“What kind of traditions?” Emma asks curiously.
“We’ll give the baby a silver coin for luck. We’ll serve homemade shortbread. And we’ll avoid those ridiculous games they play in America.”
Keira opens her mouth to protest, then wisely changes her mind.
A compromise is better than nothing.
Isobel looks moments away from exploding, but Maggie gives her a look that clearly says:This discussion is over.
“Fine,” she finally says icily. “But I expect to be consulted on every detail.”
“Of course,” Maggie replies sweetly.
Isobel sweeps out of the room in a storm of rustling skirts and offended dignity.
The second the door shuts behind her, Keira, Emma, and I burst into laughter.
“She’s going to complain about this for an entire week,” Keira predicts between giggles.
“At least we won,” Emma replies.
Maggie watches us with a satisfied smile.
“Good. Now let’s move on to more important matters. We have a baby shower to organize. Keira, take notes, would you?”
Our grandmother rises from her chair and begins pacing around the sitting room while dictating instructions to my cousin.
“Date: two weeks from now. Location: the grand salon. Guests: family only. Theme: elegant but warm.”
Keira types furiously on her laptop.
“Can we have cake?” she asks.
“A tasteful cake. Not one of those American monstrosities covered in excessive frosting and plastic decorations.”
“Games?” Emma asks.
Maggie grimaces.
“One or two. Discreet ones. Nothing involving guessing the size of Jane’s stomach or tasting baby food.”
I nod approvingly.
Honestly, that sounds pretty reasonable.
We spend the next twenty minutes planning details: menu, decorations, guest list. Keira takes notes with military precision.
Then, just as I start considering an escape route, Keira turns toward me with a smile far too innocent to be trusted.
“Now that we’ve settled that... let’s talk about you and Finn.”
I freeze.
“There’s nothing to discuss.”
Emma laughs.
“Duncan Fraser disagrees.”
