Page 40 of Again, In Autumn

Well, this is going to be a fun night.

I pour myself a very not restaurant glass of wine and head into the dining room.

“Where’s mine?” Francesca asks.

“I didn’t know if you wanted home wine or Italian restaurant one,” I say with a shrug.

She cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t know what that means, but home wine. Always home wine.”

As I move toward the table, some liquid sloshes out of my glass, and a drop lands on the carpet.

“Ah, shit,” I mutter.

Grayson twists his chair. His mouth drops. “Oooh, Auntie Vee, you can’t say bad words.”

“You should hear what your mother said to me upstairs,” I say, pulling out the chair beside him.

David leans over us and drops a basket of garlic bread on the table.

Grayson gasps. “Swear jar, Mom!”

Francesca sets two glasses across from him and responds, “There’s no vacation swear jar.”

“So, I can say whatever I want?” he asks.

She shrugs. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” She gestures to the glasses. “Maggie, please sit down! Diego, you haven’t met Vienna yet, have you?”

I stand and reach my hand across the table to shake his. His cheeks rest on round glasses as he smiles, and his handshake feels like a bearhug. Maggie and Diego wear matching Christmas sweaters with broken gingerbread men and both have their nails painted red and green.

He booms, “Nice to meet you, Vienna! I’ve heard so many wonderful things.”

“Not from Adam, I take it.” I laugh a little too loudly and no one gets the joke. Is it a joke? Or am I concussed?

Diego lightly laughs. “Adam’s been mute about you, but Grayson sang your praises last night. Told us all about you.”

Grayson digs his fingers into a ball of bread. “No, I didn’t,” he mutters.

I jostle him in the ribs.

He tries not to smile and gives me a shove in return.

David and Francesca come around with salad and pasta. Caroline takes a seat beside me, and David sits at the end of the table. Alice scampers into the chair between Grayson and their mother while Kate hovers behind Adam, watching his move, fighting back a smile when she notices only two seats remain. One in front of me, one in front of her sister. Naturally, she chooses to sit beside her brother and Adam takes the one beside Maggie.

He’s my mirror opposite.

“Dig in, everyone, please!” David announces, still wearing the apron.

“Thanks, Dave, this looks great,” Adam says. He reaches for a roll. “I appreciate all the effort you went to, man.”

“He cooked it in the crockpot,” Francesca announces. Then, she freezes. “I didn’t mean for that to sound…he did a lot of hard work –”

I chime in, “Fran’s idea of cooking is reheating day-old KFC in the microwave, so, we’re glad she stayed in her lane and Davey took over.”

“Yes!” she points to me. “That’s what I mean! I wouldn’t know how to use a crock pot to save my life. If he didn’t cook, our children would not eat.”

Alice adds, “Mommy takes us to Chick-fil-A.”

“Yes, see. See.” Francesca tensely looks at Kate.

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