Jack silently laughed at him and finished the dishes, then headed into the parlor to change.
Morgan went into his room to lay his blue robe aside and find a sweatshirt. By the time he came out, Jack was already downstairs. Because he was efficient. And smart. And everything, and Morgan was going to tell him so.
Except when he had thumped his way down the stairs, prepared to grab his coat and hustle as fast as he could across the parking lot to the truck, he was struck into silence.
Jack had changed into dark blue jeans, the new brown boots showing beneath the hem. He was all zipped up in the sage green parka, the dark green fake fur around his head making his eyes even greener than they had been only moments ago.
Morgan took a moment to catch his breath. Then, without a word, he walked up to Jack, cupped his face, pushing dark hair away from his eyes, and kissed him. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” he whispered.
“No,” Jack said, as calmly as if they were discussing whether they were out of butter. “This is the first time.” He sounded as though he expected there to be more times, and he was looking forward to them.
“First of many,” Morgan confirmed, making a promise in his heart to never go another day without saying nice things to Jack. Nice things about Jack, to Jack. And to sing his praises to everyone in town.
He was smiling as they hustled into the truck and still smiling as Jack drove slowly to Mabel’s house.
Jack parked in front, along the sidewalk, and got out, coming around to the passenger side so he could help Morgan if he needed it. But Morgan waved him away, and Jack headed up the walkway—a walkway that surely needed shoveling.
Inside, Morgan could hear Mister Rocket barking, announcing to Mabel that there were strangers approaching and she ought to be on the alert.
But as Jack went up the three steps, his hand raised to press the doorbell, the barking changed to something more excited and perhaps welcoming. Soft yips instead of full-throated sounds of alarm.
Mabel opened the door and pushed open the storm door, which Jack took from her. She greeted him warmly, but her smile fell away when she acknowledged Morgan with a mere flick of her gaze.
“You might as well come in out of the cold,” she told him after a moment’s hesitation.
She didn’t sound very welcoming—to him, at any rate—but he needed to talk to her just the same. Slowly, he went up the steps, thump, step, thump, like a single-minded monster from an old black-and-white movie.
“Hey, Mabel,” Jack said quickly, “Morgan has something he’d like to say.”
Jack had broken the ice for him, looking out for him like he always did.
“That’s fine, dear.” Mabel reached up and kissed Jack’s cheek, then stepped back, opening the door wide so they both could come in. “Hurry now, and don’t let Mister Rocket out. He’s been a handful, now that the sun is shining.”
Jack stepped through the small foyer and crouched down to pet Mister Rocket so Morgan could come in and Mabel could close the door.
“You boys take off your boots and hang up your coats. I’ll make hot chocolate.” She paused and looked at each of them in turn, sternly, like a grade-school teacher. “That is, if anyone wants it.”
“I do, ma’am,” Jack said.
“I’d like some, too, please,” Morgan said, stomping the snow from his galoshes.
While Mabel bustled in the kitchen, Morgan sat in one of the easy chairs in the living room and watched Jack play with Mister Rocket before finally picking him up to hold him on his lap so they could exchange soft snuffles.
Jack looked so happy with his arm around the dog that Morgan couldn’t stop staring and almost missed that Mabel had finished in the kitchen and was now standing next to him with a mug outstretched. Like she might rather want to dump the contents over his head.
He took it from her with a word of thanks, then watched her hand a mug to Jack and gently but firmly tell Mister Rocket to get down from his lap. Morgan knew he shouldn’t put off his apology, and in any case, he needed Mabel’s goodwill to help him resolve whatever the ledger was about. So he took a deep breath and began.
“Mabel,” he said, “I should be standing when I say this, but my knees would give out.”
She stopped in the doorway from the living room to the kitchen, turning to look at him as if she wasn’t sure he wouldn’t bite.
“I’m sorry I upset you and worried you, letting Jack go out that day when it was so cold.”
“You didn’tletme,” Jack said.
Morgan glanced at him. Jack’s jaw was stiff, and he was scowling.
“Ididlet you,” Morgan said.
