“Where you going?”
Not all that interested, apparently, he didn’t follow. I was back in a matter of a minute or so, anyway, with Del trailing right behind me in a similar state of undress as Baily.
“Hey, Ginger just…”
Baily stood, holding the towel in front of him, the one he’d apparently draped over his lap before sitting on the bed. “You wrote this?”
“I don’t know,” Del said. “What is it?”
“A story about last Christmas…about you coming to visit your grandmother and meeting Ginger.”
“Oh. Yeah. You’re in it, too. I started it on Write a Story Day. Haven’t quite gotten to the end, though. Ginger brought me the one you wrote.”
“He did?”
“He did…about this Christmas, how I come to say goodbye to Grandmother, meet you and Ginger and…”
“Oh. Yeah. We, uh, don’t usually share the stories. I didn’t think you’d read it.”
“You didn’t finish, either.”
“No. I still wonder how Miss Kitty got the ones she sent to the publisher.”