“Ginny,” Georgia tried again, pulling her sister’s half of the covers off completely. “You’re gonna miss Mama’s scones. I’m not saving you any… VIRGINIA!”
Ginny groaned slightly, made a snow angel in the sheets, and turned her head full of tangled curly locks in the opposite direction, revealing an embarrassingly impressive drool spot where her mouth had been.
Giving up, Georgia did what any older sister would do. She snapped a quick picture of the sleeping beauty’s wide open mouth—like a catfish waiting to be caught—jumbled the sheets into a ball, then threw them onto her sister in a tousled lump before quickly readying herself for the day.
Her simple, gray Good Start Coffee t-shirt and jeans made fashion choices stress-free on days she opened the store, and her unruly, curly blonde hair, so similar to Ginny’s wild mane, was pulled into a messy bun.
Georgia clambered down the wooden stairs leading from her loft to the store’s kitchen, finding her parents wrapped in a hug that looked more like a dance as they swayed to a music only their ears could hear. She hung back for a moment, embracing the sight that could have so easily been taken if things had gone differently three years before. If her father hadn’t survived the heart attack.
“We know you’re there, Georgia Snow. Your heel walkin’ could wake the dead,” her mother called out, still wrapped in her father’s arms.
Joan Remillard had always called her eldest daughter by her first and middle name. Georgia had been born in the middle of a rare Southern snowfall in early February. Her parents found it fitting—much to Georgia’s chagrin in her teen years—to name her not only after the state she’d been born in but also in honor of the weather pattern gracing the day of her birth. Quirky but sweet, in adulthood Georgia tried to embrace the name she’d been given.
Georgia rolled her eyes but couldn’t resist the smile that stretched across her face. She took the last step down into the kitchen and wrapped her arms around them both, crushing her mother between them.
“Good morning, y’all. It smells amazing down here.”
“Mornin’ Georgia,” her father said as he pulled his wife and daughter tighter to him. “We better get all the squeezes in now. Your brother and sister are fixin’ to be here any minute. Ginny still sleepin’?”
“Not even my heel-walkin’ could get her moving… A herd of elephants couldn’t wake that girl. She’s comatose.”
Her mom giggled. “You get proof?”
“Of course!” Georgia squeezed tighter then released them when she heard the jangle of keys in the front door and the sounds of her siblings’ gentle arguing filled the previously peaceful space.
“Your breath is rank, by the way,” Caroline hissed.
Dakota deadpanned back in a not-so-silent whisper they all could hear, “Mmmm. How I’ve missed you,sweetCaroline.”
“Y’all hush up and come in here for some breakfast before we open up,” their mother chided with a grin across her face. She pulled away from Georgia and her husband to greet her other kids with open arms.
Caroline pushed through the kitchen’s swinging door first, her rich, wavy brown hair tucked neatly behind her ears and a smile on her face—never truly ill-affected by their younger brother. “Good morning,” she chimed as she skipped to their mama, hugging her tight.
“Mornin’, honey.” Their mama squeezed Caroline before releasing her daughter to cuddle up to the Colonel.
She planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Hey, Daddy.”
He tucked her under his chin. “Mornin’, Carolina. You sure are chipper today.”
“Always a good day when it starts with a fight over the bathroom with your baby brother.”
Dakota sneered. “Always a good morning whenyoutake over the bathroom for hours to primp.”
“I don’t primp.” She poked him in the stomach, and Dakota tried to worm away. “Andyoushouldn’t wait until the last minute to wake up.”
It had always been like this with Dakota and Caroline who were only fifteen months apart and complete opposites. Caroline looked impossibly tiny standing between the hulking figures of their dad and Dakota, but she always managed to put Dakota in his place. She spit her tongue out at him, a less than mature approach than her usual, and he responded by lightly pulling her hair.
“Alright, alright. That’s about enough of that,children.” The Colonel laughed and nudged Dakota. “Go give your mama some love and quit pickin’ at your sister.”
“Tell me those are cinnamon scones I smell?” Dakota wrapped his mother in a bearhug, lifting her much smaller frame off the ground. “You look beautiful today, Mama.”
“And how doIlook, son? Am I just as radiant as I was after eating that turkey dinner last night?” Their dad rubbed his belly and wiggled his eyebrows playfully.
“Colonel,” Dakota saddled up close to their dad again, placing his hands on both his shoulders seriously, “you’ve never looked better.” With his hands still in place, he turned his head back to their mom with a mischievous grin. “But, seriously. Cinnamon scones?”
“Now, what kinda mama would I be if I didn’t make my baby’s favorite scone when he comes home from school once in a blue moon? A special occasion deserves a special breakfast.”
“Gee, Mom. Thanks,” Caroline pouted and pushed Dakota out of the way to hug Georgia. “But thisbabyactually likes almond scones. No big deal, though.”
