He set down the coffee and took off his coat. She watched him pull the sweater over his wide chest.
“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” Cherry said.
Tom smiled a little. “Okay... Gingerbread, butter cookies, cheese balls...”
“I’m waiting to do the Jell-O after we get there.”
“Pastieri... tablecloths... Do you have your presents?”
“I’ll grab the rest.”
“And I’ve got the squash casserole.”
“We’re ready,” Cherry said.
Tom huffed out a dry laugh. “Are we?”
He picked up the casserole dish, in its handmade quilted carrier, and Cherry went for her coat and the laundry basket of gifts. She always bought gifts for her mom, one of her sisters, and two of her nieces and nephews. (They drew names at Thanksgiving.)
When they got out on the porch, Tom took the basket and said, “Wait here. I’ll help you down the steps.”
“I’m fine.”
“Your shoes are reckless.”
“My shoes are really cute,” Cherry said, waiting on the top step. “I have boots in the car if I need them.”
Tom came back for her, his hand on her elbow as she walked down the steps, and hovering near her elbow as she walked to the car. He opened the passenger door for her. She hadn’t even told him he could drive.
They were both quiet on the way to Honny’s. “White Christmas,” Cherry said unnecessarily, looking out the window.
Tom only hummed.
When they were almost there, he asked, “Do they know I’m coming?”
“Yeah,” Cherry said.
He looked pale. His lips were tense. “Did you tell them we’re not... that it doesn’t mean...”
Cherry clenched her teeth. She swallowed. “Yeah, of course. I told them that I invited you. And that we’re not fighting.”
He threw her a concerned look. “I guess that’s true.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Go figure.”
Tom dropped Cherry off right in front of the house. “Could you wait for me?” he asked.
“Tom, I’m fine. I’ll walk like a penguin.”
“No, I just...” He squinted one eye. “Could you wait for me? To walk in?”
“Oh,” she said. “Yeah.”
She did wait. Holding on to the hood of someone’s SUV. Tom parked the car and grabbed as much as he could carry in one arm. Cherry hadn’t taken anything—because she really might need both hands to get up to the house, these shoes were idiotic—and because she was already taking Tom’s arms for granted. Tom’s endless, unspoken willingness to be helpful.
He took her elbow as she climbed the stairs from the driveway, and then again when she stepped up to the porch.
She glanced up at him when they got to the door. He looked like he was at his own arraignment.
