Page 48

THIRTY-SIX

AMOS

With my hands on my hips, I studied the folding table Dad had set up in my parents’ dining room that was full of sweet and savory snacks. I picked up the tray of frosted sugar cookies Mom made and swapped it for the dish of chocolate fudge Sage brought.

“Dude, you’re freaking out. It’s going to be fine.” Sage bumped their shoulder against mine. “This is literally the easiest ‘meet the parents’ ever. You got off easy.”

I turned toward them and raised my eyebrows. “ Easy? How in the world do you come to that conclusion?” Okay, so maybe my voice had gone a little hysterical.

“They already know you and love our family. What could go wrong?”

“Don’t worry, kiddo. Joe’s been here plenty of times.” Dad slapped my back between my shoulder blades. The Santa hat he’d been wearing since I was young was looking a little worse for wear, even for something that lived in a box three hundred and sixty-four days a year.

The Brewers were expected to arrive soon for Christmas lunch. It was surreal to imagine they were coming over here. Both families. Together. On Christmas.

“Plenty of times? That’s going to take some getting used to,” I muttered.

Sage frowned. “You and me both. Anytime I had a friendly chat with Mickey at a festival planning meeting, I felt like a traitor.”

Our parents shared a look. We’d had a long family talk over coffee earlier.

Sage was going to need some time to adapt to the revelation about the rivalry since they were the last to know.

I felt terrible for not clueing them in.

I’d offered to pick them up on the way to our parents, which gave us a chance to talk privately.

They said they weren’t upset at all and wouldn’t have told me if the roles had been reversed, and if anything, they were relieved they didn’t have to carry on some rivalry legacy when they took over.

When the doorbell rang, I nearly jumped out of my socks. Reindeer socks I’d found in my stocking, courtesy of Santa, of course.

“I’ll get it!” I called when I was halfway to the front door. Before I pulled it open, a fresh wave of nerves rushed through me.

“You going to answer it or keep staring at the door?” Sage teased.

I yanked it open and laughed at the matching sweaters Mickey, Ingrid, Joe, and Mickey’s grandparents wore.

“Grandma was feeling nostalgic for returning to a climate where she could bundle up, so we all got gifts.” Mickey’s lips twitched as his eyes danced with mirth.

His grandparents wore Santa and Mrs. Claus sweaters, and the other three had elves on theirs. They were tacky, and I loved everything about them.

“I wish I had one.”

Grandma Brewer held out a bag to me with the same mischievous smile as her grandson. “I was hoping you’d say that. Merry Christmas, sweetheart. There’s one in there for your sibling too.”

My eyes stung as I tried to keep the emotion in check. “Thank you. That’s so kind.” I stepped back to let them in and noticed my family had formed a receiving line.

The next few minutes were a flurry of greetings and introductions, since Sage didn’t really know Ingrid or Mickey’s grandparents, and Mickey didn’t know my grandparents.

After I changed into the sweater, Mickey kissed me like we hadn’t woken up in each other’s arms only hours ago. We’d cuddled in bed and realized neither of us had gotten the other a gift and decided to plan a weekend getaway together as a joint gift. I couldn’t wait.

“Talk about things that’ll need some getting used to,” Dad said with a warm smile.

My cheeks burned. I wasn’t sure my parents had ever seen me have PDA with anyone.

Joe clapped his hands. “Let’s watch Good Morning, USA ! I’ve been waiting all day .”

Everyone rushed to the living room where Sage and I had set out additional chairs for the extra guests less than half an hour ago. It was tough to squeeze everything in alongside the towering Christmas tree.

Our families could use some tips on subtlety because the only two remaining seats were on the loveseat.

Mickey shook his head and chuckled as he sat and stretched his arm across the back of the couch. If our families were going to be this cool, then I’d stop feeling weird about it. I tucked my legs under me and snuggled beneath Mickey’s arm to soak up his warmth and comfort.

“Aren’t they so darling?” Pop Pop asked before sighing.

“They are,” Mickey’s grandma agreed.

