Chapter 3
Baily was up so fast, Del nearly rolled down the porch steps. “Ginger! What?”
Squirrel.
That was all there was to my interruption and the male bonding that day. That was all there was to Christmas, too, save for hanging the wreaths and getting the trees to stand upright.
“Do we decorate them tonight?” Del asked later, as he and Baily sat in the living room, across from the biggest one, each with a dinner plate in his lap, an hour or so after another shelter visit.
“Tomorrow. That’s what the advent calendar will say.”
“What else does Grandmother usually write?”
“The usual stuff,” Baily explained between bites of mashed potatoes, turkey, and gravy. “Shopping, wrapping, lights and garlands…Some say, ‘Do a good deed.’ There are a lot of those, actually, some with other things
