“Disney cats,” Cherry said.
Tom smiled a little. “Great theme. Once we get the pastieri going, I’ll roll out the gingerbread.”
“Okay,” she yawned.
He elbowed her. “No sleep till Brooklyn, baby—do you want me to make you some tea?”
She yawned again and laughed. “Yeah.”
Tom made tea. Tom rolled out the gingerbread dough. Tom sang along to “The Holly and the Ivy.” He looked big and cherubic. With his curly blond hair and rosy cheeks. Happier than she’d seen him in so long. He asked her if she wanted him to cut out the cat shapes, and she said yes.
“This’ll be a good game,” he said. “You’ll have to guess the character from the shape—even though they’re all gonna be shaped like cats.”
“Don’t forget Marie,” she said. “That’s Lily’s favorite.”
“Pfft. Like I was gonna forget Marie.” He picked up a knife and squinted down at the gingerbread dough.
“Or Berlioz,” she said.
“I’m not gonna forget Berlioz.”
“Or...”
Tom looked up at her. His eyes were sparkling. “Who forgot Toulouse?”
Cherry laughed. She yawned again. “I was going to say, ‘Or any of the other Aristocats.’?”
Cherry moved meat pies in and out of the oven. She made six special gluten-free pies for Joy and Jeff. She made royal icing. She watched Tom work, and picked all her favorite things off the charcuterie plate—the Marcona almonds and the honeycomb and the Brie. She leaned against the sink and tried to take the weight off her back. She tried not to get sleepy while they waited for the first pan of gingerbread cookies to bake and cool.
“What can I be doing?” Tom asked.
“You can take a breath.”
“I was breathing all day before I got here.”
She let him finish up the cheese balls and roll them in walnuts. There was no space in the kitchen, so he did it at the dining room table.
“You should decorate the cookies out here, Cherry, so you can sit down. And there’s more space.”
That was a good idea. Cherry took the icing out to the dining room. She’d start with a big bowl of white icing and mix the colors as she needed them.
The gingerbread was still cooling. Cherry stood at the dining room table and leaned forward on it, pillowing her head on her arms. “I’m getting too old for this.”
“You’re not old,” Tom said. “You just bite off more than you can chew.”
“I like a challenge,” she said sleepily. “It keeps me sharp.”
He poked her side and sang,“The old gray mare, she ain’t what she used to be.”He poked her hip.“Ain’t what she used to be.”
Cherry laughed into her forearms.
“Ain’t what she used to be.”
Tom rested his hand for just a second on her lower back, right where it hurt. Right where he knew it hurt. Then he walked back into the kitchen.
Cherry must have dozed off for a few minutes. On her feet.
When she opened her eyes, Tom had some cookies spread out on the table, and he was mixing some icing in primary colors. He made eye contact with her. “You okay?”
