Page 164 of Kingmakers, Year One

I can smell bacon sizzling in the kitchen—probably my mother wide awake and instantly hungry.

By the time Anna and I return to the cabin, hand in hand, my mom has pancakes on the skillet, coffee percolating, and eggs poaching, too.

“Good morning,” Anna says, hugging my mother from behind. She has to reach much farther around than usual to do it, because my mom’s belly now keeps her arm’s length away from the stove. “How’s Baby Frances doing?”

“She doesn’t like that upstairs mattress,” my mom says, “but she’s very excited for breakfast.”

“That makes two of us,” I say.

“No breakfast for you until you set the table,” my mom tells me, sternly.

“I have to set the table,” I say. “I’m the only one who can reach the plates way up here.”

I lift them down from their perch on the impractically high shelves above the sink, then pass them to Anna so she can set them out on the table.

Once I’ve grabbed the glasses, I join her in arranging the place settings. She’s leaning way over the table to reach the other side, her nightgown stretched tight across her cute little ass. I can’t resist pinching her bottom.

It’s the worst possible timing, since my father and Uncle Miko have just come strolling into the room. Mikolaj’s expression goes from calm to homicidal in an instant.

“Young love!” my dad says, cheerfully. “Can I get you some orange juice, Miko?” And then, in an undertone, “Please don’t murder my son.”

“Everybody sit down!” my mom says. “The pancakes are ready!”

As we arrange ourselves around the table, Anna and I make sure to take the seats furthest from her father. My mom deposits a huge platter of crispy golden pancakes in the center of the table. My dad brings the bacon and toast a moment later.

I can hear Whelan before I see him, thundering down the stairs at full speed. There’s a tumbling, banging noise that sounds like he might have fallen down the last four, but he comes sprinting into the kitchen looking perfectly recovered.

“Where is your sister?” Miko asks him.

“Coming,” Whelan pants, plopping himself down at the table and seizing a fistful of bacon. “She’s gotta get all fancy first.”

“Use the tongs,” Miko says, sharply, rapping Whelan across the knuckles with them.

“Right,” Whelan says, grabbing another pile of bacon with the tongs.

Aunt Nessa floats into the kitchen, as graceful as Anna and barely looking any older than her, even in an old t-shirt and ponytail with no makeup on her face. She gently takes themajority of the bacon from Whelan, dividing it onto Miko’s and her plate.

“But I’m starving!” Whelan complains.

“Eat that first, and then we’ll see,” she says.

Cara follows Nessa a moment after, wearing a clean flannel shirt and denim shorts, her dark hair brushed and braided into two plaits. She sits down on the other side of Anna, giving her sister’s hand a quick squeeze.

“It’s so nice to be all together,” my dad says. “May not happen again for a while, once the baby’s born. Traveling with an infant is awful.”

“Are you scared to start it all over again?” Nessa asks my mom.

“No,” my mother says, with her usual bluntness. “It never felt right, having only one. I never felt done.”

“I’m sorry I was so unsatisfying,” I tease her.

A year or two ago I would have been annoyed hearing that my mother was unhappy with me as her only child. She probably wouldn’t have admitted it. But she can see how happy I am and how little I need that kind of flattery.

“You’ll understand soon enough,” my dad says. “The desire to have children with the person you love can be overpowering.”

“Notverysoon, though.” Uncle Miko frowns.

“Don’t worry, Papa,” Anna says. “We’re not in a rush.”

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