Brothers in Blue A Bryson Family Christmas - Jeanne St. James Page 0,36
sure this will be your last grandchild?”
He lifted one thick salt and pepper eyebrow. “Are you having another one?”
“No!” she shouted way too quickly.
Ron grinned. “Didn’t think so. Amanda’s done. I doubt Carly will push to adopt another baby. Then the only ones left are Teddy and Adam. Any kids they have won’t technically be grandchildren.”
“Maybe not technically, but close enough.”
Ron lifted and dropped one of his broad shoulders. “True. But my brother will be that child’s true grandfather.”
Leah reached out and patted Ron’s hand. “You’re everyone’s grandfather, Dad. Including Greg.”
A wistful smile crossed the older man’s face. “That boy...”
“Did you find the tree you were looking for?”
He smirked. “We found something.”
Heat crept into Leah’s cheeks. “We won’t discuss that.”
“Good idea. But yes, the kids helped pick the perfect tree.”
“Did they get it decorated?”
“We got it set up and the decorations down from the attic, but we’ll get them to decorate it after the parade to keep them busy.”
“We appreciate you taking them.”
“I saw that.” Ron winked at her.
“We’re not talking about that!”
“Oh, that’s right.”
The sidewalks were filling up with people, either standing or setting up chairs along the parade route through the center of town.
Ron cleared his throat and, luckily, changed the subject. “At least it stopped snowing.”
“I hope it snows tomorrow. Just flurries. It’ll make the day even more special if it does.”
Leah spotted Mary Ann making her way through the crowd with Greg and Hannah on her heels. The Brysons always staked out the sidewalk in front of the salon every year to watch the parade. It was tradition.
Her mother-in-law stopped in front of her and held out a paper cup. “Hot chocolate.”
“A hot toddy would be better.”
Marc’s mother made a face.
“I’m kidding, Mom.” Leah muttered under her breath, “But not really.”
“I heard that!” Mary Ann exclaimed as she got Greg settled into his seat with a blanket next to Ron and she took the seat on the other side of Greg. Hannah dropped into the folding chair on the other side of Leah with dramatic flair.
Leah took a sip of the rich hot cocoa and mmm’d, then leaned forward to ask Mary Ann, “Where are the boys?”
“They found Marc walking the crowd. They’re with him doing foot patrol, pretending they’re police officers. He’s going to herd them back here shortly.”
“I’m sure Oliver doesn’t want to miss his father riding in the parade.”
“Dad’s in it every year,” Hannah announced, with two gloved hands wrapped around her own cup. “I’m sure if Liver misses it, he can see it next year.”
“I thought you weren’t supposed to call him that?” Leah asked the ten-year-old version of Amanda.
“He likes it.”
“He doesn’t and you aren’t,” Mary Ann scolded her from a few seats down, sipping on her own hot drink.
“Every time you call him that I’m tossing one of your presents into the fire.”
“Grandpa!” Hannah shrieked.
“Too extreme? Okay, then every time you call him that, I’ll change the name tag on one of your presents to his name. Then he can have all the awesome gifts we bought for you.”
“Grandpa,” she moaned. “That’s not nice.”
“Neither is calling your brother organ meat.”
“Eww!”
Suddenly, Leah had a flashback of when she and Marc first worked together when he was always spouting some sort of pig product.
She had started to think he had a form of Tourette’s. He later confessed he thought of pork butts, ham hocks, and bacon whenever he needed to distract himself from how much he wanted Leah. He wasn’t allowed to have her since he was her supervisor.
Sweet but weird.
Typical Marc.
“Pickled pig’s feet,” she murmured with a smile.
“What?” Hannah asked, pulling her from her memory.
“Nothing.”
“Did they buy me pickled pig’s feet for Christmas?” Hannah yelled. “Gross!”
“Gross!” Greg mimicked her and laughed.
“Hannah, we all still have our hearing, we’d like to keep it,” Mary Ann reminded her.
“The boys get louder than me.”
“There are three of them. One of you.”
Hannah rolled her eyes and huffed, “Fine.” She turned her eyes back toward the empty street that had been cleared of snow for the parade. “When does this thing start?”
“The same time it does every year,” Leah answered her, hiding her amusement behind her cup.
“I wouldn’t even come if Dad wasn’t in it.”
“Yes, you would,” Ron told her. “It’s a mandatory Bryson family tradition.”
“When I’m eighteen I won’t have to come out here and freeze.”
“Will you still be a Bryson when you’re eighteen?”
Her mouth gaped open at her grandfather’s question. “Yes.”
“Then your ass will be in that seat and you will be here.”