Gram stood in the bedroom doorway holding a steaming mug. “Merry Christmas, Sleepyhead,” she said and sat on the edge of Robin’s bed.
Robin took a sip and sighed. “No one makes coffee like you do,” she said. “Our first Christmas in Dallas has begun with perfection. What’s first? Breakfast or presents?”
“My, my… we must be growing up. It’s the first time you’ve ever considered the possibility of breakfast first.”
“That was just a courtesy,” Robin said laughing. “Let’s open our presents.”
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