He arrived promptly at five P.M. When I opened the door, he stood there with a huge peach-colored poinsettia.
“Merry Christmas, Whitney,” he said, his face ruddy from the cold.
“Come in! Merry Christmas to you. What a gorgeous plant! I’ve never seen that color before.” I took the poinsettia and set it in front of the window that paralleled the door. Then after helping him with his coat and putting it in the foyer closet, I hugged him. He hugged back. I felt small when he put his arms around me, but it was so good I didn’t want him to let go. Not wanting to push things too much, however, I stood back.
“It’s good to have you here, my friend. The roast will come out in about forty-five minutes, and it will need to set a while before we carve it. I’ve got broccoli which I’ll zap, the gravy
