“HEY, SLEEPYHEADS,” MACEY SAID SOFTLY. “YOU GETTING UP TODAY?”
Harper opened her eyes, blinked at the bright sunlight streaming into her bedroom, and felt Keeper’s long body pressed against her blanket. After Harper had come to live with them—and Keeper realized she would be sleeping upstairs—he’d quickly overcome his fear of going up and down steps. “Yes, we’re getting up,” she said, stroking his velvety ears, “aren’t we, Keep?” The big dog yawned contentedly, stretched, and closed his eyes, and Harper laughed. “Well, I’m getting up,” she said, pushing off her blanket and covering him with it. He peeked out, shook it off, and hopped down the steps Ben had made for him to get on and off her bed.
“How’d you sleep?” Macey asked.
“Pretty good.”
“Ben made cinnamon buns before he left, and I just took them out of the oven.”
“Yum!” Harper said, smiling a genuine smile that surprised Macey. “Where did he go?”
“He went to meet the man whose house he just finished.”
“On Thanksgiving?”
“That’s what I said,” Macey said, laughing, “but he promised he’d be right back.”
“Okay,” Harper said, shuffling across the hall to the bathroom. When she came back, Macey had gone downstairs, but she’d left behind a pile of folded, clean laundry. Harper pulled a long-sleeve T-shirt from the pile—another one she’d picked out when they’d gone shopping with Maeve. Maeve had even gotten the same shirt in her size, too. Harper shook it open and read: “I HAVE RED HAIR BECAUSE GOD KNEW I SHOULD COME WITH A WARNING LABEL!” She smiled—she’d have to wear it the next time she saw Cora.
“Harp, you comin’?” Macey called up the stairs.
“Be right down,” she called back, pulling the shirt over her head.
She hopped down the stairs and found Keeper already at Macey’s feet, watching her every move. She followed his gaze and her own eyes grew wide. “Wow! That’s one big-ass turkey!” she said, admiring the twenty-two-pound bird Macey was stuffing, but when Macey looked up with a frown, Harper covered her mouth. “Oops! Sorry!”
Macey nodded and then saw her shirt and smiled.
“Like it?” Harper said, grinning.
“I do,” she replied, laughing. “It’s perfect.”
“Maybe Maeve will wear hers.”
“Maybe,” Macey said, making a mental note to text her sister. Then she gestured with a stuffing-filled spoon toward the cinnamon buns. “Want to spread the frosting on those?”
“Sure,” Harper said, reaching for a spatula. She spread the creamy white substance onto the sweet rolls and then watched, her mouth watering, as it melted and dripped down the sides.
“Yumm,” she murmured, licking the spatula.
“You should have one while they’re warm.”
Harper eagerly scooped one onto a plate. “Want one?”
“You bet,” Macey said. “I just want to finish this goopy job first.”
Harper eyed the turkey. “Cora says you have to wash your hands with hot, sudsy water anytime you touch eggs or raw meat so you don’t get sam-on-ella.”
Macey laughed. “And she would be right.”
Harper pulled up a stool to watch Macey work, took a bite of her cinnamon bun, and came away with a sugary grin. “How come you have such a big turkey?”
“Because there are a lot of people comin’ over.”
“There are?”
“Mm-hmm. My mom and dad, and Maeve and her boyfriend, Gage . . .”
“Do they have kids?”
“No, but Gage has a puppy . . . actually, I guess he’s more of a dog now, but he still acts like a puppy.”
“What’s his name?”
“Gus.”
Harper nodded thoughtfully. “How come you and Ben don’t have kids?”
Macey stopped what she was doing and looked up. Maybe it was because she was caught off guard by Harper’s directness, but she found herself being completely honest as she answered, “Ben and I have always wanted to have kids—we love kids, but I’ve had a lot of trouble carrying a baby, and I’ve had several miscarriages.” She paused. “Do you know what that is?”
“Is that when you lose a baby before it grows?”
Macey nodded, surprised by the awareness of such a young girl.
“I’m sorry,” Harper said softly.
“Thanks, Harper.”
“Is that why you’re getting into fostering?”
“Partly,” Macey said, still stuffing the turkey. “I also feel like it’s something that’s meant to happen.” Macey looked over, realized Harper was looking at her intently, and laughed. “Do you know what I mean?”
“I guess so,” Harper said. “Sometimes, you just sort of get this feeling that you’re s’posed to do something—or not do something—and you don’t know exactly where it’s coming from.”
“Exactly . . . but sometimes when I feel that way I wonder if it’s coming from my grandmother. She was such a special person—always willing to help people, always being the first to volunteer and even though she passed away a long time ago, I feel like, sometimes, she’s nudging me to do things.”
Harper nodded. “I know what you mean. Even though I was little when my mom died, I sometimes feel like she’s nudging me, too.”
Just then, there was a sound on the back porch, and Keeper scrambled to his feet and started barking. “It’s just me, silly,” Ben said, coming through the door. He looked at Harper. “Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence!”
Harper smiled.
“How come you don’t have the parade on?” he asked, turning on the TV on the counter.
“I forgot!” Macey said.
Harper frowned. “What parade?”
“The one-and-only Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade,” he said as the screen flickered on, revealing a tremendous Snoopy balloon floating down Sixth Avenue in New York City.
“Macey has a parade?” Harper teased, giggling.
“Yep! I have my very own parade,” Macey said as she washed her hands. As she dried them, she looked at Ben. “Soo . . . how’d it go?”
“Great!” Ben teased with a grin.
Macey frowned. “Great, he loved the house, or great, he paid you?”
“Both,” he said, patting his chest pocket.
“Nice,” she said. She always loved when Ben got final payment for a big job. “We have a lot to be thankful for,” she murmured as he pulled them both into a hug.
“Don’t forget Keeper and Big Mac,” Harper said, pulling them both down to include the happy-go-lucky retriever hopping around them and the cat who had just wandered into the warm kitchen.
“Yeah,” Ben said. “All Keeper’s thinking about is turkey!” And they laughed, knowing it was true. Finally, they stood, but Harper moved to Keeper’s bed, and pulled Big Mac onto her lap, and then Keeper moseyed over and tried to get on the bed, too.
“You’re so silly, Keep,” Macey said, laughing and pulling her phone out to take a picture. “Ben, get him to look up.”
Ben held a dog treat above Macey’s head, and Harper held on to him so he wouldn’t get up. “Stay here,” she whispered, and just as he turned and licked her cheek, Macey tapped her phone.
“Perfect,” she said, looking at the image.