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Rosé came home from the Drawtectives agency to find Grandma singing in the kitchen, dishes and ingredients scattered everywhere, a pile of candy bags on one counter. They were washing dishes as something tasty smelling baked in the oven.
“What’s all this?” Rosé asked, swiping one of the bags as she crossed the kitchen to wrap an arm around Grandma.
“It’s going to be a gingerbread house.” Grandma smiled, placing another measuring spoon in the drying rack. “And if you put the candy back now, you’ll get more later.”
“How did you know?” Rosé complained, chucking the bag back into the pile.
“I know you.” Grandma leaned up and placed a whiskery kiss on her cheek.
“Then you should have gotten extra.” Rosé pouted.
“Maybe I did.” Grandma said, turning back to his dishes. “But that’s for later.”
Rosé helped her finish the dishes, and they had enough time to let the cookies cool before York got home, which meant that they could actually construct the house when he arrived.
“Why is building houses a holiday tradition?” York asked, as they tried very carefully to put the roof on for a third time.
“I don’t know,” Grandma admitted, “but I enjoy it a lot.”
“In the Northern Tribes we decorate cookies with bones and bonemeal.” York said, squinting at the bags of candy. Rosé and Grandma both pulled faces in disgust at the idea.
Their house ended up looking rather wonky, roof askew, the placement of the candy having devolved from decorative placement to putting as much candy on as possible before they ran out of icing, but Rosé loved it all the same. She had never built a gingerbread house before, though she would be never admit it, and had never had family to do it with before either.