“Don’t you dare,” Carlette said. “I’m happy to take him home.” She gently shook the old man’s shoulder. “Granddad?”

The old man’s eyes fluttered, then opened. “Sorry. Guess I must have dozed off. I’m not really used to being out and about this late at night.”

“Mom and I are going to walk you to her car, and she’s going to give you a ride home,” Ezra said. He offered Lawrence his arm and eased him to his feet.

“Would you look at that?” Lawrence exclaimed, holding out the sleeve of his coat, which had already accumulated a dusting of flakes. “It’s snowing!”

Chapter 24

By the time they met up again at the soldier’s memorial statue, half an inch of snow had accumulated on the park benches, the ground, and even the bronze soldier himself. Ivy was grateful for the cashmere scarf Lawrence had gifted her and for the wool tights under the Mrs. Santa dress, but she was shivering, rubbing her arms in a vain attempt to keep warm.

“You need a coat!” Ezra exclaimed as he walked up, his boots crunching on the frosty sidewalk.

“What about you?” Ivy retorted.

“I’m wearing thermal long johns and two pairs of socks. Mom’s idea,” he admitted. “Come on, let’s head over to the restaurant. You’re freezing and I’m starved.”

“This snow is coming down pretty fast,” Ivy pointed out. “You know, I’ve been living in Atlanta so long, I haven’t really driven in this kind of weather in a long time. Maybe we really should rethink the restaurant.”

Ezra’s face fell. “I thought we had a deal. Dinner in exchange for plumbing services.”

“How about dinner at my place?”

“You cook?”

“Oh yes,” she said airily. “I can cook anything you like, but the house specialty is the happy waitress.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve never had a happy waitress?”

“That’s a food option?”

“You’ll love it,” Ivy promised.

She removed the ice tray from the freezer, cracked some cubes into a jelly jar, then poured an inch of bourbon over the cubes and handed it to Ezra, who was seated at the kitchen table with Punkin hovering close by.

The Santa suit jacket hung on the back of Ezra’s chair and he’d removed the boots, but only after he’d gone out to the henhouse to check on Ivy’s chickens.

“They’re snug in their roosts.” He looked around the kitchen, then back at Ivy, standing at the old-fashioned stove, melting butter in a black cast-iron skillet. She’d tied one of Betty Rae’s aprons over her velvet dress and was sipping a glass of wine. “Like you.”

She turned and smiled. “You know, when I saw this kitchen in the online listing I thought the first thing I’d do would be to rip out everything in here. Get some granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances…”

“And now?”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind having a real ice maker, and some drawers that didn’t stick, but otherwise, I’ve kind of gotten used to the place.”

“It suits you,” Ezra said.