Amber watched him.
Then she said quietly, “He’s different.”
“So are you.”
Amber smiled.
“So are you.”
Ruth raised an eyebrow.
“I am seventy-nine. Change is expensive.”
Amber laughed again.
Dinner began.
People passed bowls.
Someone asked for more gravy.
Calvin complained that Marcus had cut the biscuits too large.
Marcus defended himself.
Loretta reached across Amber for the hot sauce, stopped, and asked first.
Tiny things.
Ruth noticed all of them.
Near the end of dinner, a young dishwasher named Tasha stepped hesitantly into the dining room.
She was nineteen.
It was her first Christmas away from home.
Ruth waved her over.
“You ate?”
Tasha shook her head.
“After cleanup.”
Ruth pointed to the empty chair beside Marcus.
“No.”
Tasha froze.
Ruth looked at Marcus.
He understood.
He pulled out the chair.
“Sit.”
Tasha glanced toward the kitchen.
“But I’m working.”
“So was I,” Ruth said.
The girl hesitated.
Amber reached for a clean plate.
For one brief second, Ruth’s eyes followed her hand.
Amber noticed.
They both did.
Amber’s expression softened.
Then she filled the plate.
