Page 24 of Tee the Season
“For you?” The words come out before I can filter them. “Yeah.”
Aunt Mae clears her throat delicately. “Well. I think that’s a wonderful idea. Don’t you, Tabitha?”
“I—yes. If you’re sure.” Tabitha looks at me with an expression I can’t quite read. Gratitude mixed with something deeper. “Thank you, Rory.”
“I think this calls for a treat,” Aunt Mae says, reaching for her walker. “Tabitha, dear, would you grab the tin of butter cookies from the top shelf?”
Tabitha heads to the kitchen, and I follow, watching as she surveys the cabinet. The tin sits on the highest shelf, just out of comfortable reach. She stretches up on her toes, and her sweater rides up, revealing a strip of skin at her lower back.
“Need help?” The offer comes out rougher than intended.
“I’ve got it.” But she glances back, catches me staring, and something sparks between us before she reaches for the stepstool tucked beside the refrigerator. She retrieves the tin without issue, but when she turns to climb down, I’m there to steady the stool. Our eyes meet. Hold.
“Thanks,” she murmurs.
Back in the family room, Aunt Mae accepts the cookie Tabitha hands her then directs her next question at both of us. “You’ll come for Sunday dinner when this clears up?”
“Of course,” Tabitha says.
Aunt Mae’s gaze lands on me. “Both of you.”
There’s a beat of silence where I should probably point out I’ll be in Texas by then. Instead, I say, “If I’m still in town, I’d be happy to.”
Aunt Mae’s smile could power the entire eastern seaboard. “Wonderful. Tabitha makes an excellent pot roast.”
“Aunt Mae—” Tabitha starts, but the old woman waves her off.
“What? I’m just being hospitable.” She reaches out to pat my hand, her touch surprisingly strong. “Thank you for clearing my walk. And for helping my girl here figure out her Santa situation.”
Her girl. The possessiveness in those two words, the obvious affection, does something to my chest. It makes me think about roots that go deep and matter. Everything I’ve never had and never thought I wanted.
“No problem,” I manage.
“We should probably head back soon,” Tabitha says, glancing toward the window where gray skies are already darkening. “Before it gets worse.”
“Of course, dear.” Aunt Mae’s still smiling as we gather our things. “Drive safe. Or walk safely, rather. And Rory? Thank you again. For everything.”
The walk back is quieter than the trip over, both of us lost in our own thoughts. But when we reach Tabitha’s building and climb the stairs to her apartment, I can’t stop thinking about the way Aunt Mae looked at us. As if she’d already decided I belong at her table.
And it’s then I decide to text Hays. To ask him to set up an interview for the day after tomorrow.
Chapter twelve
Tabitha
The children’s corner looks better than it has all season. Extra string lights from my apartment cast a warm glow and provide the additional lighting needed for the camera. Rory’s adjusting a stack of books to support my laptop, the best makeshift tripod we could come up with given the circumstances.
“When did you do all this?”
“While you were upstairs changing.” He studies the setup with intense focus. “Figured we should get started.”
Something dangerous unfurls in my chest. I shove it down.
“It’s ready to test.” He straightens, and in the cramped corner, we’re nearly chest to chest. “And I know someone who’d be perfect.”
He’s already pulling out his phone, and thirty seconds later, Rory’s FaceTiming his sister, and his whole face transforms.
“Hey, Melissa. Is Sophie around?”
