The Garage Christmas: A Father, a Son, and the Dog Who Stayed

door. Three quick raps.

Not a polite knock. A neighbor knock.

I opened it to find Linda from two cabins down, wrapped in a puffy coat with her hair sticking out of a beanie like she’d been dressed by a tornado.

She held a casserole dish in one hand and her phone in the other like it was evidence in a trial.

“Morning,” she said.

“Linda,” I nodded. “What’s continue reading …