Grandpa laughs. “Okay, I hear you. I’ll leave you alone now.”

“Gastropods are a staple of their diet.”

“Good night, Hall.”

My grandfather walks out of the kitchen, closes the door, and without even glancing at me where I’ve flattened myself to the wall off to the side, says in a low, amused voice, “Night, Bettie.”

I straighten myself out, grand and dignified. “Lawrence.”

His eyes gleam. “What an interesting couple you two make.”

“I agree. We’re the trendiest item ever.”

“Mm-hmm. And are you going to keep him around after the holidays are over?”

My eyes narrow. “I don’t understand your meaning.”

He chuckles once, makes a gesture that is somewhere between wave and salute, and strolls off toward his study.

“You forgot my tip!” I call. Grandpa’s deep laugh booms from the staircase.

As soon as he’s gone, I immediately burst into the kitchen, startling Hall, who drops a rolling pin to the floor.

“It’s just me,” I say breezily. “What are we up to in here?”

Hall lays a hand over his heart, the color slowly returning to his stricken face.

“Nothing whatsoever.”

I consider teasing him about mallard trivia but am delightfully distracted by his new BBQ MASTER apron. Flour and pumpkin pie ingredients cover every surface of the kitchen. “Here.” I dig into my pocket. “I’ve got something for you.”

He perks up. “Another present?”

“Sort of. It’s nothing big. Remember that old birthday card I made for Grandpa?”

He examines the folded paper in my hands with interest. “Yes.”

“It made you laugh, so I, um. Drew one for you.”

It’s rather pathetic, actually. Since I couldn’t stop thinking about Hall today but didn’t have much opportunity to chat with him (Grandma was hogging him. He’s an eager audience for all her wild stories that the rest of us have already heard), I was wandering in the tower room, reading more of Felix’s old Leon of Naples script, when I saw the card again. I remembered how it made Hall laugh.

It got me thinking that I would very much like to make him laugh some more. At Cracker Barrel, he said he likes that I surprise him. With this information in mind, I schemed up one-liners designed to do just that.

He takes a look, and it’s just as I hoped:

He laughs from the heart, hand on his chest. “ ‘Congratulations on your engagement,’ ” he reads. “ ‘You’re lucky to have me.’ ” He raises an eyebrow, eyes mischievous. “Is that so?” Then, he admires my logo on the back, which I’ve updated from my childhood days. The Hughes & Co. is now accompanied by a holly leaf.

“What do you think of the drawing?”

He turns it over. “Very . . . why nachos?”

“I was hungry.”

Another laugh from him, and now I’ve become quite smug. I used to make these sorts of cards all the time but grew out of it. After picking up the old hobby again today, I had a ball. Since I didn’t have anything else to do, I spent an hour happily losing myself drawing a dozen other cards that nobody would ever want.