Nate tucks three folding chairs under his left arm and walks into the kitchen doorway without another word.

I get up from my chair and pick up the empty bread platter to follow him into the kitchen.

Judy catches my wrist as I step past her seat, her face glowing with cheerful approval.

“You two never give us one day of worry, Emily,” Judy whispers, squeezing my fingers with a warm pat.

“Not one single day.”

“I know, Judy,” I say, stepping through the kitchen doorway just as Nate takes his first step down the dark basement stairs.

I stand by the kitchen counter, watching Nate’s bright red ears disappear into the shadows of the cellar steps, the metal chairs clanking softly against his knee.