“If you know me even a little, you know I’m going, don’t you?”

“Pumpkin, no!”

I grabbed the door key from his pants pocket, opened it, and headed to the kitchen. I sat at the table, and Gabe was soon beside me.

“Lots of coffee, little milk, very hot, no sugar,” he told the cook.

“Not having your coffee on the veranda?” I mocked, spreading butter on a saltine cracker.

“You can eat that?” He eyed the butter.

“If I followed the rules to the letter, I ...