It was barely seven. He hurried past where Oreo and Harry were already waiting for breakfast and pulled open the door. “Ruby?” he peered curiously at his bathrobe-clad neighbor. “What are you doing out this early?” She held out what looked like a covered plate. “Breakfast,” she told him with a wide grin. “Seriously?” He moved back, welcoming her into the house. “What did I do to deserve this?” “Just being neighborly,” she said as she set the oversized plate on the kitchen table, proudly removing the cover. “Ham and eggs. Biscuits and gravy. And grits.” His eyes opened wide and his mouth started to water. “Grits?” She nodded knowingly. “I haven’t had grits in years.” He smiled at her. “Not since I lived here and used to sneak over to eat them from your table.” “That’s what I figured.”
