“We can’t have that,” she said lightly. “There’s too much work to be done, and it’s for a good cause. I’ve been practicing my loom knitting. I think the kids will enjoy it, and the loom will be easier for them than regular knitting.”

“You knit?”

“Where do you think Belle gets her sweaters?”

“Impressive.”

Reggie’s mother breezed into the kitchen. “There you two are. Come join us. We’re trying to remember when you two started dating. Your father says you weren’t allowed to date when you were a sophomore, but I told him you were. Which is it, Reggie?”

“Mom, we’re not going to talk about that.”

Leigh smiled at them both. “Too late! Besides, isn’t it better to get all this awkward talk out of the way so we can enjoy our dinner in peace?”

Toby glanced longingly toward the back door. Reggie intercepted the look and shook her head.

“No way. If I have to endure it, then you do, too. We’ll come up with an alternative topic to distract them.”

“Good luck with that,” he said, his voice teasing.

“You need a more positive attitude.”

“I’ll leave that to you.”

Dena paused in the courtyard by the carriage house. She was full and a little sleepy. The day had been a good one—she enjoyed her family’s company, and having Toby, Harrison and Judy join them had made for an interesting meal.

It was barely seven but felt later, and the night air was freezing. Still she hesitated, not sure if she should knock on Micah’s door or not. The decision was taken out of her hands when the door in question swung open and Micah stepped out into the night.

“You lost?” he asked lightly.

She laughed and waved the bag in her hand. “I brought you leftovers. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but then I started second-guessing myself.”

“Don’t ever do that.” He stepped back in obvious invitation.

She went inside. He took the bag and studied the contents.

“There’s a lot of food here,” he said.

“Turkey, both stuffing and dressing. My family has both for reasons we don’t need to get into. Green beans and three slices of pie.”

He looked at her. “I really did have dinner with Steve and his family.”

“I believe you.”

“Then why the food?”

“I’m a nurturer. I can’t help myself.”

He motioned to the sofa. “Have a seat.”

She hung her coat, then settled in a corner of the couch. Part of her hoped he would sit right next to her, draping his arm across her shoulders before whispering that he couldn’t stop thinking about her and then pressing his mouth to—

“Can I get you anything?” he asked.

“Huh? Oh, no. I’m good. So, did you have fun today?”