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“It’s not a date night,” David grunted. “Both of you, all three of you, are free to join us.”

“No way. Female companionship is good for you. The last thing I want to do is interfere.” Birdie patted Harlow’s shoulder. “Do you want me to swing back by later, or can you make it on your own?”

“Eryn’s going to come by here first. We’ll head over together. I’m having groceries delivered today. What can I bring?”

“A salad sounds good.” Harlow and her aunt completed their dinner plans and Birdie left. The rear screen door slammed on her way out.

“That woman.” David threw his hands in the air. “She’s driving me nuts.”

“Aunt Birdie has a way of pushing your buttons.”

“Pushing my buttons with code red alerts, code black, you name it.”

“But she loves you. She loves us.”

“I know she does and I’m trying very hard to remember she could be enjoying her bucket list cruise around the world instead of slaving over a hot stove cooking breakfast in my kitchen.”

“Exactly.” Harlow excused herself and headed to her room. She took a nap and woke later, only to discover it was time to get ready for her physical therapy.

She threw on a pair of loose fitting shorts and a stretchy bright blue tank top before grabbing a pair of slip-on shoes on her way out.

Mort, her father’s pup who had stopped by to check on her, nudged the door open and stood waiting for Harlow to catch up.

They found her father in front of the kitchen stove, the top filled with pots and pans. “What are you making?”

“Guess.”

Harlow sniffed the air. “It smells delish, whatever it is.”

“I used the leftover bacon from breakfast to whip up one of your favorite dishes.”

“Chicken bacon ranch casserole,” Harlow and her father said in unison.

She licked her lips. “I haven’t had your casserole in years.”

“Then I’m glad I made it.”

“The dish isn’t for Lottie and your potluck, poker game night?” Harlow teased.

“Lottie likes it too. You’re just in time for a taste test.” He removed the casserole from the oven, grabbed two small bowls, and added a large scoop to each. “Not to brag, but this might be one of my best casseroles ever.”

I can’t wait to sample it.” Harlow watched her father carry the bowls to the table near the window.

The pup, who had been closely monitoring David’s movements, parked himself in the middle of the floor, hungrily eyeing the dish.

“I haven’t forgotten about you, Mort. I have a special treat.”

“Bacon?” Harlow asked.

“Mort can’t have bacon, but he can have this.” David sliced an apple and held out a piece. The pup promptly gobbled it up. He fed him a second slice and Harlow watched it disappear. “He’s the apple gobbler,” she joked.

“They’re one of his favorites.” David wagged his finger. “Enough for now. You can have another treat later.”

Mort ambled over to the table and plopped down a few feet away, waiting for Harlow and her father to have a seat.

“Mort is no dummy.”

“No, he’s not.” David grabbed a pitcher of tea and filled two glasses. “What time will your physical therapist be here?”