The level of dirt on Ollie's boots and trousers implied otherwise, but I let it slide.
"Take off your shoes," I commanded. "If you track mud through the front hall, you're on mop duty forever."
The group peeled away, dragging boots and laughter into the laundry room.
Beth dabbed at her eyes, then squared up. "I should grab the rest of the stuff from the car."
"I'll help," I offered, but she waved me off.
"I need the air. If I don't move, I think my heart will explode."
She hustled out, leaving Gerty and me alone in the mess.
Without waiting, I grabbed her arm and hissed, "We need to dial it back. We're way overdoing it."
Gerty even tried out a "mild enthusiasm" face, but it looked more like she'd just invested in municipal bonds.
I shook my head. "We'll work on it."
Beth returned, this time with a box bigger than her torso and a duffel bag that looked like it had survived a horror movie.
We rallied around her, helping unpack. Toothbrushes, toys, one emergency stuffed animal for each kid, and a Ziploc baggie full of homemade granola bars. In the upstairs bathroom, the girls stashed their hair ties and unicorn toothpaste, while Ollie's bath ducks took over the sink.
As we pulled towels from the linen closet, an engine rumbled outside.
I didn't even have to look. The thrum said it all. Chance. We traipsed down to the kitchen in time for him to knock on the back door, polite as could be, then step in, voice pitched apologetically. "Sorry I'm late. Mom wanted to run through something about the bakery's Christmas menu. It took longer than I thought."
He kicked off his boots, scanned the entryway, and promptly locked on Gerty.
Gerty, for her part, just stood and stared. One eyebrow went up, but the rest of her face stayed smooth as butter. I could see the calculation, cataloguing the width of his shoulders, his tan skin, and the way he took in every detail without missing a beat.
"Gerty, this is Chance Meyer," I said, hoping they liked him. "Chance, meet Gretchen Maddox, the tornado who kept me alive through college."
He offered his hand, which Gerty shook without blinking. "Nice to finally meet you. Tash has, uh, mentioned you a few times."
Chance grinned. "Mostly good, I hope."
"That depends on the day," Gerty fired back.
I knew instantly they'd get along.
Beth walked in and beamed at all of us. She was still riding the high of being free of her husband. "You must be Chance." She grabbed his hand and pumped it up and down, then leaned toward me to hiss, "He's hot!"
My face burned, but within seconds, the kitchen filled again. The kids, now reassembled, with only minimal fighting over who got the blue mug, parked themselves around the table. Mere warmed milk,Fifi ran the hot chocolate mix like a pro, and Beth and I cleaned the inevitable mess.
Chance waded in, totally at ease. He knelt to high-five Ollie, complimented Penny's sparkly hair clips, and smiled at Liz, who'd gone shy.
Gerty caught my eye, mouthed, "He's a total dad."
I nearly spat cocoa.
As mugs got distributed, Fifi took control of the kitchen.
"Extra marshmallows for everyone," she declared. "And don't worry, I've been told that sugar high is a family tradition."
Gerty snorted, scooting in at the end of the table. "You know, I might have to start a new Christmas tradition myself, now that I'm a working woman in this fine town."
I nearly choked on my own drink. "Wait, what?"
