Page 71 of Meet Me on Mistletoe Lane

“I could’ve been great at crew,” Uncle Gabe added wistfully as he came back to the table.

“He’s fluent in French, too,” Aunt Helen added as she reached for another piece of Italian bread.

“No, I’m not.” Uncle Gabe looked at her in confusion.

“I meant Bradley Cooper,” she replied. “Jodie Foster is, too, I believe.”

“Parmesan adds a great bite.” Aunt Sofia took another mouthful of manicotti and sighed.

As Marco and Nico moved on to ask James who he thought was the strongest Avenger—a topic often argued about in this house—I made eye contact with my mom and mouthed a silent “thank you.” She winked.

Mom could always be counted on for a quick subject change.

Later, Mr. Bailey’s phone rang again, and he stood up and left the kitchen to take it.

“I’m sorry,” James said to Nona. “That thing is literally attached to him twenty-four seven.”

Nona, her eyes kind, pressed her fingers together in front of her face as she looked down the table at him. “A child shouldn’t have to apologize for their parents. Ti deve delle scuse.”

James turned to me, eyebrows raised in question.

“She said, ‘He owes you an apology,’ ” I explained.

And I couldn’t agree more.

We all chipped in to clear the table as Nona put on a pot of coffee and some water for tea. Uncle Rick then pulled out a container of his cannoli to dust with powdered sugar before placing a platter on the table.

James and Sam were soon deep in conversation about whether or not movies like Solo could be considered Star Wars movies.

“None of the original actors from the Star Wars canon are even in it,” Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What would you have them do, CGI them in? That would be terrible.” James picked up a cannoli and took a big bite, his eyes widening before he took another.

“They did it with Leia in some of the later films.”

“Fair.” James set down the cannoli as his father entered the kitchen again, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “But just because it doesn’t have a Skywalker plotline doesn’t mean it can’t be considered a Star Wars movie,” James added.

“Doesn’t it say ‘A Star Wars Story,’ though?” I interrupted. “Like, under the title?”

I only watched it once, because Sam and Leo made me, and I’d ended up falling asleep halfway through, but I had a weird photographic memory for these kinds of things.

Sam reached to put his arm around my shoulders but quickly caught himself and tried to make it look like he was picking something off my purple sweater.

James’s gaze went back and forth between the two of us a couple of times before Nona placed a cup of tea in front of him.

“Milk or lemon, dear?” she asked.

“Milk, thank you,” he replied, his voice short.

“So, James,” Mom began, clearly sensing that we needed a subject change again. “Levi tells me you’re quite the musician.”

“Levi?” Mr. Bailey set his coffee cup down. “Who’s Levi?”

Oh crap.

Maybe not the best change of subject, Mom.

“The owner of the music shop in town, Chordcrafters,” Mom said. “He toured with a couple big names back in the day before he quit that scene and settled here.”