It’s still drizzly outside when both doors of the minivan slide open. Arthur and Alex pull the sleeping twins out of their booster seats. Then Andy and I climb out.
“Welcome, everyone,” Mom says as we all pile up the stairs to the front veranda. She pinches the cheeks of each twin. “Come inside before you turn into a couple of ducks. I have crackers and cheese on the table.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Arthur gives her a kiss as he passes by.
Once everyone’s inside, she and I face each other on the veranda. “Happy birthday, Flapjack,” she says with affection. It’s been her pet name for me for as long as I can remember.
We hug and make our way inside.
After we’ve all removed our wet shoes and rain jackets, Mom leads us to the kitchen, where she’s prepared an incredible spread on the marble island—bunches of grapes and cheese on a bamboo platter, a bouquet of chocolate-dipped strawberries on sticks in a crystal vase, sweet Devonshire cream, and the sterling silver coffee service.
“Help yourselves,” she says, “but don’t fill up too much. We have eggs and bacon to come, and fresh blueberry waffles.” She swings to Alex and speaks slyly. “Mimosas for the grown-ups?”
“That sounds marvelous,” Alex replies and sets Jessie down.
Before I touch any food, I wander to the wide bank of windows and take in the view of the bay, ashen and thunderous with violent whitecaps. It’s not lost on me that my father has not yet made an appearance.
Turning to the others, I ask, “Where’s Dad?”
“In his office.” Mom playfully rolls her eyes. “He had some work to finish, but I’m sure he’ll be out as soon as he smells bacon.”
At least twenty minutes pass before my father comes lumbering out of his office like a bear. Before saying hello to any of us, he complains to my mother about one of the partners at the firm. Then he waves Arthur to the back hall, where he vents for another five minutes. Eventually, he emerges to greet his grandchildren, his daughter-in-law, and lastly me. The birthday boy.
“Why didn’t you bring your new girlfriend?” he demands to know, as if I’ve done something completely senseless.
“She had work,” I reply. “A new client.”
He slaps at the air dismissively and turns away. “Where’s my mimosa?”
With flawless precision, my mother hands him his morning cocktail in a flute. “Here you are, darling.”
He raises it in the air. “Welcome, all, and happy birthday to Flapjack.”
“To Flapjack!” Arthur and Alex say in unison, also raising their glasses.
I paste on a smile. “Thanks, everyone.”
“Now come on,” Mom says and ushers us into the formal dining room, where the table is set with a white tablecloth, fine china, and fresh flowers. Helium balloons adorn all four corners of the room. A family tradition.
“Sit wherever you want,” she adds. “Hot waffles are on the way.”
I’m relieved, at first, when the conversation over brunch is directed at the grandchildren. Dad asks Andy about his soccer team, and Mom talks to the twins about their swimming lessons. Blueberry waffles and bacon arrive on shiny silver platters. (My parents employ a housekeeper named Jane, who also cooks and serves.) We talk about the rainy weather while we douse our plates in maple syrup and spoon dollops of fresh whipped cream on top of the waffles.
I’m comfortable keeping quiet, under the radar, because brunch is delicious and I’m starving. I help myself to a second waffle, spoon some mashed blueberries and whipped cream on top, drench it in maple syrup, and shovel it into my mouth. No sense letting the bacon go to waste. I grab some more of that too. And then the conversation takes a turn that I wasn’t expecting.
Andy—my nephew, whose secret I promised to take to the grave when he clogged the toilet with his toy dinosaur—betrays me.
“What do you get when you cross a plumber with a jeweler?” he asks.
I glance up from my plate. My mouth is full, so I can’t respond, but I stop chewing.
My father, clearly enthralled, sits back in his chair. “No idea, Andy. Do tell.”
“A ring around the bathtub!” Andy shouts.
I direct my gaze to my brother. Arthur is beaming with pride, as if he fed the joke to his son at some point, probably when they were discussing me and my new girlfriend.
Everyone laughs, and my mother sits back in her chair and claps her hands. I immediately lose my appetite.
