Daddy called me Bae. But he wasn’t the first. That honor, too, belonged to Griffin. He had been the first to come up with my nickname, Bae. Was it short for Bailey or for the monogram of my whole name, Bailey Ann Edgeworth? Like the Color-Wheel Boys, my nickname stuck. Little did any of us know that years later in the Urban Dictionary it would come to mean “Before Anyone Else.” It summed up the situation perfectly.

Chapter Three

I woke to the steady strum of my men at work in the kitchen. I heard the oven door open and close. I could already smell onions being sautéed. Merry Christmas to me. I jumped out of bed and went downstairs.

I stood on the threshold of the kitchen. All three men were at their familiar posts. Henry, looking no worse for the wear, stood at the stove. Griffin was in front of a cutting board slicing and dicing. Daddy was sitting at the island acting as maestro conducting the workings in his kitchen. He was sipping his cappuccino. Daddy used to make one for me each morning. He called it “starter fuel.” Henry looked up.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. We thought you might sleep the day away. I bet you don’t want any breakfast,” Henry said, turning an eye of the stove off.

“When have you ever known me to turn down food?” I asked. I noticed Henry was already getting out some cinnamon bread.

“Cinnamon toast or cinnamon French toast?” He was already opening the refrigerator. The easy banter that was ours had returned.

“It’s Christmas. Let’s blow it out,” I said, but Henry was already whisking an egg. He hugged me and kissed the top of my head. “Merry Christmas, little sister.” Even Daddy leaned over and kissed my cheek. I think my men were more demonstrative in the kitchen because they were just so comfortable here.

Griffin turned around and smiled at me and said, “Cappuccino?” I don’t know what he did, but he made the best cappuccino I have ever had. I had sampled them all up and down Madison Avenue, and no one even came close. He put the cup and saucer in front of me, and I noticed that the saucer had a holly leaf and berry. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Presentation, Bae. Merry Christmas.”

We opened presents before lunch. I always went first. I recognized the box. They always gave me the same thing. I had discovered it during my adolescent years when I was crushing on Griffin. For a tomboy, makeup was just too much for me. The perfume I purchased might be considered odd for a fifteen-year-old girl. It was called Nutmeg & Ginger by Jo Malone. It appealed to me because it didn’t smell like a giant gardenia bush had vomited all over me. I may have failed Vixen 101, but my men appreciated it. It smelled like their kitchen. It became my signature scent.

“Bae, they discontinued Nutmeg & Ginger. I hope you like this,” Griffin interjected before I opened the box. It was Myrrh & Tonka.