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Bren had gone from fighting for every wave and smile, to watching her sing in front of him like he was part of the family. What a difference four months made.

“Alright, this is the last batch,” A.J. said, closing the oven door.

He bent down to peer through the window at the Gingerbrens and cookie-cats. Bren was definitely more of a dog guy, but A.J. thought his biscuit selves looked extra happy next to the cats Holly had insisted on along with the standard cutout. But maybe that was just the effect of his Bren-tinted glasses.

“Looking good, Holly,” Bren said from his place at the table.

She beamed at him and went right back to decorating her biscuit. The red and green frosting she’d been working on for the last fifteen minutes was neat to a fault, but the white gumdrops she’d used as eyes gave it cataracts.

“Alright. Who told you guys it was OK to make the house smell this delicious?”

Dad had left his studio at last, following the scent of the generation’s old biscuit recipe.

“That’s my bad, Mr. Walker,” Bren said, adding a mop of red to the top of his last undecorated biscuit. “It’s tradition.”

“Well, I don’t know how it is at your place, but the tradition here is that all cookies must be taste-tested by Dad first.”

He walked towards the table, one hand rubbing his stomach as he made exaggerated smacking sounds with his lips.

“They’re for Christmas!” Holly said, wrapping her arms around her treats to shield them from the cookie tax.

“Exactly. We want to make sure they taste good before we give them to Santa.”

“I think Holly has us covered,” A.J. said, brushing the crumbs of her latest sample off her sweater. She giggled.

It was two days until Christmas. Bren was supposed to get his exam results before then. He knew they were doing him a favour by getting them to him before next term, but he’d wish they’d hurry up.

“Alright, where are they?” Dad said. “Don’t make me get Rudy involved.”

One of Rudy’s legs twitched where he lay, dead to the world with his belly facing the ceiling of his dog bed. Apparently, Dad’s cookie needs didn’t register as important just now.

“You can have one of mine,” A.J. said as Dad tried to work his way past Holly’s giggling full-body barrier.

Dad sighed and flopped like he’d lost all his bones from the waist up, and then shuffled towards the other side of the table.

“OK, but I bet it’s not going to taste as good.”

Dad reached out, palm up to take the inferior cookie from his son with an exaggerated frown on his face. His expression did a one eighty when Holly hopped off her chair and put a masterfully decorated Gingerbren in his hand.

“Thank you!” he cried out, running his hand along the royal icing she’d lovingly decorated it with. “I was only teasing, though. I can wait until Christmas if you want.”

“We need to test them for Santa,” she said, watching Dad with that hyper-focused stare of hers.

Dad didn’t need another invitation. He said thanks and bit the head off the biscuit.

“Oi!” Bren gave A.J.’s dad an affronted look.

But Dad was saved from Bren avenging the fallen biscuit by a beep from the oven.

“So, what have you kids got planned for the rest of the day?” Dad asked, crunching away like he hadn’t just committed a beheading.

“Movies!” Hollie said, pumping legs that didn’t reach the ground from her chair.

“Oh, yeah? If we wait till Mom comes back, we can all watch together.”

Holly cheered and went back to decorating her cookies with something less than her usual care.

“How about it, Bren? Up for your first Walker family movie night?”