"So what's the deal with these cookies?" Bob asked, seated next to Natasha in the front of their rented car.

"They're only the best cookies in the world," DeeDee said, bundled up in the backseat.

Again, Bob couldn't help notice how cute she was with just two sets of eyelashes sticking up over a soft-looking blanket scarf. To think she was cute was at his own peril, but as long as he kept the thought to himself it wouldn't be a problem. The scarf was not enough to muffle the cloud of breath when she spoke as they waited for the car's heat to kick in. Natasha had warned that she didn't want it on full blast as they were dressed for a formal dinner at the Wurtzes underneath their winter things, and she didn't want to get too sweaty before they got there with the running around they had to do first.

"The Grannies are a group of women who get together once of year to make all their families' hand-me-down cookie recipes for Christmas," Natasha explained. "There's a whole system to ordering cookies and picking them up."

"It's like picking study courses," DeeDee added. "You've got to have back-up choices."

"But you just said you pre-order," Bob said, curious.

"You do," Natasha said, "but you never know what they'll have on the day. Sometimes a Granny can't make it and apparently they don't share their recipes."

"They don't give you long to get in, get them and get out either, so there's no mulling it over in line."

"I'm guessing this is a line of all women," Bob said, unable to think of any man he knew with the necessary patience or attention to cookie detail.

"And if they do have what you want you can't get more than what you ordered."

"Not even as a back up?" Bob asked.

"If you selected it as a back-up online you can," Natasha said.

"What if you're back-ups are gone?"

"Sometimes there are scalpers in the parking lot."

"Ahh, that's where the men are!" he said.

"My list is all French Creams," DeeDee purred. "They're like a glazed sugar cookie topped with dried currants. I've tried to make them. I can never get the icing right."

"They're so sweet," Natasha said sliding her teeth against her tongue.

"They're just crackers if they're not sweet," Bob said.

"Don't forget, Deeds, Aunt Phil wants the vegan shortbreads, Steve wants the nougats and Gene wants the wafers."

"On the list," DeeDee confirmed, then leaned forward to tap Bob's shoulder. "The French Creams are great for dunking too because the cookie dissolves and currents stay chewy,"

Natasha went one further. "Wait'll you see Steve's brother Gene eat a wafer. He eats all the icing a layer at a time and then stacks all the wafer-bits like a house of cards."

Bob tried and failed at a little mental engineering. "Aren't they wet from licking?"

"Did I say licking?" Natasha's voice rose playfully. "He scrapes off the icing with his teeth!"

"You should see him eat a carrot," DeeDee said. "He has to excavate the root first. He calls it the 'inside carrot'."

"Not gonna lie, I've done it," Bob admitted.

"Yeah but do you save them all in a pile on your dinner plate and eat them separately?"

"Dinner plate? You mean he can do it when they're cooked?"

The Grannies had set up in vacant space in outlet strip. The parking lot was full and Bob thought he'd seen someone with a popped trunk swapping takeout boxes with a shopper unhappy with their loot bag.

Inside they were checked off a list by a friendly member of the cookie crew whose nametag read Miss Rose. On the floor next to her, a long eared wiener dog gnawed happily on a bone treat in his bed.

"Oh my goodness!" DeeDee gasped. "How sweet is he??"

"That's Lloyd. Lloyd, say hello to the nice lady," Miss Rose said, as if the dog would.

While DeeDee leaned over to scratch his ears Natasha whispered in Bob's. "You don't like dogs."

"Yeah, I do," he said patiently waiting his turn to get his hand sniffed.

"No. You. Don't." Natasha said with a conspiratorial glance between him and DeeDee.

"Got it," he whispered back. "I'm a schmuck."

"Guys, isn't he adorable?" DeeDee cooed.

"Not very hygienic to have a dog in here though is it?" Bob said, forcing disapproval.

"He stays up here with me," Miss Rose said haughtily. "You can too, if you like."

"No that's okay. I'm not a big fan of pets."

"What are your ants then?" DeeDee asked suspiciously.

"They're like guests who aren't allowed to leave."

"Ah."

"Well, you're not on the list," Miss Rose said, "so it's either up here with me or outside."

Bob thought about how cold it was and damn it, he did like dogs. Lloyd had such a long belly he was dying to get a scratch in.

"Where shall I sit?" he asked trying to look less than thrilled.

She pointed out a bench against the opposite wall, handed the girls a pair of tickets and printed out registered lists. Once Natasha and DeeDee were gone, Bob tried to get Lloyd's attention by patting the side of his leg.

