Waffles. Coffee. Orange juice. Maple syrup. Toast with homemade jam. (Mrs. Lofgren’s gift was unneeded; fortunately, as Ty still hadn’t appeared.) JJ’s grandpa waxing rhapsodically over the taste and texture of the waffles, Dad grumbling about the weather, Uncle Harry tossing out jokes and teasing Elissa to make the red-haired girl, Anne, laugh. His grandma patting his head each time she stacked a fresh waffle on his plate, his mother on his other side showering him with concerned looks. It was like a dream he might have had, once. Of course, most Thanksgivings, JJ would have just returned from a long morning out deer hunting with his buddies Bob and Duke and their dads, but nobody mentioned that now. Nobody mentioned that Bob and Duke were both dead. JJ ate until his stomach hurt, and then he ate some more.

“How are you feeling, JJ?” asked his mother quietly.

“Great! I’m great!” he said, dangling a whole waffle from his teeth, tearing off half of it and chewing, swallowing.

“Heavens, JJ!” Wilma laughed, from her customary seat at the end of the table, at his right hand.

The red-haired girl, sitting across from JJ and next to Harry, glanced at JJ, too. Anne. His aunt-to-be. She looked like goddamn Rita Hayworth, almost, only shorter, not as busty. He winked at her. She met his gaze with a calm little smile. She thinks I’m pathetic, goddamn it.

“So when’s the wedding, Lissa, now that Ty’s back?” Grandpa John asked Elissa.

“I am so sorry we couldn’t wait breakfast for him, Elissa,” Wilma put in, “but I was so afraid everything would get cold! Maybe we should remove his place, do you think?”

“Oh, no, Grandma, it’s fine. I’m sure he’ll be here any minute,” Elissa said, then turned to John. “I’m not sure, exactly. He wants to have it at New Year’s.”

“New Year’s!” exclaimed Wilma. “So soon!” There were murmurs from the others.

Elissa looked at her plate. “But I have an obligation to finish my training.”

“Aw, Liss,” JJ said. “The war’s over. Why don’t you make a soldier happy and marry him?” It seemed the thing to say.

Elissa just looked at him; her exasperated expression was familiar from years gone by. He laughed, and took another bite of waffle.

Wilma spoke up. “I left college to marry your grandfather, you know, Elissa. And Mary left college to marry your father. It’s something of a family tradition. Have you decided if you’re wearing my dress?”

“I told you, Grandma, Mom’s made me a suit.”

“A suit! In my day, we got married in a gown.”

“I know, Grandma, but things are different now.”

Just then, there was a loud knock at the front door.

“That must be Ty,” Wilma said.

“I’ll get it, Grandma,” Elissa said, sliding her chair back.