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“Papy’s maple bourbon apple cider,” Max answered “It’s our tradition for tree-tri”

Papy cas, his shuffling steps steady enough, though Valerie and his dad looked like they wanted to grab the tray froroan as he stooped, then went to get the pastries

They all took aon the stea cider His dad stoked the fire with a shower of sparks, and Valerie unpacked the old boxes of decorations, unwinding neatly twined bundles of golden fairy lights

Jereulped a mouthful of cider “Is that alcoholic?”

“Of course,” Papy said as he shuffled back in with a plate stacked high with pets-de-soeur pastries

“We’re French-Canadian,” Meg said “Booze, roups”

Jerehed “What’s the fourth?”

“H said, “Papy, what do you think?”

“Tourtière”

“Not poutine?” Max teased, knowing Papy wasn’t a fan

Papy glared as he got settled on his spot on the middle love seat “Meat pie is better and you know it”

Max grinned and took a bite of buttery pastry “M”

He shrugged but looked pleased “Your mamy’s recipe is the best Simple”

Mouth full, Meg et better”

Dad stood and clapped his hands “All right, this tree won’t decorate itself”

“It’s your job to put on the lights while atch,” Max noted

“Funny guy” But Dad didn’t argue, hts around the tree Beyond the tree through the front , the afternoon was already getting dark The colored Christhts on the barn and house were on a tih they soon flipped on

Kneeling on the area rug, Max unpacked decorations, one of the cardboard boxes so old and ratty that one of the flaps ripped right off when he gently tried to unfold it

Sitting beside Papy, Jeremy sipped his cider, his cheeks a little rosy He was quiet, listening to theht Max’s gaze, he whispered, “What? Is there so on my face?” He swiped at his mouth