I shrug off my jean jacket. “I knew you were busy with leaving town tomorrow,” I say, giving her a hug. “But thank you.”
“Had to make your lemon tart.” She points to her signature pastry on the kitchen island. “I probably made and ate a hundred of those when I was pregnant with you.” She smiles at the memory, her eyes meeting my dad’s as he walks into the kitchen with a few bottles of white wine. Mom named us kids after her pregnancy cravings and we all joke we’re lucky she wasn’t craving something like hot sauce or donuts. We might be Tabasco or Maple-Glazed.
My whole family's always here for Sunday dinner, and tonight is no exception. We take glasses of wine into the living room, catching up on one another’s weeks.
Rye and his new wife Prairie have just gotten back from their honeymoon. They went to Iceland which seems so decadent. I didn't think my brother was ever gonna leave the state let alone the country. And nowIceland? But he and Prairie look so happy, with a glow about them, probably from the natural hot springs they explored on their trip. They can't keep their hands off each other which makes me want to roll my eyes and barf and also well, I couldn't be happier for them.
Bartlett, the next oldest sibling, is married as well, for two months now, to Abby, the tightrope walker, who is also the most lovely, outgoing and optimistic person in the world.
Graham, was born after me, then Rueben, Mac, and Fig and they are all here too. And there’s a pile of presents on the coffee table which is one perk of having a large family.
My niece Plum, Reuben’s daughter --she's five --is twirling around in a leotard, showing off.
“You're gonna break something, Plum,” Abby tells her.
Thankfully, my parents have a pretty big living room. But Plumisgoing to break something I can tell. Abby's eyes widen as Plum does a somersault.
Rueben lifts her up in the air, throwing her over her shoulder. “That is enough, you crazy animal,” he tells his daughter. “Dinner almost ready? This monkey needs a banana or something,” he says to Mom, walking toward the kitchen.
“When did she learn to somersault?” I ask Abby.
“She’s been coming to my studio. Pretty cute, right? The five year old class is adorable.”
“Dinners ready,” Dad calls. “Your favorite meal, Lemon. Extra capers.” My dad carries a platter of chicken piccata and pasta to the big table in the dining room where everyone finds a seat.
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, coming up beside him.
“For what?” he asks. “I didn't do any of this, it’s all your mother's work.”
“I was gonna say thank you for giving me the week off. I know it's a lot to ask for.”
Dad smiles, putting the platter down. Then he wraps an arm around my shoulder. “You never ask for anything. You work way too many hours in that office. You need time off. Besides, you've gotten us more work this year than we've had in a decade. I don't know what you're doing to get so many clients but it's magic. So you need a break. And we have enough work as it is.”
Everyone sits at the table, napkins moving to laps. “So when are you and Fig leaving for your flight, Mom?” I ask.
Fig grins, ready to answer for Mom. “We're leaving tomorrow at 8 am for our flight at four. Ireallyneed to stop at a mall to grab a few things.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “We do not need to go shopping before we go to California, Fig.”
Fig smirks. “I know but--”
“No buts,” Mom says, “we're not going shopping before we go on a vacation. It's just not happening. Your dad and I will check the itinerary tonight.”
I smile. “Well, I'm leaving bright and early too, for the lake house.”
Dad makes sure everyone has a beverage before raising a glass. “Speaking of your birthday trip, let’s make a toast to our Lemon.”
I feel heat rise to my cheeks as I look around the table at my family.
Everyone is being so kind and warm, and I appreciate that no one's making any jabs.
“To Lemon,” Dad says. “For being so loyal, committed and putting her family first.”
“Thanks Dad.”
Graham grins. “Yeah. And maybe this year you’ll find yourself a husband.”
I frown. “I don't need a man,” I say.