Fig smirks. "I heard what you guys were talking about when we were coming downstairs." She looks over at Plum. “We both did. So, Meadow and her family are coming over for dinner?"
I nod. "I invited them, at least. I assumed Mom and Dad wouldn't have a problem with it, but..."
"Of course, they can come over," Mom said. "I'm never going to turn anybody away from family dinner, but how many mouths are we feeding?"
At this, I look down sheepishly. "Nine."
"Nine?" Mom says. "That's as big as our family."
"Well, one of them is the daughter-in-law, so..."
"You're telling me this girl of yours comes from a family of six kids?" Dad asks.
I nod. "Yeah, she's the second oldest."
"And they all live together in some traveling circus?"
"Not circus," I say, thinking of Bartlett's wife, Abby. She really did grow up in a traveling circus. "They're in a traveling band."
"Is that better?" Mom asks. "It's equally as crazy."
"It's way better," I say. "Abby grew up in a really hard situation. It's not like that for Meadow. Her parents love her, want the best for her. They play music together, and she had pretty much an idyllic childhood."
Plum grins. "Meadow plays music?"
"Yeah," I say. "She sings and plays the guitar."
"Maybe she can play a song for us tonight," she says with a grin.
"Well, I suppose if Plum and Fig already met this girl, I might as well as meet her too," Mom says, giving me a smile, finally.
"Thank you," I say. "It means a lot. I wrap my mom in a hug and give her a kiss on the cheek. "And thanks for watching Plum. I'm glad you guys had a good night together."
At that, Plum claps her hands. "Ooh, you didn't even see the costume we made." She jumps off the stool and runs back upstairs all the way to the attic.
Fig looks at me. "You know, she couldn't stop talking about Meadow yesterday."
"Really?" I say. "You guys only met her for a minute or two."
"I know, but she's five," Fig says. "I think she gets attached. She keeps talking about her being a princess like Rapunzel."
“Yeah. She's a little fixated on that, isn't she?" I say.
Fig nods, "Yeah. Just..."
"What? You too?"
She shrugs. "I'm not the romantic the rest of you are. I'm never getting married, and I'm never going to be swept off my feet. I'm sensible. I'm practical."
I snort. "Says the girl with 53 dresses made out of tulle and a collection of high heels that could rival a Kardashian’s."
Fig rolls her eyes. "Regardless of my wardrobe frivolities, I'm not that way with my heart. And I don't want to see yours get snapped in two."
"I don't want that either," I say.
"All right," she says. "I'm not going to say any more. Just be ready because the rest of the family, they're going to have opinions. Right, Mom? Dad?"
My dad takes his empty plate over to the kitchen sink and rinses it off. "Your sister's right. I suggest you call your brothers and sister before dinner and let them know what's going on. It wasn't just you that lost Beth, you know. We all did. And the idea of someone else..." Dad sighs. "Reuben, we love you, okay? That doesn't change with this conversation. But what I hope does change is you realizing that bringing a girl into this house is going to affect everybody differently."
"Right," I say. "I get that." I sigh as Plum bounds back into the kitchen, twirling in a dress made of tulle. I laugh. "Let me guess. Your aunt insisted on that skirt."
Plum says, "I love it too. In fact, it makes me look just like a princess."
"Well, my darling," I say, taking her hand and bowing. "May I take Her Royal Highness home?"
Plum giggles. "Oh, Daddy. You're a silly goose."
Later, I call my brothers and sister while Plum takes an afternoon nap. I expect it to go poorly. And, for the most part, I'm right. Rye thinks I'm being ridiculous bringing someone I just met home. Bartlett says I'm a grown-ass man who can make my own choices but if I do anything to hurt Plum... Lemon, she just sighs. "Fig told me about this," she says.
Mac and Graham have few words, which I suppose shouldn't be a surprise either. The two of them have never fallen in love. And they were just teenagers when Beth died. Still, I am surprised when Mac tells me he wants me to be happy.
"You deserve it more than anybody I know. If this girl's special, hell, of course I want to meet her," he says. "You're my brother, Reuben. My brother who's been to hell and back. This girl makes you smile? I already know she's special."
"Thanks, Mac," I say, his words meaning more than he could know. But I'm sure as hell not going to start expressing myself over the phone because I've cried already more in the last 24 hours than I've cried in a year.