“Well, him too,” Raquel said lightly, and Sadie, for once, couldn’t quite tell if she was joking or not.
Kay and Tava sat at the counter while Gigi and Anne moved around each other in a practiced way. Gigi handed her the cheese grater right before she reached for it, and Anne turned the pan handle away from the flame as Gigi lit the burner. It reminded Sadie of when she and Gigi used to cook together, and she realized with a sudden jolt that they hadn’t done that in some time. They’d gotten so used to it being just the two of them that they didn’t make a big fuss over dinner. It was usually something Sadie would throw together after a long day at the café.
As Sadie filled the wineglasses, there were two thumps against the back-garden window. It was the peach tree, wanting to join in the fun. Sadie looked at Raquel and nodded to the last two wineglasses, her own hands already full. Raquel picked them up, and they walked back out to the living room.
“To family,” Raquel toasted, and the sound of clinking followed.
“Only Uncle Brian and Aunt Suzy are missing now,” Sadie noted after a long swallow.
“I’m so glad Brian married that woman. The best addition to this family anyone could have asked for,” Anne said.
“And our mother,” Seth said lightly, though there was a coldness to it. “But I guess once you’ve been gone that long, it doesn’t really count as ‘missing’ anymore.”
“Seth,” Sadie said in a warning tone.
“Sadie,” he answered, mocking her in the same pitch.
“Don’t even start,” Raquel said, interrupting the twins’ staring contest.
“Alright, alright.” Seth laughed. “See? This one’s so good for me. Keeps me in my place. Truce, sister?”
Normally she would have bickered right back. But then she felt Jake’s hand against her lower back, the heat of his palm making her skin tingle through her shirt. And she nodded.
“Truce,” she answered, her voice hoarse. She watched as Raquel and Seth made their way to the kitchen, thinking how strange it was the way they moved in sync. She sighed. She could let go of her grudge for a night. And that’s when she remembered Jake’s hand was still on her back. The house seemed to sigh in a contented sort of way, and the record player in the corner began to play Nat King Cole all by itself.
“Listen,” he said. “I really need to talk to you.”
She took another drink of wine. Turned around. She’d been meaning to say something, but now she couldn’t remember what.
They stared at each other, the inches between them growing warm.
His eyes burrowed into hers, and he opened his mouth to say something. Closed it again.
Just then, a knock on the front door had Sadie springing away from him and nearly spilling her wine. She cleared her throat. Blushed. The lights flickered, and the grandfather clock chimed loudly even though it was only 5:42 PM.
“I’ll just get that,” she said hoarsely. Uncle Brian stood on the doorstep, with a smile that Sadie always felt he reserved just for her. He was short, stocky, bald headed, and handsome in a Bruce Willis look-alike way. His hands were always dirty, calloused, covered in grease from the mechanic shop he owned with his wife, Suzy, who’d been so much a part of the family for so long that Sadie didn’t remember a time without her. He held up a grocery bag.
“Margaritas?” he asked.
“God bless you!” Sadie laughed, squeezing him tight and then beaming at Aunt Suzy, who was carrying a covered bowl that Sadie knew was full of her favorite pesto pasta. No matter how many times Sadie tried to replicate it, she could never get it quite right. She’d had Aunt Suzy write out the recipe, but even that didn’t help. Her obsessive-compulsive nature compelled her to spend half a summer trying different variations before finally giving up.
When Uncle Brian came in the house, various parts of it hummed like they were calling out to him. Burnt-out light bulbs Sadie always forgot to change and screws that needed to be tightened, and if she strained, she swore she could hear her old Subaru whining for attention. Brian’s magic had always been fascinating to Sadie because it felt like a superpower: he knew how to fix anything he touched.
“We would’ve been here sooner,” Aunt Suzy said.
“But the string of lights along the driveway had a short, so I fixed them,” Uncle Brian finished.
“I’ve been meaning to look at that—thank you,” Sadie said, not even bothering to ask how Brian had managed it, since she knew he always carried a toolbox in his car.
The smell of lasagna brought them all into the kitchen, where another round of cries and hugs went around. Uncle Brian headed straight for the blender while Suzy unloaded a basket with zucchini squash and purple tomatoes from their garden. There were three conversations going on at once, accompanied by the sounds of Gigi clanging the pot lid as she checked on the broccoli steaming on the stovetop and the hiss of cheese melting in the oven. Tava hummed while Anne continuously teased Kay. Gigi smacked hands and scolded and laughed and bossed “the kids” around. The air was warm with talk and company. It had gone from dinner for two in front of the television to having to add chairs for the ten people crowded around the kitchen table. They all grinned at each other and drank deeply.
Seth helped Uncle Brian get a leaf from the shed to expand the table while Jake brought in a bench and extra chairs. Sadie and Raquel set the table, and Suzy was already at work on cleaning dishes. A blast of heat hit the room as the lasagna came out of the oven and the garlic bread finished broiling. And finally, Gigi’s bullfrog voice silenced them all.
“You didn’t need to come back,” she said. “But I’m glad you did. Now let’s eat before this damned food gets cold. I don’t even know if this lasagna is any good. And that broccoli isn’t fit to eat, but it’ll have to do.”
For the next twenty minutes the conversation died away, to be replaced with the clinking of silverware and the setting down of plates, the scraping of chairs and the refilling of drinks. You could cook all the magic in the world into the most delicate of dishes, but, Sadie thought, nothing compared to the magic of sharing an ordinary meal with people you loved.
Sadie was sitting next to Jake, and even over the melee of delicious dinner aromas she could smell him. The cedarwood and hint of campfire smoke. When he reached for a second helping, his thigh brushed against hers, and neither of them moved away. She knew she should. Knew she was supposed to keep her distance. That her magic was the only thing that mattered right now. And still, she relished that small point of contact. Let it spread through her until it pooled at her center.
“I can’t eat another bite.” Jake sighed, leaning back in his chair, his hands on his stomach. “Gigi Marie, as always, that was the best meal I’ve had in forever.”
“Well, I hope you saved room for dessert in a little bit. But before we get there, I suppose we should talk about why you’re all here.” The table all hushed at once, and the bubble of joy that had been growing in Sadie’s stomach suddenly burst. Acid began to burn in her chest. Kay was already crying.
“You don’t have to do this, Mom,” Anne said quietly, all teasing gone from her voice.
“Hush, toot. I do have to. You all already know it. Or at least most of you do. I’m dying.” Gigi was never one to mince words, but these came out sharp and sliced through the silence until Sadie could feel the incisions across her heart.
Kay let out a wail, and Tava shushed her. Raquel had silent tears streaming down her face. Seth’s jaw was clenched so hard the vein in his forehead was visible. Brian pushed back his chair as though he were going to leave—like if he refused to hear it, it wouldn’t be true. But when he saw Gigi’s look of warning, he sat back down.
“Chemo,” Anne started but faltered when Gigi’s eyes cut to her.