But he did it anyway, and as soon as he heard Cooper’s excited voice coming from the kitchen, he couldn’t help but smile. He dropped his briefcase by the door and followed the sound of clanking dishes and the scent of something baking into the adjoining room.
“What are you two doing?” he asked, taking in the scene. His mother wore a fall floral apron covered in flour, which also dotted her hair, and Cooper had on a much too big white apron, his dark hair looking a bit like George Washington’s wig. There was a nearly empty large mixing bowl, a rolling pin and cutting board also covered with flour, and lots of other utensils littered on the counter.
“Uncle Casey!” Cooper shouted, popping down from the barstool where he’d been sitting and shooting across the room. He collided with his uncle
