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crawled across the dining area, grabbed a kitchen chair leg, hauled herself up and stomped a foot. “I go!”
    â€œNot you, either, button. And on that note...” He gave Dolly a kiss, kissed Timmy again and left his aunt with two squalling children. “Sorry.”
    She waved him off, calm as ever. “This is all for your benefit, Grant. They’ll be fine in two minutes. You’ll feel guilty all night while they play and laugh and giggle and eat mac and cheese. Go, get this done, and Christa will be thrilled.”
    He walked to the garage, torn. He’d gotten a lecture today from Dolly’s occupational therapist, reminding him that she needed to work on skills daily, but that was easier said than done. Dolly had become an expert at refusing to do the simplest tasks, which meant her motor skills were dragging even further behind.
    Was Aunt Tillie right? Were they really fine in a couple of minutes while he wore a mantle of guilt all evening? He drove to the lodge, saw Emily’s SUV then felt guilty for looking forward to the evening. He got out, crossed the couple of spaces to her car and opened the door for her.
    â€œThank you!” Her bright smile warmed him, and that only made the guilt mount higher. “How was your day?”
    His day had been fine until fifteen minutes ago, and he didn’t want to lay all that at her door, so he shrugged. “It was okay. Yours?”
    She studied him, then shook her head. “You’re worried about something. If it has to do with the wedding, spill it now.”
    â€œIt’s not about the wedding.” And then, ten seconds after deciding not to lay it at her door, he recounted the kids’ antics. She nodded, frowned in sympathy then laughed out loud.
    He tucked his neck deeper in his coat, aggrieved. “It wasn’t one bit funny when two little kids were crying because they miss their daddy and I’m too busy to be with them.”
    â€œIt is kind of funny,” she insisted. “Because Tillie is right. I told you I worked in a children’s home during college, and this is textbook toddler attachment stuff. We even started messaging pics to the parents five minutes later to prove our point. They’re fine, they’re just experts at pushing the guilt button. They don’t like the moment of separation, and boy, do they let you know it. I bet if Aunt Tillie was to send you a picture right now, it would be of two happy, healthy, goofy kids playing or eating and having the time of their lives.”
    â€œWhich is exactly what they say at day care, too.” He worked his jaw, then shrugged one shoulder. “I’m a pushover when it comes to them.”
    She moved forward to the lodge door, let him open it and smiled over her shoulder. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
    He let the door swing shut behind them and followed her to the hostess station.
    He liked the setting instantly. One part of the lodge was a restaurant, known for great food and its cozy, rustic atmosphere. Cozy and rustic worked for him, and he was pretty sure it would work for two air force officers tying the knot.
    When the owner/manager sat down with them and covered everything in detail, Grant was sold, unless the food tasting went bad.
    It didn’t.
    Instead of the tiny bites he’d been offered last night, the lodge owner served them a full meal at a linen-draped table complete with a centerpiece and a candle, alongside a fireplace.
    It was like a date, only it wasn’t, he reminded himself.
    But the feeling persisted as they laughed and talked their way through dinner. “This is amazing,” he told her.
    â€œThe Celtic stew, the homemade bread or the beef?”
    â€œAll of it, plus the setting, the service and the prices are so reasonable. And I like the idea of family-style dining.”
    â€œDishes at the table, everybody sharing. I like that, too. It’s Sunday-dinner-friendly and