“Good,” she encouraged. “Keep going.” Her mate walked into the kitchen. “Dee-Ann, we have comp—no!” He reached down and took the plastic knife from the small hand gripping it. “We have had this discussion,” he told Dee-Ann and the ball of energy glaring at him. He cleared his throat. “Knives are not toys or weapons. They are for cooking and eating.” “That’s not what granddaddy says.” Ulrich Van Holtz sighed and tossed the plastic blade into the recycle bin. “We’ve got to stop sending you to Tennessee every summer.” “Do that and I’ll walk there on my own.” Lizzy-Ann Van Holtz Smith stared up at
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