Dad launched the Good Morning, USA recording on their DVR. It was special that we were all getting to watch it together.

“Mom said it starts an hour and thirteen minutes in,” Mickey said.

“Did she tell you how it was?” Joe asked.

Mickey shook his head. “She wouldn’t say a word, but she recorded it too, so we can watch it when Amos and I go over there for dinner.” Mickey turned his head and smiled at me.

I was excited to join Mickey’s mom’s side of the family for Christmas dinner. She’d been so kind this morning when Mickey called to ask if I could join him tonight. It was hard to believe we’d run into Mom and her only two weeks ago. So much had changed since then.

Dad fast-forwarded.

“There! You passed it!” Mom shouted.

Dad waved her off. “Relax. I’ll rewind.” He hit the button one too many times, so it jumped back too far. Typical Dad.

“Now we’re heading to a charming town in Vermont called Maplewood.

Theresa, can you confirm for us that the maple syrup there is, indeed, delicious?

” Lena Lee, one of the most recognizable faces in national news and television, stood next to Theresa in front of a fireplace with stockings hanging—each with the name of a different Good Morning, USA anchor.

Theresa pulled the stocking with her name on it off the fireplace. “I absolutely can.” She pulled a bottle of Moon Meadows Maple Syrup from Jason’s family’s farm out of the stocking. “Each member of our studio audience will be able to do the same. There’s a bottle of this in your stockings too!”

The audience cheered.

Theresa smiled at the audience. “Maplewood, an inclusive community that boasts itself as Vermont’s queerest town, was full of charm, community spirit, and secrets.”

“Secrets?” Lena’s perfectly plucked eyebrows rose. “Do tell.”

“I’ll do even better. I’ll show you.” They both turned toward a large screen.

A series of video clips filmed around Maplewood played on the screen with a voiceover from Theresa. It showed the covered bridge, the old paper mill, a nighttime shot of the lit tree in Maplewood City Park, and bundled people walking through fluffy snowflakes along Maple Street.

“Maplewood is the kind of town you expect to find in a Hallmark movie with its quaint downtown and love for community festivals. Many people born there choose to never leave and end up raising the next generations of Maplewoodians.”

The camera panned to Theresa standing outside of Sparky’s.

“We’re on national TV!” Dad yelled.

“Shh! I can’t hear what she’s saying,” Pop Pop chided.

Mickey’s shoulders bounced with silent laughter.

“This diner has been in the same family for generations. Named after its original proprietor, Sparky Flynn, Sparky’s Diner runs out of an old rail car.”

The footage shifted to shots inside the diner with the din of chatter in the background, then panned to an older man in a green hat that read Team Sparky’s in block letters, who laughed at a table with three other guys.

“I’ve been coming to Sparky’s since I was a kid. Now I get to bring my grandkids here for pancakes on the weekends. I’m Team Sparky’s, all the way,” he said.

“You heard that right. Team Sparky’s. When there’s one team, there’s usually an opponent. In Maplewood, that’s Red’s Restaurant,” Theresa said.

“Boo, hiss,” Mom teased.

Mickey’s family laughed freely. Mickey and I shot each other what-alternate-universe-are-we-in looks.

“This is Red’s. Fittingly, it sits at the opposite end of Maple Street in downtown Maplewood.” The footage changed to Theresa sitting at the Red’s counter.

After Mickey shared meaningful smiles with his family, I rubbed my palm on his chest. This was so surreal.

I’d never actually been inside of Red’s.

I’d seen photos, of course, and peeped in through the windows once or twice, but it was completely charming.

Descriptions of it being shabby and outdated couldn’t be more wrong.

I absolutely adored the retro vibe. Sure, it could use a bit of work, but only things that would keep it in that fantastic style.

“If history is to be believed, Sparky and Red were best friends who ran a food stall together to feed workers at the paper mill nearly a century ago. They planned to open a diner together, but as sometimes happens between best friends, there was a falling out.”

Theresa stood in the Sparky’s dining room, facing a pair of women. “Do you know what happened between Sparky and Red?”

