Christmas dinner was a rowdy affair, the men joshing with each other and generally getting into the holiday spirit.
Liam and Jake had spent some time trying to coax the old furnace into firing, but it had stubbornly refused to cooperate. Because of the lack of heat, the dining table had been moved into the kitchen. It was a tight fit, but somehow Barry felt it was more homey. They were a family, maybe not one set in the traditional mold, but a family nonetheless. Liam was the father figure, and the rest his sons. Barry refused to cast himself as a daughter or worse yet, a wife.
“So, what’re we supposed to do with these things?” Jake asked, picking up the brightly colored paper tube next to his plate.
“Back in England we call them crackers.”
That raised a snicker from a couple of the
