fed all of Buckeye Falls.Well, he kind of did.
Ginny stifled a groan. “Yes, Dad is a chef, but he’s not on the clock. What do we say?” She raised an eyebrow at her children. Through a mouthful of eggs, they mumbled “Thanks.”
Yes, Max was a chef, but he had also started a restaurant empire in Buckeye Falls. Not only did he own the only diner in town, but he and CeCe and Evan had a successful side hustle with their food truck, yet Max wasn’t done expanding. His newest restaurant, Max’s Gin Joint, was set to open after the diner’s renovations began. It was the first time he’d own a place with a liquor license, specializing in higher-class fare. The new place was also a way for him, CeCe, and Evan to stretch their culinary muscle.
Max had poured his heart and soul into the diner, but the old girl needed a facelift. The kitchen was out of date, the booths were lumpier than cozy, and the steps outside were bordering on a liability. This Christmas meal would be the last in the space, and Max wanted to say goodbye in style—with his dearest friends.
At Ginny’s insistence, they invited everyone they loved for Christmas dinner. It would be a potluck affair with their best friends and all the kids. Most everyone’s parents were traveling for the holiday this year, so the friends looked forward to an intimate celebration. Max’s fingers itched with the need to cook something fabulous; the necessity to feed his favorite people something truly festive and over the top.
Max’s musings were interrupted by a wailing sound from the backyard. Henry was on his feet in seconds, dashing out the backdoor before Ginny could even put her fork down. “Wait!” she shouted as she clambered to her feet, Josie followed right behind her.
Max was faster, pushing outside just in time to see Henry carry Zippy in his arms. The young boy’s lips trembled as he cradled the dog to his chest. “Z ... Z...” his words faltered, stopping Max dead in his tracks. Opening his mouth again, nothing came out but a whimper.
When they’d had their children, all Max prayed for was healthy kids. He’d begged the universe to spare his children from the pain of a stammer, from the embarrassment of needing to find their words. He’d dealt with his fumbling tongue his whole life, and despite gaining confidence over the years, he knew it was draining for Henry.
It was almost as if his mouth was too quick for his brain, desperate to spew out every thought all at once, causing the letters to tumble together into alphabet soup. During his childhood, the stutter made Max a popular target for bullies. The one person who never wavered with patience and kindness with his infernal stammer was Ginny. When they’d met in high school, she’d never giggled or rolled her eyes, instead choosing to wait while he found his words ... and in some ways found himself.
Yet there were circumstances where time didn’t heal all wounds. Watching his son struggle brought a lump to Max’s throat, and he stuttered as he fell to his knees and took Zippy from Henry’s shaking grasp. His throat was dry, constricting against the anguish. “Z ... Z ... Zippy will b ... be okay.” He held up the dog’s front paw and saw a nail embedded in the pad.
Ginny was at Max’s side, rubbing her hand up and down his back in soothing circles. “Looks like he stepped on a nail, but it’ll be okay.” Turning over her shoulder, Ginny found Josie waiting. Her sullen pre-teen expression evaporated; the girl’s eyes were the size of hubcaps. “Call Gramps, and tell him to swing by with the crate for Zippy. I’m taking him to the vet on my way to work.”
Josie nodded and dashed inside.
Max dipped his head; his tongue as heavy as a cinder block, a dark curl falling over his forehead. “Th ... thanks.”
Ginny pressed a kiss to Max’s temple, whispering words of encouragement as his heart rate slowed. “You’re both just a little excited,” she cooed. “It’s okay.”
Henry wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. “Will Zippy be all right?” he asked, his speech recovering quickly.
Ginny nodded, reaching out to smooth back his cowlick. Much like his father, Henry’s hair loved to curl in every direction.
“Zippy is fine. Gramps will be here soon, and we’ll get him all sorted out.”
No sooner had Ginny uttered the words, her father, Harold, bounded outside with the crate and his wife, Mona, hot on his heels.
Mona was clad in one of her signature Christmas ensembles. This sweater was green with red handprints all over and flashing lights the colors of cranberries. Josie and Henry had made it years ago, and Mona wore it every chance she got as soon as the Halloween sweaters were packed away for the season.
“We got here as fast as we could,” Mona gasped as she helped Harold with the crate. Max lifted the dog inside, muttering words of reassurance as they closed the door. Zippy sneezed and curled up in the crate, seemingly resigned to his impending vet visit.
Josie came outside holding her brother’s coat. “Hen, the bus will be here any second.” Her hands trembled as she shook the garment in his direction.
Henry hugged Max and Ginny before following his sister inside.
Max ran a hand down his face and stood. “Thanks for saving the day,” he said to his in-laws.
Harold patted his shoulder and nodded. “I’m just glad we were driving by when Josie called. We’re on our way to pickleball at the community center, but we’ll drop Zippy off on the way.”
Ginny hugged her step-mother and sighed. “You’re both lifesavers.”
Mona shook her head. “We’re family. It’s nothing. Now, you two take a moment to calm down. I’ll make sure they get on the bus.” She turned and headed back into the house, hummingJingle Bell Rockunder her breath.
Harold shared another round of hugs before sidestepping a pile of Zippy’s puke. Pointing with his toe, he frowned. “Do I want to know?”
Ginny snorted with laughter. “You might want to tell Dr. Fredericks that Zippy took part in the Buckeye Falls dog food eating competition.”
