* * * *
The house up the lane from the Golden Circle echoed with the sound of his lonely footsteps. Back when the entire family had lived here, there had been just enough room for seven sons and their parents. Now, with just Noah, it was way too large.
In spite of being happy in Florida, Pop would never forgive him if he put it up for sale. He’d have to find someone to share it with.
He forced Gabriel’s image out of his mind.
Noah wasn’t much of a cook, but most of the local supermarkets provided a Thanksgiving dinner for two or four or more for an affordable price. He ordered one that came with turkey, gravy, sage dressing, mashed potatoes, and a blueberry cobbler—he didn’t care for pumpkin pie—and picked it up the day before the holiday, along with vanilla bean ice cream for the cobbler.
He stored it away in his fridge and freezer, then went online to do a little research before he opened the tavern for the evening.