Chapter 26
“Pizza party!” Morgan waved the grocery bag filled with goodies in the air. “Correction…pizza-making party.”
Quinn, Brett, Wyatt, Jeff and Tristan gathered in Easton Estate’s kitchen.
“Where’s Mrs. Arnsby?” Tristan asked.
“She has the night off,” Brett said. “We get to make dinner all by ourselves.”
“I love pizza.” He clapped his hands. “Pepperoni, sausage, and ham.”
“What? No veggies?” Morgan mustered up a serious tone.
“Gross.” Tristan made a gagging sound. “I’m a man who needs meat.”
Jeff playfully nudged his nephew’s arm. “You’re a boy who loves meat.”
Morgan emptied the bags filled with pre-made pizza dough, sauce, all the toppings Tristan mentioned, along with onions, green olives, chopped green peppers and thinly sliced tomatoes. “I have three cheeses—mozzarella, parmesan and an Italian blend.”
“I swung by and picked up garlic knots from our favorite pizza joint in town.” Quinn placed the brown boxes off to the side. “Along with garlic and marinara dipping sauces.”
“Where are the pizza pans?” Brett began digging around in the cupboards searching for the pans. “I have no idea where anything is.”
“The pans are in here.” Tristan squeezed past his father and opened the cabinet door next to the six-burner stove. He pulled a stack of cookie sheets out and set them on the counter. “Mrs. Arnsby lets me help her in the kitchen sometimes.”
“I bet you’ve helped her make cookies,” Jeff said.
“Yep. Cookies and cupcakes. She’s the best-est cook in the whole world.”
“Hands down.” Quinn rubbed her palms together. “How many cookie sheets do we need?”
“Three.” Morgan held up the bags of dough. “I think three large pizzas will be enough.”
Tristan hopped on one foot. “Can I spread the dough?”
“After we wash our hands,” his uncle said.
They each took turns at the sink, washing and drying their hands before they got down to the business of pizza making.
Morgan turned her cell phone on and tracked down one of her favorite playlists. Humming along to a snappy tune, she chopped onions and minced garlic, adding them to the growing collection of toppings.
Meanwhile, Tristan and Brett spread the pre-made dough out on the pizza pans. Putting Jeff in charge of adding sauce to each pie, they made quick work of prepping.
“Let’s add toppings.” Morgan counted heads. “Uncle Jeff and Tristan work on this pizza, Wyatt and I will doctor up our pie, and Brett and Quinn can work on theirs.”
“Crud.” Quinn opened the oven door. “We forgot to preheat the oven.”
“It won’t take long.” Morgan tapped the panel of buttons. “Mrs. Arnsby’s high-tech, top-notch oven is super-speedy.”
By the time they added toppings to the pies, the oven had preheated. Oversized with plenty of room for all three pizzas, Morgan and Quinn strategically placed them inside, leaving enough room for them to cook evenly.
While the pizzas baked, the group munched on garlic knots. Morgan rummaged around in the pantry and found a bag of potato chips. “We have some chips to go with our knots.”
“The chip dip is in the fridge.” Tristan dashed over to the refrigerator and removed a large container of chip dip. “This is my favorite.”
“I bet Mrs. Arnsby bought this especially for you,” Morgan guessed.
“She lets me help her make the grocery list,” he said. “I even help her shop.”
“Tristan mentioned signing up for an after-school archery club,” Jeff said. “He’s even made a friend.”
“Two.” The boy shoved a dip-laden chip in his mouth. “We’re going ice skating at their house after school tomorrow. Their dad built an ice rink in the backyard.”
“Do you know how to skate?” Quinn asked.
“Not yet. My friends are going to teach me.” Tristan waved his half-eaten garlic knot in the air. “By the time Uncle Jeff comes back, I’ll be really good at it.”
Morgan dipped her knot in the marinara sauce. “When are you leaving, Jeff?”
“Day after tomorrow. I’m traveling to Tokyo and will be gone for a couple of weeks.”
“Safe travels,” Quinn said. “How long is the flight?”
“Seventeen hours.”
“Seventeen hours?” Morgan gasped. “Good gravy.”
“I’ve had worse.”
Chester, who had been monitoring the kitchen activity, hopped down from his favorite chair and trotted to the door.
“Chester needs to go out.” Morgan made a move to follow him.
Tristan stopped her. “Can I take him?”
“Sure.”
“Be right back.” He scampered across the room. Lickety-split, he had his boots, coat, hat and gloves on.
Jeff closed the door behind them. “While you’re all here, I want to thank you. Tristan has settled in even better than I ever could have imagined. He loves Easton Island.”
“And we love having him,” Brett said. “He’s a great kid. As you can see, Mrs. Arnsby is spoiling him rotten. Grandmother dotes on him. Morgan is available whenever he needs a ride to school and hangs out with him.”
“He’s talked nonstop since I’ve been here about how happy he is.” Jeff turned to Brett. “Mostly about you. Tristan is finally getting the father he never had.”
Brett’s jaw tightened. “I’ll do the very best I can to make him feel loved and a part of the Easton family.”
“He knows it. He’s a kid, and the words don’t always come easy, but Tristan shows it…and he’s thriving. This.” Jeff spun in a slow circle. “Is exactly what he needed—a stable home, a loving family, security, structure. If you want my opinion, my nephew has won the lottery.”
“The family lottery,” Morgan said. “I know I speak for Grandmother and Brett as well as myself when I say this is only the beginning of Tristan’s long and happy life as an Easton.”
The back door flew open. Chester skittered into the room with Tristan hot on his heels.
“The boots,” Jeff reminded him.
“Whoops. I forgot.” He backtracked and removed his coat, hat and boots. “It’s snowing again. Jax is out shoveling. He let me help while Chester was sniffing around.”
“Maybe you can come help shovel my sidewalk,” Quinn joked. “I’ll even pay you.”
“Sure.” Tristan’s face lit. “I like shoveling.”
Morgan casually placed her elbows on the counter. “Your Uncle Jeff mentioned you like it here.”
“It’s great.”
“So…you want to stay?” Brett asked.
“Yeah, I mean, if it’s okay.” Tristan hesitated. “I miss Nevada, but not too much.”
“We’re glad to hear it,” Morgan said. “Having you here is like a breath of fresh air…a ball of energy to liven the place up.”
The boy’s expression grew solemn. “I thought maybe…”
“Thought what?” Brett prompted.
“Uncle Jeff was here early to take me back.”
“Nope.” Brett shook his head. “This is home for as long as you want it to be.”
“Because you’re my dad.”
The room grew quiet…so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Morgan held her breath, wondering what would come next. She nearly burst into tears, watching as Tristan slipped his hand into Brett’s hand.
“Maybe someday. I mean, you know, later, I can call you Dad.”
Brett wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulder, struggling to maintain his composure. “I would like that, Tristan. I would like that very much,” he whispered.
The end.