Once everything was done, they sat down with their food on the barstools that lined one edge of the bilevel kitchen island. Lucas took a bite of his eggs and let out a sigh. “So, are all you McAllister witches good cooks?”
“Scrambled eggs aren’t that difficult, Lucas.”
“You’d be surprised. I may or may not have killed a pan or two in the pursuit of decent scrambled eggs.”
She chuckled. “Well, you do have to pay attention. As to your question, I have no idea, since I’m a long way from sampling everyone’s cooking. But I’ll admit that everything we put out at our Thanksgiving get-together is very good.”
Looking thoughtful, he remarked, “I’d wrangle an invitation from Angela, but she’s obviously staying put up here for Thanksgiving this year.”
“Well, you could go with me,” Margot said, su
