“I know. It’s just a matter of time until he starts complaining that we’re eating at three.” Reggie pulled a bottle of sparkling cider from the fridge. “So you’ll feel special at dinner.”

“Very sweet.”

“The turkey is giant. It’s just the four of us. Mom must be in the mood for leftovers.”

“I’ll take some home with me.” Dena smiled. “Did you already do your stuffing-is-gross rant?”

“Yes, both out loud and in my head.”

Reggie had spent the early part of the morning helping her mother, chopping vegetables and cooking sausage for the stuffing. For those who didn’t like their bread product basted in turkey blood, there was dressing, cooked in a casserole dish.

“You hungry?” she asked Dena.

“A little.”

“Go watch the game. I’ll make you a salad.” When she hesitated, Reggie gave her a little push toward the living room. “Go!”

Dena joined their parents. Reggie pulled ingredients out of the refrigerator, turned and nearly ran into Belle.

“You’re being stealthy,” she complained with a laugh.

Belle eyed the cheese and cooked chicken breast.

“Not for you.”

Reggie expected a protest, but before Belle could make one, Burt careened into the kitchen. His little feet slipped on the hardwood floor, sending him plowing into Belle, who shrieked and then took off down the hall. Burt went after her, obviously loving the game.

“If you’d stand up to him, he would leave you alone,” Reggie called after them.

She confirmed that neither of her parents wanted a salad, then went to work. While she admired Dena, Reggie couldn’t imagine being that brave. Deliberately choosing to get pregnant was life-changing. There were weeks Belle was all the responsibility Reggie could handle.

She called Dena back to the kitchen.

“Here you go,” she said. “Healthy goodness. I even used kale.”

Dena wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like kale.”

“It’s good for you. It’s dark and leafy, so it has to be healthy.”

“It tastes yucky.”

“That’s mature.”

Dena laughed and joined her at the island. Belle returned to her bed in the kitchen, but kept her eye out for anything that fell.

“I’m excited to start the charity project on Monday,” Reggie said. “I’ve been practicing and I’m getting pretty good.”

Her sister eyed her humorously. “How much of your enthusiasm is about Toby?”

Reggie had done her best to forget about him. “None.”

Dena raised her eyebrows. “Really?” She drew the word out to several syllables.

“Yes, really. Why would I be interested in him? I don’t know anything about him. I knew him when he was, what? Seventeen? Eighteen? He’s a totally different person now.”

“He’s kind of sexy.”

“Then you date him.”

“He’s your boyfriend.”

“He’s not! What part of ‘it’s been years’ is unclear to you?”

“So you have no interest in him?”