Abe was responsible, and having him teach random things like how to braid a pony’s mane worked for both Abe’s hand dexterity and Mona’s need to be useful. She loved all the animals so much, and if Lake and Ben didn’t insist on her schooling—as unofficial as it was, although they were using some real materials—we would’ve only seen her at mealtimes.
The kids folded into the family effortlessly, like they’d always been there.
That only contrasted with how I felt about going to Pennsylvania for Thanksgiving. My own family didn’t care about the holidays or rather spending them together, and I knew Ben’s dad didn’t want me there, but his mom insisted.
So that was how we ended up standing behind the door I’d last seen when I was sixteen.
I held a cooler of Cook’s famous pies in my hands and tried not to twitch with nerves.
The door opened and Mrs. Harries beamed at us.
“Look at you two! Oh, please come in!” she stepped back, and we went inside.
She immediately hugged Ben tightly, and I couldn’t help but smile when I saw how much Ben had missed his mom. Then she turned to me and grabbed me, hugging me just as tightly.
“Oh, River!” Her voice shook at my name. “I’m so sorry you—”
“No, absolutely not, Mrs. Harries,” I replied quickly as I hugged her. “None of this was ever your fault.”
“But if I hadn’t—”
“You were traumatized, which led to mental health issues that you couldn’t foresee. What Mr. Harries did is on him.” I stepped back. “Ben and I have talked about the past at length, Mrs. Harries.”
She wiped her eyes and looked dubious. “If you’re sure.”
I gave her a genuine smile. “I promise.” To take attention from her blowing her nose, I lifted the cooler. “We bring pies from our very own private chef.”
Her double take was hilarious, and Ben cracked up.
“Yourwhat?”
She gestured toward the kitchen, and I walked after her and Ben, who was explaining the need for a private chef at the rescue.
Not that we couldn’t deal without Cook, because we could and we had, but it was nice having someone who enjoyed cooking, was good at it, and had adaptability to do it every day.
“So, here’s the goodies Cook sent.” I lifted the cooler onto the counter and opened it. “Blueberry, cherry, and pecan pies.” I carefully lifted them out one by one, then pulled out the last thing. “And homemade gingerbread cookies.”
Mrs. Harries’ eyes shone with excitement. “Really?”
“I remembered you loved them,” I said nonchalantly. “Now, Mrs. Harries, I know your husband is allergic to ginger—”
“Which doesn’t matter, because right at this moment he’s not living in the house, so I can eat all the ginger I want.” Her tone was pointed, and then she made grabby hands at the pastry box of cookies while smiling widely.
I handed it over and glanced at Ben. He looked a bit surprised, but then quickly seemed to process the information.
It was clear he wanted to ask her to elaborate, but he didn’t for some reason. Instead, he walked to the fridge and opened the door. “River, hand me those pies. I think I can just about make them fit here.”
While his mother crunched on gingerbread, giggling like a schoolgirl, we stashed the pies.
“Now, Mrs. Harries, how about something to drink with those?” I grinned at her when she made a delighted sound when she found one shaped like Christmas bells. The piping work was awesome, all Rey’s doing which I would tell her after I got her something to drink.
“Oh, please call me Cecilia.” She waved her hand dismissively. “And please, a glass of milk would be wonderful.”
I nodded. “One milk coming up, Cecilia.”
She giggled again, and the way Ben looked at me as he handed me the milk made my heart do a double jump.
“I love you,” he mouthed to me. “So, so much.”