Miss Rose gave him a distinctly dirty look.

"Is that Lloyd with one L or two?" Bob asked.

"He won't bother you if you don't call him over," she said tersely.

"It's not that I don't like dogs. Just not in my house. Here's different," he tried, but Rose had moved on to checking in some newcomers while Lloyd continued to ignore him, licking his own paw as often as bone.

Natasha and DeeDee joined the cookie line-up, moving along slowly with their open cardboard boxes as though each Granny was a different lunch lady in a cafeteria. There was no jumping ahead to where you wanted to be or moving backwards for second thoughts. A nice orderly system was the rule and there were plenty of chocolate chips to shuffle past before they'd have to show their papers.

Passing in front of a table of sugar cookies, colourful rows like a sweet, tiled roof of a gingerbread house, the sisters pointed at the same time to a messily decorated treat and tried not to make it obvious.

"Are we on Nailed It!?" Natasha asked.

"I think that's supposed to be Mickey Mouse in a Santa hat," DeeDee whispered back.

"Looks like he's got three ears and one of them's infected."

"Looks like Olive Oyl from Popeye with a warped love heart."

"Like Pac-Man calling the red ghost on a black rotary phone. Natasha said, smiling as she realized how hard DeeDee was trying not to laugh. "Boy, you're in a good mood today."

"Am I?"

"Yeah, you're smiling. And not one of your 'lost in secret thoughts' smiles either."

"Maybe it's Christmas."

"Whatever it is, it's good," Natasha said rubbing her sister's arm.

A cookie shaped like a mermaid, (or perhaps a dolly hanging out of a green Christmas stocking), caught DeeDee's eye. "I do have a secret, though," she said. Her smile became a nervous grin which turned Natasha's arm rub into an excited grab.

"What? What???"

"It's something Bob told me and I'm not supposed to say anything, but if I don't tell you, you might be mad at me."

"So tell!"

"Yeah, but if I do then he'll be upset."

"What do you care? I'm your sister!"

"I know, but he's going to be your husband and I don't want it to be a thing."

"Tell me or I'm going to lick all the tops of your French Creams."

DeeDee took a deep breath. "He's booked your wedding venue," she said.

"No he hasn't. He has? Where?"

DeeDee paused, biting her lip. "Brace yourself. The Neptune in Las Vegas. It's a water park and a casino."

"No it's not."

"The kid-friendliest resort in Sin City. Planned and paid for."

Natasha's long "Did heeee?" sounded like air leaking out of a tire.

"It's not all bad news. He thinks you're eloping."

Natasha almost burst out laughing, especially at DeeDee's funny-bone-pain expression in anticipating her reaction, but in that same moment it dawned on her that Bob's well-played lie had just provided the exit strategy she desperately needed. She now saw clearly an opportunity to give her family a solid reason to object to him, not because of his behaviour, but hers when she was with him. She quickly adopted a puzzled expression.

"You're not joking?"

"Afraid not."

"Well, I'm sure the honeymoon will be..."

DeeDee shook her head. "It's the whole thing. Are you going to wear your veil down the water slide?"

Oh," Natasha said meekly.

"I knew it you'd hate it. I'm sorry, Nat. I'm only teasing. I tried to tell him, but he said you liked a man to make the decisions."

"About my wedding day, though?"

"There's still plenty of time to fix it. You should've seen my face! Poor dope. Try not to be too hard on him. He looked so pleased with himself."

"I'd spend most of it by the pool wherever we went, I guess. Whatever, it'll be fine."

That got her.

"Whatever?"

"It's his day too."

DeeDee's head twitched as though watching the answer ricochet around the room. "Ok, then why don't you just get married at a renaissance fair or Canada's Wonderland? 'Whatever' she says."

"What can I do?" Natasha asked, looking helpless.

"I don't know. Withhold? Use one of these snowflake shaped cookies as a throwing star at his head?" DeeDee was still smiling, but clearly she was flustered. "You're an event organizer, not to mention a semi-professional ball-breaker. I'm sure you can think of something. Go ahead. Tell him I told you and then make him change his mind."

"No. It must mean something to him. I couldn't hurt his feelings."

"Are you messing with me? You sent Rodney packing for less. Why let Bob get away with this?"

They'd come to the wafer table. "Two dozen lemon, please," Natasha ordered. She turned back to DeeDee and said as pathetically as she could. "At least I get to marry this one."

