Page 90 of Holding On

I sit and slowly open up, telling her about myself, my goals. I talk about swimming with octopuses and dolphins, working with wild animals, my love of dogs, my sisters, and then my parents and how they died. How I like malt stirred into chocolate ice cream. How I used to be afraid of seagull feathers on the beach.

It’s Maya who interrupts us, first knocking on the door and then entering with such confidence and grace that I could just kiss her.

“Chloe’s got brunch out on the back porch. She’s been anxiety cooking all morning apparently.” Maya smiles and leaves.

And then I tell Rose Ella Tullis all about Maya.

***

It turns out there are other reasons for Chloe anxiety cooking. When Rose and I step out onto the porch, I take one look at the scene and think of the “Private Event” sign inside.

We need it for the porch.

Two long folding tables are set up with flowers, cloth napkins, and pitchers of water and juice. In the middle of the table is a spread of Chloe’s homemade yogurt and granola, scrambled eggs, caramelized onions, a steaming pile of pancakes, fresh butter, and three crocks of warm maple syrup. Scones with some type of dried fruit and candied ginger muffins are tucked down at one end, along with a giant coffee urn and a small pitcher of cream.

“Oh my,” says Rose.

“Oh my is right,” I say, almost embarrassed by the pageantry. Chloe comes barreling out of the kitchen with a bowl of freshly chopped strawberries in her hand, trying to get everyone to the table.

Maya is speaking with Rose when everyone settles in at the table. Claire and Finn sit side by side at the head, then George, Chloe, Bryce, Laurel, Mateus, and Cory are on one side, with Devon, Luke, Maya, and I on the other. Nic and Jackson flag the other end, while Audrey and Andy Pratchett round out the table. It’s a large group.

And loud.

I never understand how people can eat so fast, but within fifteen minutes, most of the food is gone and voices are lowered. Everyone is nibbling on scones or muffins over juice and coffee, and I lean over and give Maya a kiss on the cheek. She’s been holding my hand under the table the entire time, her hand soft in mine.

Audrey Pratchett doesn’t miss any of this, but before she can say a thing, Finn stands.

There’s the ding of metal on glass. Finn grins and runs a hand through his hair while his gaze darts around the table.

As soon as he says, “I have an announcement to make,” I know exactly what’s coming. So does Maya and probably everyone else at this table except Rose.

“Claire and I have something to say to all of you.” He stops for a moment and then smiles at Claire. “Why am I the one doing this again?”

“Because I’ll laugh-cry, and we know how ugly that is,” she says.

Cory looks up from the stack of red and blue Legos he’s fiddling with on the table. “Are you going to marry Aunt Claire?”

Finn’s “Yes” is drowned out with so much screaming that Salty balks, dives, and then tosses his head in the corral next door. George is halfway out of his chair when Finn makes a second announcement.

“And”—he raises his voice—“there’ll be a little Russo in the family just after Christmas!”

This, I’m unprepared for, and so is everyone else.

George throws his arms around Claire and then pulls back as she stands next to Finn. My sister looks beautiful, calm, and composed. She’s laying a hand on her fiancé’s arm and smiling, raising her glass of orange juice in a toast. Devon is beaming, her arm around Luke. She understands the give and take of marriage, having found Luke, leaving him, and then having to start over with him again. Laurel, sweet Laurel, is so overwhelmed, and she’s crying and holding Cory, a bad combination. Cory counts on Laurel to be emotionally even at all times.

He’s liable to tantrum. Meanwhile, everyone’s trying to get a look at Claire’s ring.

Mateus gives me a slight nod for an assist, and I swoop Cory up in my arms. As I leave, Maya scoots her chair closer to Audrey. Mateus talks with Laurel, handing her his napkin. He kisses her temple, then her lips. She breaks away and cries more.

“How far along?” she manages to ask.

“Almost three months, I think,” says Claire. Finn kisses her.

I move Cory and a handful of the Legos inside, away from all the noise, the reflective surfaces, and the sight of his teary mother.

People are still whooping it up on the porch, and I have to smile. Chloe must have known. But I think it was a surprise for everyone else.

Not that we didn’t see it coming.