Page 98 of What I Like About You

Moments later, my phone buzzes with a text from Mom.

Mom

The superior topping!

6:14 PM

Ollie

#TeamSourCream4Life

6:16 PM

Dad

6:17 PM

Ollie looks up from his latkes. “Why are they even still awake?”

“Probably reviewing footage,” I say.

It’s almost one-thirty in Israel, but the better a project is going, the later my parents work into the night. At this point, Dad’s probably trying to wrap up and go to bed. But Mom’s glued to the raw footage. Every time Dad goes to press pause, Mom blocks the keyboard with her arms and says,Just five more minutes.

It’s the filmmaker equivalent ofJust one more chapter.

Gramps joins us at the table, reaching for the applesauce because he’s on the right team. “It’d be nice to not have the phones at the table tonight.”

“The parents say Happy Chanukah,” Ollie says.

“Happy Chanukah. Go to sleep,” Gramps says. “Tell them that’s from me—and then put your phone away! It’s present time.”

Gramps is very serious about the Chanukah table being a No Phone Zone while we exchange gifts. Instead of one present every night, we decided just one gift each on the first night would be enough.

My present is for both Gramps and Ollie, but it’s kind of the best.

I hand Ollie the envelope. His eyes bulge out of their sockets when he opens the card andboom, I am the best older sister on this planet. Success.

“How?” he asks, mouth open in awe.

“I’m the best,” I say.

“Obviously! Oh my God …” Ollie’s face scrunches. “There are only two tickets.”

“It’s a bro date,” I say.

“It’s too much,” Gramps says, eyes wide, but he’s smiling and that’s how IknowI’ve nailed it.

“Clear your schedule for April sixth, Gramps. We’re going to the Red Sox home opener!” Ollie throws his arms around me. For a split second, I forget that lately he’s annoyed at me ninety percent of the time. I forget that I haven’t even told him about the panel yet. With this gift, I am the best, coolest sister again—if only for one night. I’m a pretty awesome granddaughter, too, if I do say so myself.

The small fortune was worth it just for the look on their faces.

Gramps gives Ollie his old baseball glove, but his gift for me is hand-wrapped—notin a bag—and suspiciously book-shaped. It’s … kind of disappointing. I mean, I know Iambooks. It ismy brand. I guess I thought maybe Gramps would branch out into other realms of my interests. I contain multitudes. I rip the menorah wrapping paper, wondering which book on my TBR will be inside.

I’m not expecting a book I’ve already read.

Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. All proper and British, like Grams promised. Grams, who always said no true Harry Potter collection was complete without thephilosopher’sstone. When she came back from the London Bookfair with Cadbury chocolate and a Harry and Meghan royal wedding mug, I just thought she forgot.

“Oh,”I say. I have the biggest lump in my throat. “Gramps—”

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