Grace Lombard had watched with an amused, pitying smile that told him what he already suspected—no escape for you now, young man. Gibson sighed. How bad could it be? He flipped to chapter one. What the hell was a hobbit? Whatever. He’d read for twenty minutes, Bear would get bored or fall asleep, and that would be the end of it.

“All right. Where do you want to read it?”

“Yes!” she said triumphantly and then had to think, not having planned on getting this far. “By the fireplace?”

She led him to an armchair in the living room. The fire was dying, and Bear built it up until Grace warned her not to burn down the house. Then he’d waited another ten minutes while Bear arranged everything just so. That meant piles of pillows and a throw, hot chocolate for her, a glass of Cran-Apple juice for him. She ran around the room, adjusting the lights so it wasn’t too bright but not too dark either. Gibson stood in the middle of the room, wondering what he’d gotten himself into.

“Sit, sit, sit,” Bear said.

He sat. “Is this okay?”

“Perfect!” Bear snuggled contentedly across his lap and put her head on his shoulder.

He gave her ten minutes before she’d be asleep.

“Are you ready?” he said, trying to sound grumpy but failing.

“Ready. Oh, wait,” she said but thought better of it. “No, never mind.”

“What?”

“Never mind,” she said, shaking her head. “Next time.”

There wasn’t going to be a next time. He opened the book and got comfortable. Halfway into the first sentence, Bear stopped him.

“Son?”

He stopped. “What?”

“Thank you.”

“You know there’s no way I’m reading this whole thing.”

“That’s okay. Just as much as you feel like.”

He read the first thirty pages without a pause. Bear didn’t fall asleep, and it wasn’t even a bad story. There was a wizard and magic, so that was pretty cool. They were still reading when the senator and Duke took a break from their strategizing. Mrs. Lombard led them to the doorway of the living room. Stealthily, like it was a safari, and they might startle the wildlife. Gibson didn’t notice them until the camera flashed.

A framed copy of the picture had hung in the hall between their bedrooms, and Duke had kept one in his office at home.

After the surprise photo, Gibson had tried to quit reading, but Bear, sensing trouble, clamped her hands around his arm.

“What happens next?”

Gibson found he was curious too.