Ma came back around lunchtime, breezing into the bakery and the kitchen like she always did everything—abrupt, fast, and firm. “We are shutting down for lunch.”
“Third sign of the Apocalypse,” Bridget whispered to Nora.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, Nora laughed. “Better prepare to divide the Hummel collection.”
Bridget grinned. “I already told you, Ma’s collectibles are all yours, sister.”
“I hear you two muttering about my Hummels. Just for that, I’ll leave them to Abigail. She would appreciate the value.” Ma tsk-tsked at her two daughters. “Anyway, if you two are done acting like twelve-year-olds, Magpie wants to take us out to lunch, and Abby is meeting us there. Since we are all in the same place at the same time for once, I think that is a fine reason to close the bakery for an hour. The world will not collapse, nor will the Apocalypse come in that span of time.”
Nora nudged Bridget. “You’re in trou-ble,” she said in a singsong voice.
“Ma…” Bridget said, stepping closer to their mother. “Is your lipstick smudged? And didn’t you just go to the shelter? Did a certain director of said shelter kiss you?”
Unflappable Colleen O’Bannon turned as red as a beet. “We do not have time to sit around and share idle chitchat. We’re taking a short break for lunch; then we are coming back here. We have a business to run. Now, get your coats.”
A few minutes later, everything was out of the ovens, the sign went to CLOSED, and they were heading down the street to a small diner on the corner. Magpie was already waiting in a booth big enough for six, with Abby on the opposite side. Nora slid in next to Magpie while Bridget sat with Ma and Abby.
The diner had opened in that corner location forty years ago, and most of the décor still sported the late ’70s feel that had been there for opening day. The tables were green, the bar stools some kind of color halfway between yellow and avocado, and the jukebox in the corner bright red, seeming stuck in the era of Cher and Bon Jovi. But the food was good, the service was quick, and the diner was one of several area restaurants that ordered all their desserts from the O’Bannon bakery.
Magpie was drumming her fingers on the tabletop while her left leg tapped out a beat against the tile floor. The waitress, a girl they knew well, came by, dropped off drinks, and took their orders with a minimum of small talk and then left them alone.
“So tell us why you’re springing for lunch,” Abby said when they were alone again. “And why you’re still in town. Not that I don’t love seeing you all the time, but frankly, Mags, it’s getting kinda weird.”
The others laughed and made some jokes but Nora noticed her little sister only made a half-hearted attempt to join in. Under the green Formica table, she grabbed one of Magpie’s hands and gave it a squeeze. Magpie’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Thanks,” she whispered.
“Hey, I need to apologize,” Nora said softly, and she vowed she would be more present going forward, regardless of how messy her own life got. “I know you wanted to talk back in Truro and I never got a chance. I’ve tried calling you and stopping by—”
“And I’ve been avoiding you.” Magpie gave her sister a watery grin. “I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me, Nora.”
Nora squinted at Magpie. It was ironic how they both felt the same way. Nora had kept her secrets to herself because she didn’t want to let her family down, and here Magpie was, doing the same. “I could never be disappointed in you.”
“Okay.” Magpie let out a shaky laugh. “I’m counting on that.”
The diner was starting to fill and the low hum of conversation filled the air, punctuated by the occasional “tuna on rye!” call from the waitstaff to the kitchen. Every time an order was ready, the cook rang a bell, which at the pace he was moving was about every thirty seconds.
“Well.” Magpie took in a breath and, this time, was the one to give Nora’s hand a squeeze. “I guess I can’t put it off any longer. I…well, I brought you all here to tell you something. And now that you’re sitting at this table, I’m not quite sure how to say it.”
“Do it the O’Bannon way,” Abby said. “Fast and blunt.”
The waitress came by and deposited their orders. Magpie ignored her grilled cheese sandwich and ran a finger back and forth along the edge of her plate. Once the waitress left, Magpie drew herself up and blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”
A sinkhole could have opened in the center of the diner and not one O’Bannon would have noticed. Total silence descended over the table for a good thirty seconds.
Nora swallowed her hurt. All those days at the beach house and Mags hadn’t said a word.
Except she had. She’d asked to have a girls’ talk more than once, and Nora had been so consumed by her own problems that she hadn’t followed up. Magpie had become a secondary worry, something Nora pushed to the shadows while she dealt with the stuff in plain view, a choice that had also cost Nora in her relationship with Sarah. All that time she’d spent with Will—chasing some foolish flirtation because she was feeling lonely—all time she could have spent with her kids, her sister. She’d tried to connect with Magpie after they came back to Boston, but the window had closed.
“Before you ask, I’m keeping it. I wasn’t going to but then”—Magpie drew in a breath and placed her palm on her abdomen—“I spent all that time with Sarah and Jake, and I kinda thought it might be nice to have a kid of my own.”
Bridget grinned. “That’s awesome, Magpie! Congratulations!”
“Yet another kid I can buy drums for at Christmas,” Abby said. “Nora’s still thanking me for the ones I gave Jake. Aren’t you, Nora?”
“Almost as good as the bugle you gave him for his birthday,” Nora said. “I’m glad I only have one evil sister.”
Abby laughed. “Wait till you see what I buy him and Sarah this Christmas. I’m thinking violins.”
Nora leaned over and drew her sister into a hug. From now on, she’d be there for Magpie. For the doctor’s appointments and the first steps and all the crazy, stressful, joyous days ahead. “I’m so excited for you.”
Magpie met her gaze. “Are you really? I was so afraid you would be disappointed that I did something so stupid.”
“You are going to be an amazing mom, Magpie.” Nora hugged her sister tighter. “I mean it. You’re going to be great.”
“So, tell us more. When are you due? Do you know what you’re having? Do you have names picked out?” Bridget asked.
“The doctor said around the middle of June. And no and no. I’m still figuring this out.” Magpie’s smile wobbled. She turned to face their mother, who, from announcement until now, hadn’t said anything. “Ma?”
All four girls swiveled to look at their mother. Nora braced herself for the lecture about premarital sex, the sin of having a child out of wedlock, the whole fire-and-brimstone thing. Ma had mellowed over the years, but Nora didn’t think she’d changed that much.
“I think”—Ma paused—“what you did was a big mistake.”
Magpie sighed. “I know, Ma. I didn’t think and—”
“Bringing a child into the world isn’t a decision that should be made lightly. You have no idea what a responsibility it is.”
“I don’t. But I’m hoping all of you will help me.” Magpie reached out, and the other O’Bannon girls grabbed her hands and assured her they would be there, especially Nora, who was the closest, both literally and figuratively. Just as she had when Magpie was little, she would protect and help her sister.
Nora knew how hard parenting could be. She knew the challenges ahead of Magpie, but she also knew the joys. She had seen Magpie with her niece and nephew and had no doubt that her younger sister, with her heart of gold and abundant love, would be just fine once her child arrived. Maybe this would be the thing that would keep the wanderlust-filled Magpie home for more than a few weeks.
“I’m sorry, Ma. I know you’re disappointed and probably going to tell me that I’m going to hell,” Magpie said, “but I love this baby already and I’m not going to—”
“But I also think,” Ma interrupted, putting up a hand to stop Magpie’s words, “that it’s time I stopped judging people as harshly as a winter storm. And…it’s about damned time another one of my girls had a grandchild for me to spoil.” She reached across the table, took Magpie’s hand, and smiled at her youngest daughter. “The road you’re choosing is a hard one, Margaret. I’ve raised children alone. But you are strong and smart, and you have all of us here to help you. We’re O’Bannons. That’s what we do.”