“Maybe. These were my favorite when I was little. My mom used to make them every Christmas. Gravy cookies.” She picked up the recipe card.
“Gravy cookies?”
“Yeah, don’t ask.” She shook her head.
He smiled as he leaned against the counter and blew on his tea. “Your dad mentioned those once. Said they smelled like the holidays to him.”
“He did?” She looked toward the living room, where she could hear the television volume increase slightly.
“Yeah. Miss Judy made gingerbread cookies for the lodge last month, and your dad said they reminded him of something your mom used to make, but they weren’t quite the same.”
She studied the recipe card, noting the ingredients. Basic pantry staples, nothing fancy. “I wonder if we have everything.”
“Only one way to find out. I can help if you want. Though I should warn you, I’m better at eating cookies than making them.”
For the first time since arriving in Sweet River Falls, she felt a genuine smile form. “Let me check the pantry.”
To her surprise, they had almost everything they needed. She found flour and sugar. The spices were there, though the ginger was nearly empty. The only thing missing was molasses.
“I could run out and get some,” Beckett offered.
She hesitated, looking at the snow still falling outside the window. “I don’t want you to have to go back out in this.”
“It’s no problem. I need to pick up a few things for dinner anyway. Any other requests while I’m there?” He finished his tea and set the mug in the sink.
“I guess get more ginger and the molasses. Thank you.” She handed him some cash from her wallet, which he tried to refuse.
“I’ve got it covered. Save that for something else.”
“Please, take it. I’m the one who wants to make the cookies.”
He relented, tucking the money into his pocket. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
After he left, she gathered the rest of the ingredients and began measuring them out. She found her mother’s old mixing bowls in a lower cabinet, still in the same place after all these years. The familiar weight of the ceramic bowl in her hands brought back more memories.
Her father appeared in the doorway, leaning on his cane. “What are you up to in here?”
She held up the recipe card. “I found Mom’s recipe for gravy cookies. Thought I might make a batch.”
Something flickered across his face, too quick for her to identify. “Haven’t had those in a long time.”
“Not since Mom died,” she said quietly.
He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Need any help?”
The offer surprised her. “Um, sure. Beckett went to get molasses, but we could start creaming the butter and sugar.”
He shuffled to the table and lowered himself into a chair. “I’ll supervise from here, if that’s all right. Doctor said I should take it easy.”
“That’s fine.” She brought the butter and sugar to the table, along with the mixing bowl and a wooden spoon. She sat across from her father and began working the butter with the spoon to soften it.
“Your mother always used to let the butter sit out overnight. Said it made for better cookies.”
“I remember.” She added the sugar and continued mixing. “But I’m impatient.”
Stan’s lips rose in what might have been a smile. “You get that from me. Your mother was the patient one.”
They sat in companionable silence as she worked, the only sound the scrape of the spoon against the bowl. It was the longest they’d been alone together without tension since she’d arrived.
