He looked down at her—this small person who processed the world the way he did, who found beauty in systems and orderin chaos. Who didn’t require him to explain himself or apologize for how his brain worked.
“You’re not wrong,” he said.
Marie beamed.
The sound of approaching footsteps made Lincoln turn. Zac Mackay—Annie’s husband, Becky’s father, one of the original Linear Tactical founders—had entered the room. He stopped when he saw the table.
His gaze traveled from the excellence end to the brave end. Lingered on Aunt Ray’s covered dish, which Lincoln had thoughtfully labeled with a small folded napkin reading PROCEED WITH CAUTION.
“Lincoln.” Zac’s voice was carefully neutral. “Did you organize the desserts by quality?”
“Technically byOptimal Consumption Priority,” Lincoln corrected. “Marie assisted.”
Marie nodded solemnly. “We used scientific wigor, Uncle Zac.”
Zac stared at the table for a long moment. Then his shoulders started to shake.
He was laughing. Actually laughing—the deep, genuine kind that transformed his whole face.
“Well,” he managed, “you’re not wrong. But if your Aunt Charlie sees this?—”
He turned toward the main room. “Finn! Get in here.”
Finn appeared in the doorway moments later, drawn by something in Zac’s tone. He took in the table, the categorization, the warning note on Ray’s dish.
“Oh, this is beautiful.” Finn moved closer, examining their system with obvious appreciation. “You’ve got Ray’s brownies in the danger zone. That’s just accurate labeling.”
“We called it the bwave end,” Marie supplied. “For bwave people.”
“The brave end.” Finn grinned at Lincoln. “I love it. Absolutely love it.”
“Should we rearrange before the others see?” Lincoln asked. The question was genuine—he wasn’t certain of the social implications of publicly ranking family members’ baking abilities.
Finn and Zac exchanged a look.
“Oh, hell no,” Zac said. “Anyone who’s been in this family longer than fifteen seconds knows exactly where Ray’s desserts belong on that table.”
“Charlie might take offense,” Finn pointed out. But he was still grinning.
“Charlie’s cookies could be used for home defense. She knows.” Zac clapped Lincoln on the shoulder. “Leave it. This is the most logical thing anyone’s ever done at one of these gatherings.”
They left it.
Over the next hour, Lincoln watched the family interact with his system. Bear studied the table, located Joy’s tart at the excellence end, and shot Lincoln a knowing look.
“Smart,” was all he said.
Theo grabbed something from the middle section without comment. Derek selected items exclusively from the right side, clearly aware of the ranking system even if no one had explained it.
The brave end remained largely untouched.
Until Ray herself approached.
Lincoln tensed. Aunt Ray was formidable—small and silver-haired but with a presence that suggested she could end you with household objects if necessary. Her reputation with a crossbow was legendary. Her reputation in the kitchen was... also legendary, but differently.
She surveyed the table. Her gaze landed on her own contribution, clearly marked, positioned at the far left of the arrangement.
Lincoln waited for anger. Offense. Some form of retribution.
