Page 41 of Pucking Sweet

And, just like that, we’re done talking about me.

I glance across the table. “Is Ivy who we’re celebrating?”

Ivy is older than me by eight years, which means we’ve never really been close. She’s a tenured professor over at Georgetown in the Art History department. With her stylish glasses and tweed blazer, she looks like she’s ready to stand up and give us all a lecture on Picasso’s Blue Period.

“Tell her, Ivy,” Mom presses.

“I’ve accepted a one-year visiting lecturer position at the Sorbonne,” Ivy declares.

“Hey, that’s great, Ivy.”

Mom sighs. “Poppy, your sister will be teaching at the famed Institute of Art and Archeology in Paris. Every day she’ll be strolling through Luxembourg Gardens and touring museums along the Seine. Can you imagine?”

“It’sreallygreat,” I correct, taking another sip of my mimosa.

“I don’t think Pop is very impressed, Mom,” Rowan teases. “Hey, don’t they call Jacksonville the Paris of Florida?”

I hum my agreement. “Mhmm, just like they callyouthe funny one in the family.”

He snorts.

“Deidre, honey. You’re not drinking your mimosa,” says Mom. “Do you want something else?”

My brother’s wife smiles. “Oh, no, I’m fine.”

“Really, you can order whatever you want. Spritzer? Bloody Mary?”

“I’m fine—”

“She’s not drinking, Mom,” my brother says over her. “Take the hint already.”

I glance up to see the grin on his face. He eyes me across the table and winks. Everyone turns to stone momentarily as the news sinks in. Mom is the first to break. “Oh my—Hank,” she shrieks. “Hank, she’s—they’re pregnant. Are you pregnant, Deidre?”

“The whole restaurant can hear you, Mom,” Ivy warns, reaching over to steal Deidre’s mimosa.

“Yes,” says Deidre, placing her hands on her stomach. “We’re expecting again.”

“Oh, goodness,” Mom cries, hurrying around the table to hug them both. “My third grand baby! I thought you kids were going to let me go gray before I ever got to hold another baby.”

Dad stands too, shaking Rowan’s hand.

“You’ll just have to wait until next spring,” Deidre assures her.

“We’ve quite given up on Ivy,” Mom goes on. “And we had hope for a minute there with Poppy, but we all saw how that turned out. Now it’s all down to you and our sweet Violet.”

Right, Ivy the academic spinster and Poppy the disappointment. I raise my mimosa in silent salute. Ivy just smirks.

At that moment, the waiter steps in and serves our entrées. I frown down at my portion of fish served on a dollop of creamed parsnips. The waiter places a last plate at the empty seat between Ivy and Deidre. “I thought you said Vi wasn’t coming,” I say, surreptitiously sliding the plate of crab cakes closer.

“She’s not,” replies Dad.

“Then why did they bring an extra plate of fish?”

The mood at the table shifts again. Rowan, Deidre, and Ivy are now all inordinately concerned with inspecting their seared bass.

I set down my fork. “Someone please just tell me what the rest of you already seem to know.”

Mom leans a little closer. “Well, honey, Violetreallywanted to be here to tell you her special news in person.”

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