Grier was having the time of her life. She was laughing so hard her ribs ached and the stitch in her side pulled.
Nick Santos Sr. was every bit the jolly soul movies proclaimed him to be, especially when he was into the moonshine with her grandfather and father. Right now, for the delight of his grandchildren and Honey, he was wearing a tutu, where he got nobody knew, and was doing fancy pirouettes on the ice surface in an elaborate and entirely made-up ice dance routine. He was not graceful in the least. It was like watching a rhinoceros on ice skates but the way the tutu twirled and floated made it even more hilarious.
“Is he always like this?” Grier asked Nick who stood watching his father with a wide grin on the side of the outdoor rink.
“From January until September, pretty much. H