DeeDee shook her head, bewildered. "Natasha..."

"You only ordered twenty," the wafer Granny said curtly.

Natasha pointed to her list. "Everything else is ordered in dozens, what makes wafers so special?"

"It's so unlike you," DeeDee whispered, her face full of concern.

"A woman in love has to pick her battles."

"Twenty," the Granny said firmly, hand held out for a box to fill.

Natasha passed it to her ever-so genteelly. "Do you know what Yelp is?"

******

On the drive to Aunt Phil's DeeDee stared at the back of Bob's head, appraising it anew through a sulk of conflicting thoughts. Natasha didn't seem to notice, though she sensed Bob was getting a bit uncomfortable with the silence. She opened up her box of French Creams to fill the space.

"Those smell amazing," Bob said. "What's a guy gotta do to get to try one?"

Give me my sister back, DeeDee thought. But it wasn't all his fault was it?

"I can spare one on the house, but they're so addictive I'm afraid they'll ruin you for other cookies," she said, hoping it would be true.

"I'll take my chances."

She passed one up and bit into her own. She remembered them tasting better.

When she told Natasha about Vegas she'd expected an explosion. She at least suspected they'd spend the rest of the time in line concocting some hilarious way for her to manipulate Bob into changing his mind, but to see her so accepting when she was clearly disappointed was unrecognizable. Bob's ridiculousness was one thing when she thought it made her sister happy, but Natasha's attitude smacked of settling and DeeDee didn't like it one bit.

"So, what's Aunt Phyllis like?" Bob chirped up.

"Phil's short for Philomena, honey, and don't worry, she's going to love you," Natasha said.

"Yeah, she likes anything that drives Dad nuts," DeeDee said a bit sharply.

"She's kind of boho," Natasha continued.

"In a patronizing sort of way," DeeDee added.

"She paints, meditates, doesn't wear a bra, constantly borrows money from Dad and then laces into him about how he makes it."

"Why? What does she do for a living?"

"She used to run these women's empowerment workshops before some fake Italian count cleaned her out. She's a receptionist at a ballroom studio now. Well, this week, anyway. Hey, maybe she can get us free lessons for our wedding? Lead all our guests with a waltz for our first dance."

"If that's what you want," Bob agreed.

It burned DeeDee's cheeks knowing what her sister had always envisioned – a lavish rooftop ceremony with friends and family present, then a great big swanky ballroom reception. Not vows blessed with a trident above a slip-and-slide, or a chapel grotto spilling out onto the electric stew-coloured, eye-torture carpets of an ocean themed casino floor.

"I should warn you though," Natasha said with a devious smile at DeeDee through the rearview, "she's a bit of a crazy cat lady."

Bob groaned and let his head fall back on the top of his seat. "Cats? Like how many?"

"How can you not like cats either?" DeeDee asked, truly baffled.

"How many does she have now? Natasha her.

"Three left," DeeDee said coldly.

"Please tell me you mean only three remaining and not that three cats left the other twenty behind," Bob said.

He was funny when he wasn't trying.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw Kurt's number and immediately swiped to decline it, her insides shifting anxiously like magnetic sand. What did he want? He was probably calling to wish her a Merry Christmas now instead of on the actual day when he'd be busy with family. His cowardice was insulting and yet, he had some nerve. She waited for the voicemail notification to blink. When it didn't, the magnetic sand shifting turned into an iron clump of disappointment. When it finally did, meaning he must've left a really long message, she felt annoyed that she'd be obliged to listen to it, but only until they pulled into their aunt's long driveway and got out of the car. She excused herself quickly to a quiet patch of lawn under the guise of having to listen to some work-related nonsense, desperately longing to hear every word Kurt had to say.

Alone with Natasha, Bob said quickly, "Listen, I really don't like cats."

"Right."

"No, I actually don't. I'd like to, but they don't like me and they can be kind of scratchy about it. They freak me out."

"Oof," Natasha said. "This is where it's going to be tricky. Aunt Phil needs to like you."

"Why is she so lucky?"

"Because anyone she approves of my father will immediately discount. They agree on nothing."

"So let me get this straight. You want me to pretend to be someone who hates pets who is pretending to like them to kiss your Aunt's ass?"

"Yes. Do whatever it takes to get her on your side."

"How did Rodney win her over?"

"He said hello."

The gag-face Bob made in response was ignored so that Natasha could yell at DeeDee to get off the phone. She hurried to rejoin them, a faraway expression on her face as they rang the doorbell.