Ollie was proud of the table he had set. He had grown up in a household where holiday meals were something his mother worked on for days beforehand. So he knew what constituted a good family meal.
This is a good family meal, he thought as he lighted the taper candles in their sterling silver holders. The table practically groaned from the weight of the food. Hank had wanted to help with setting the table and putting out the serving dishes, but Ollie had shooed him away, saying, “This year, this year only, I want to do it. For my family. Please let me.”
Hank had reluctantly joined Rose, Sophie, and their other guests in the living room and told him, “Okay, but Christmas is my turn.”
“Christmas is your turn. As long as you let me make the pizzelles and giugiuleni,” Ollie said, referring t
