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and tossed hot bread into a silver basket.
    There was muted conversation and occasional laughter from the other room.
    Jane slung chili into bowls. “Do you hear that? They’re getting along and talking about work and Christmas and who knows what.”
    “Jane. You’re too young to be working yourself into a panic attack about this. Bring those bowls and let’s have lunch.”
    Jane dutifully placed a bowl of chili in front of her grandpa and took her seat—the one beside the one reserved for guests. Which meant when her father took that familiar breath that signaled it was time to start the blessing, it was Dr. Noah’s hand she got to hold. He must have been thrilled considering how clammy and chili-scented hers was. Still, he held on for that extra second to give it a squeeze. She wanted to look at him, but then everyone would know she was glad to see him and glad he squeezed her hand and glad he wore that striped button-down shirt that made his eyes pop and glad he brought Bridget because petting her just made Jane feel better about everything.
    She grabbed the basket of bread instead. “Here ya go, Grandpa.”
    “Thanks, darlin’. As I was saying, Noah, there’s a direct correlation between the appearance of fruits and vegetables and what they are good for in our body.”
    Jane’s mouth went dry. She glanced at her mother, stunned. “What is he talking about?”
    “A sliced carrot looks like the human eye,” he continued. “And we all know carrots are good for eyes.”
    “We gave him an iPad for his birthday,” her mother said. “He surfs the web when he’s not playing Spider Solitaire.”
    Her father reached for the Mr. and Mrs. Claus salt and pepper shakers. “Tell them about the tomato.”
    “The tomato, like the human heart, has chambers and is red. Tomatoes are good for the heart and blood supply.”
    “Grandpa, you can’t believe everything you read online.”
    “There’s some evidence to support it,” her father said. “We’ve been reading. I think there’s a name for it.”
    “Yup. It’s logical. Celery looks like bones, onions resemble the cells in our body. It makes no difference at my age to believe that sweet potatoes look like a pancreas and possibly help balance my glucose.”
    She prayed he would stop. She meant no disrespect to her grandfather, but it would be easier to take him seriously if he was wearing pants.
    “Not to change the subject,” her father started.
    “Oh, please change the subject...”
    “But Noah was telling us how he came to have Bridget. She was hit by a car and dropped at the clinic. No one’s come forward for her yet.”
    She looked straight at him, more alarmed than she intended. “She seems so at home there and so well trained. I thought she was yours.”
    “No. I’ve put out notices and pictures online and contacted the shelter in case someone comes looking for her. I’m shocked she’s still here, but sometimes people who are travelling during the holidays unknowingly leave their pets with someone who, they find out later, didn’t take very good care of them. It’s possible she got away from a pet sitter and they either haven’t looked hard enough or they haven’t notified the owners.”
    “There was no collar and no chip?”
    “No.”
    Jane glanced at the dog where she waited patiently at the edge of the dining room. It was a sharp contrast to ill-mannered Major who was looking for ways to sneak to Grandpa’s side for a treat—something her parents had forbidden.
    “I wish I could take her,” Jane said. “But I go back to a tiny apartment in January and—”
    “Jane,” her father said with a laugh. “You don’t have to rescue every stray.” He took a gulp of water and reached for his napkin. “Jane’s our very own neighborhood animal rescue league. She’s brought home everything from abandoned baby birds to feral kittens. One time she tried to reunite a mother duck at the pond with an egg she left behind.”
    “Daddy,