One of the women glanced around like she was about to spill a secret. “I heard it was because Sparky decided to open the diner on his own, so Red did the same.”

“No, it’s because Red stole Sparky’s maple pie recipe,” the other woman said.

“I asked a lot of people about the feud’s origin, and the local historian at the Maplewood Paper Mill Museum and Historical Society suggested it had something to do with a disagreement over a contract clause when ironing out their diner partnership.

What’s the fun in that? Most people speculated it had to do with one stealing the other’s pie recipe.

” Camera footage showed pies in the cases at both diners and people at last night’s dinner, some in red and others in green, enjoying their slices.

Historic photos of my great-grandfathers came on screen.

“But I learned something else. Sparky and Red started a wonderful tradition. They made sure everyone in Maplewood had access to a warm meal on Christmas Eve. In honor of Maplewood’s seventy-fifth Holiday Hoopla festival, the town decided to honor them by hosting a community Christmas Eve dinner.

There are nearly five hundred people here to celebrate the holiday together.

Businesses all over town joined forces to cook enough food for an army with a menu inspired by the food Sparky and Red used to cook. ”

As the footage showed happy families enjoying dinner last night, Mickey kissed my temple. I dropped my head on his shoulder and basked in the pride over what we’d accomplished.

“Sparky’s and Red’s children, grandchildren, and now great-grandchildren continued the tradition of feeding the people of Maplewood.

” As Theresa spoke, the screen showed candid footage of our families.

Then it switched to our dads and grandfathers standing behind the microphone.

“Three generations of diner royalty attended the dinner last night. A dinner organized by the youngest of each family, Mickey from Red’s and Amos from Sparky’s. ”

I gasped at the candid footage of Mickey and me standing close and laughing. It wasn’t Mickey dipping me into a kiss, but an intimate shot of us catching a moment outside the kitchen among the chaos last night.

“What started as a falling out between best friends three generations ago turned into a rivalry embraced by the people of Maplewood.” Clips of people wearing Team Red’s and Team Sparky’s gear played over Theresa’s voice.

“But this is also a story about community, caring, and most of all, love.” As Theresa said the last part, footage of Mickey dipping me played to the sound of booming cheers.

“Are we kissing on national television?” Mickey sounded like he didn’t believe his own words.

“You guys are going to get teased for years.” Sage laughed.

The segment ended and Theresa and Lena were back on screen.

“There’s nothing I love more than romance at Christmas,” Lena said. “Thank you for this wonderful story, Theresa. Next up, we talk with Franklin about recycling gift wrapping.”

I wiped a tear falling down Mickey’s cheek after swiping one off my own. The only sound in the room was the commercial playing on the television.

“They didn’t talk about how good our milkshakes are,” Joe joked as he wiped his eyes. “This was special to watch together. We have you boys to thank for that.”

“On that note, we have a gift for you.” Mom walked over to the Christmas tree and retrieved a gift bag tucked behind it.

Mickey and I shared a confused look before I straightened and accepted the bag from her. It had some heft. Something flat and solid. As I removed the tissue paper, I saw a framed printout of a Maplewood Matters story dated yesterday, with a picture of Mickey and me kissing.

Mickey tilted his head back and laughed. “Of course that made it on the blog.”

“I think it’ll look great on your gallery wall,” I said with a teasing smile.

Mickey’s smile softened. “I know just the spot.”

“I thought about framing the one about us carrying Mickey’s cheese,” Dad teased.

“Too soon, Ian. Jesus.” Joe laughed.

It would take a while to get used to Dad and Joe being friends.

Joe cleared his throat and glanced at Ingrid before looking at Mickey. “About that. I’m revisiting the menu in the new year, and I’d like to rewrite it with you. Permanent menu items with your product. I want you to make the diner yours. Sometimes change is a good thing.”

I gave Mickey an encouraging leg squeeze while waiting for his move.

“Dad, let’s go get that cheese plate ready.”

“You’ve got this,” I whispered. 'Tis the season for doing hard things and making changes for the better.