Dare and Tish from the auto shop across the street were at the counter squabbling over a stack of papers. Coffee and pastry shrapnel was spread around them. Dare jammed his long, battered fingers into his hair as Tish tried to state her case for something with Ultra Tech in the name.
Knowing Tish, it was something to make ridiculous custom car and motorcycle things that I couldn’t begin to understand. Nor did I want to. I was fine with my Toyota, thanks.
I nodded to a few others and slid back into the booth next to my mother.
“Dios, you are an angel.” My sister pulled the plate in front of her and hissed at the temperature of the fries. Didn’t stop her from clamping her teeth around the end of a fry as she waved her hand in front of it to cool it down.
My mother gave me the death glare. I pushed her healthy-ish salad in front of her and pulled out her favorite dressing from my apron and set it before her. She lowered her head to take a sniff and gave me a small nod of approval.
I slid Erica’s glass to the edge of the table as Polly came down the aisle. She stopped and refilled it with a clack of candy and a tight-lipped smile. That was about all
we got out of her for friendliness.
Erica picked up a fry. “Mami, try it. You’ll see.”
She sniffed and took a large bite of her salad instead.
I held out my fry to my sister, and we lightly tapped them together. “Cheers.”
“Girl, this is amazing. I’m going to have to make this for the bar. Those hulking eat-me-out-of-house-and-home firefighters would love it.”
“I’ll text Kayla the name and number of my distributor.”
“Bless you.”
Kayla Mills—sister-in-law and chef extraordinaire—ran Sharky’s with my sister. I pitched in when she needed me to. I definitely didn’t mind the tips. They were better than the ones here. Then again, a lot of the clientele at the diner skewed toward thinking two bucks under the water glass was being generous.
I listened to my sister and my mother chatter on about the baby and the shower we were having at the bar over the weekend. Putting together a surprise around my sister was almost impossible, so we just let her do the planning.
I scraped a fry through the last of the gravy in my bowl. “Is Frankie coming up?”
“If she knows what’s good for her.”
I pressed my lips together against a smile. Francesca, one of the four girls in my family, lived in the city. But not the Manhattan side like Erica used to—no, she was in the artsy Hell’s Kitchen part of it where she was into brand design and photography. Deadlines were her life, so we rarely saw her.
“Well, let her know I can pick her up from the train station if she needs me to.”
“Thank you, nena. What would we do without you?”
I waved off my mom. “Not a problem. I’ve been talking to Kayla about supplies for the shower so we should be pretty well finished up before Saturday.”
“She won’t let me see anything.” Erica toyed with one of her last fries. “I don’t like surprises.”
“And that’s why you planned most of it.” I pushed my plate away.
“I know, but she took over, and I hate it.”
“She’s excited.” Jake’s sister wasn’t quite used to our crazy family, but she was definitely jumping in without fear.
“Oof.” Erica winced and rubbed her side.
“See that’s what you get for putting junk in your baby house,” our mother announced.
The sudden pang hit me low. In a town full of pregnant women, it was hard not to have those what if feelings. Even if mine were even more wistful. “Can I feel?”
Erica swung her legs down a little. “Of course.”
I came around to sit by her, and then swallowed and let her put my hand along her side. The flutter of something below my palm made the pang grow into a lump in my throat. My eyes filled. “Wow, Ric.”