Tom rang the doorbell, then let himself in. “Cherry?” he called up the stairs. “I’m going to take Stevie for a walk!”
“All right!” she called back.
The squash casserole was in the oven. The cookies were on platters on the kitchen island. Cherry had decided to wait and flip the Jell-O out of its mold at Honny’s house, so it wouldn’t slide around in the car.
She was still wrapping a gift for one of her nieces when Tom and Stevie got back. “That was a short walk!” she shouted from upstairs.
“I didn’t want to make you late!”
“I’ll be right down—I’m wrapping a present!”
“Did you bring down the tablecloths?”
“Yeah! On the dining room table!”
“I’ll start loading up the car!”
She heard him coming and going. She finished the gift. When she went downstairs, Tom was just coming in the door.
She saw his eyes widen when he saw her. She stopped on the staircase.
The corners of his mouth turned up. “You look... like the girl on the front of Target’s holiday sale circular.”
Cherry put her hand over her heart, pretending to feign delight. “That’s the nicest compliment you’ve ever given me.”
Tom laughed, softly. “Sorry,” he said, glancing down at himself. He was wearing another T-shirt and cargo pants. “I didn’t have time to shop.”
Cherry’s smile faded. “You could...” She glanced upstairs.
“No.” Tom shook his head. “A T-shirt’s fine, right?”
“Yeah,” Cherry said, “it’s fine.”
“Can you see if there’s still some kraft paper in the upstairs closet? With the wrapping paper?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that casserole ready to go?”
“Yep—the carrier’s in the drawer by the sink. And I made coffee.”
Tom nodded and headed for the kitchen. “My second choice after ‘girl on the Target circular’ was ‘Santa Claus’s high school sweetheart.’?”
Cherry smiled. “That also would have been good.”
She went upstairs to get the kraft paper. Then into her room, and to Tom’s dresser. She opened the bottom drawer and took out a navy fair-isle sweater with a bright geometric pattern banded across the shoulders.
When she came downstairs, he was in the kitchen. Drinking coffee and looking out the window above the sink.
He glanced over his shoulder at Cherry, then turned around.
She held out the sweater.
Tom looked down at her hands, like he wasn’t sure he was going to take it.
It was silly. This wasn’t a gift; it was his own sweater. If it wouldn’t have been a huge scene, Cherry would have brought all his clothes down. It was embarrassing now that she hadn’t given them to him.
“Thanks,” Tom said.
