She brushed off his comment with a second hug. When she moved away, she turned toward his brother. “Look who’s here!”

Dameon moved forward and reached out his hand.

Tristan grasped it in the handshake their father had taught them both. “Good to see you,” Tristan said.

“You, too.” The words were polite, and honestly not felt. “I thought you couldn’t make it.”

Tristan let go and shrugged. “Plans changed.”

Their mom placed a hand on both their arms. “The perfect Christmas present for me is to see both my boys in the same room getting along.”

Dameon gave it an hour before someone was pissed off.

Grace started with eggnog. The homemade kind that took a full day to set in the refrigerator after it was mixed. The turkey was in the oven, and she and her mom moved around the kitchen in complete sync with each other as they prepared all the side dishes that they only cooked once or twice a year.

“Colin tells me you’re having trouble at work,” Nora said while shedding tears from cutting onions.

Grace had her hands full of bread crumbs and sage sausage she was mixing together to create stuffing. “I wouldn’t call it trouble, I’d call it the norm.”

“Richard’s always been an ass,” her father called from the couch where he sat watching a football game. “Thought he was better than anyone else because he went back east for college.”

Her father and Richard had gone to high school together.

“You’re comfortably retired and he still punches a time clock. Seems you made the better choice,” Grace told her dad.

“That’s because I married right. What number is Richard on? Three or four?”

“Four. But I didn’t see the latest wife at the Christmas party so maybe the honeymoon is over.”

Nora shook her head. “That’s really unfortunate.”

Grace grabbed a handful of her mom’s diced onions and added it to her mix. “He’s an ass. I can’t imagine anyone marrying him. He probably has a schedule of when to have sex and who has to be on top.”

Nora started laughing until she snorted.

“You know it’s true,” Grace said, laughing with her mom.

“Maybe you should start looking in the private sector for a job,” her dad suggested.

“I’ve been thinking about it. It’s hard to make the leap. I make a decent living.”

“Not worth it if you’re miserable.” By now her dad had turned around to look at her from the sofa. The TV was flashing commercials.

“I’m not miserable,” she said.

“You’re not exactly happy either,” Nora said.

“Maybe if you found the right man.”

Grace’s eyes shot to her dad’s. “Let’s get that conversation out of the way before Aunt Beth shows up. I don’t want to hear about my uterus drying up all day.”

Her mom moved to the sink to wash her hands. “We’re just worried about you. You haven’t dated since that unfortunate encounter with Erin’s ex.”

“Nothing wrong with going to see a shrink,” her dad said. Emmitt was an avid believer in psychologists, psychiatrists, or anyone who could help you work through trauma.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t need that.”

“So you’re dating again?” Nora asked.

An image of Dameon had her smiling. “I did meet someone.”

That’s all she needed to say. Her dad put the TV on pause, and the room filled with silence.

Her parents stared.

“Oh my God, you guys act like I’ve been in a convent for a year.”

“Do you know how many names your father and I have heard from you since high school?”

Grace had been a serial dater up until the past summer. “Maybe I’m tired of the chase.”

“Wait, is it that suit-wearing land developer guy?” Her dad frowned like he’d just eaten something rotten.

Grace knew this conversation wasn’t going to go well. “His name is Dameon Locke, not suit-wearing land developer guy. And I really shouldn’t be interested in him. With Richard up my butt, it’s really not smart on my end.”

Her father scowled, disapproval written all over his face.

“Not everyone in a suit is a bad guy, Dad.”

“When are you bringing him over?” Nora asked.

Grace stopped what she was doing. “I’ve known him less than a month and I don’t know when you’ll meet him. Now stop, okay? You know I’m not stewing in self-pity after Desmond, so let it go.”

Her mom leaned over and kissed her cheek. “We just worry, Gracie.”

“I know. But I’m okay.”

Tristan had their mom in stitches.

His brother was dressed for the beach: shorts, flip-flops, and long, sun-kissed hair. The only thing he was missing was a tie-dyed T-shirt to go with his bloodshot eyes.

“The dog surfs better than Seth.” Tristan was going on about one of his friends and his surfing border collie.

Dameon listened while he peeled potatoes. With his mom distracted, he jumped in to help, otherwise they wouldn’t be eating until late.

“Did you see this?” Lois brought Tristan’s cell phone to show Dameon a picture. Sure enough, the drenched dog wearing a life preserver sat perched on a surfboard.

“That’s impressive.” For a teenager.

With the potatoes peeled, Dameon went in search of a pot.

“What’s the dog’s name?”

“Barnacle, but we call him Barney.”

That had his mom laughing again. “So clever. Don’t you think that’s clever, Dameon?”

“Very funny.” The cupboard he remembered his mom’s pots to be in was filled with cookie sheets and pie tins. “Where are the pots for this?” he asked.

“Oh, let me do that.” Lois moved to his side and grabbed a knife. “Why don’t you pour some wine and sit and chat with your brother.”

I’d rather cook and burn dinner.

“Yeah, bro. Tell me what’s new in your life.” Tristan leaned back in the chair he’d scooted next to the kitchen island.

Dameon wiped his hands dry on a towel and searched a drawer for a corkscrew. “Work is great. I have a big project breaking ground next year.”

“No, man . . . what’s new? You’re always working. Do you have a Mrs. in the works?”

Dameon opened his mouth only to have his mom cut him off.

“Dameon has a girlfriend.”

“Oh yeah? What’s her name?” Tristan asked.

This was not a conversation he wanted to have with his brother, who kept calling him bro and man.

“Her name is Grace,” his mom said.

“That’s cool. Is it serious?”

“It’s new” was all Dameon wanted to say.

Tristan kept nodding.

“What about you, honey? Anyone special in your life?” Lois asked.

“I’m not ready for that. Let the older son settle down first, right, bro?”

Dameon wiggled the cork free with a pop. “Who wants wine?”

The bird was out of the oven, and the side dishes were in various stages of cooking or ready while sitting in the warmer.