There was a golden embossed envelope on the coffee table of the living room when I went down to have breakfast. I gave it a cursory glance as I walked into the kitchen. Abby was standing at the stove, her back to me. The smell of bacon and eggs were in the air and I sighed in satisfaction. I was two feet from the bar when she turned, fork in hand.
"Did you see the letter?" she asked. She was wearing an apron that said World's Okayest Cook.
"And good morning to you too," I said drily, giving her a hug.
She rolled her eyes and turned back to the stove. "Did you see the letter on the coffee table?" she repeated.
"I did," I replied, moving to the fridge. I pulled out a box of cranberry juice and closed the fridge. "Why hasn't anyone opened it yet?"
"I don't know."
Pouring myself a glass
