"We just need a few extra chairs," Cuppa said. "Afraid I miscounted."
"I'll get them," Barbara volunteered.
"I'll help," John said.
He followed close on her heels up the stairs, and once they were in Cuppa and Barbara's apartment, he sighed.
"We weren't invited, were we?"
"Of course you were," Barbara said, grabbing a chair.
He raised his brows at her.
"Okay, no, you weren't. But it's only because Ron and Maggie were coming over, and Ramani and my dad's parents get along like oil and water."
"Say no more. I can try to create an early exit for us."
"No." Barbara took a deep breath. "No, I don't want you to do that. You're here now. We'll just make the best of it."
John nodded. "Ramani knows too."
"She does?" Barbara made a face. "How can you tell?"
"It's not hard to figure out when there are only nine chairs, but there's supposed to be eleven of us. And let's face it, you never text Ramani, do you?"
"No." The heat of embarrassment flushed through Barbara's system.
"But Serene's question was a good save," John said.
"She honestly didn't know."
John smiled. "Yeah, that was obvious. And it saved face for Ramani. Trust me, she won't let on she knows, she likes to be the star, but she will hint at it. At some point, she's going to ask where our wreaths are."
Barbara groaned.
"So, you better have a good story ready." He picked up a chair and headed back down.
They had not even made it to the bottom of the stairs before Barbara heard Ramani say, "what lovely wreaths. I'd love to wear mine."
"Oh, I-I," Jesse stuttered. Their grandmother's gaze was fixated on him, her smile big and feline.
"We miscalculated," Barbara said. "The last two wreaths barely had enough flowers to fill them out."
Grandpa Ron took his off and held it out toward Ramani. "Here, have mine."
She took it, eyes shining. "Why, thank you, Ron." Then she turned and headed for the kitchen. "I brought some soups and Indian food."
Erica stepped in front of her. "Cuppa has already put together a full menu. You and John can take that back with you. Have it for another night." Their voice was soft but firm.
"Oh. Alright." Ramani ran her hands through her thin curls. "What can I do to help?"
"Please just relax. Have a glass of wine," Erica said through their teeth.
Barbara and John set the chairs at the table, and the rest wandered over to take their seats.
Somehow, Ramani and Ron wound up sitting opposite each other, a terrible arrangement. Cuppa hovered for a moment over Ramani, utterly flustered, before giving up on trying to find some excuse to get her to move.
Grandma Maggie said, "shall we say grace?"
"Absolutely," Ramani agreed, placing her hands in a prayer position, and plunged ahead to lead the prayer. "Goddess, bless this food." She began and continued with a longish blessing, followed up with a song about embracing the earth and all her abundant gifts. Grandpa Ron glowered down at his plate during the prayer. When she finally finished, everyone mumbled blessings and amens. During the meal, compliments flowed freely to Cuppa.
"Mmm," Ramani said after placing a bite full of spanakopita in her mouth. "This is just divine, Cuppa."
"Thank you."
"Did you get the recipe from Tera? I recall she made this a few months ago."
Cuppa took a sip of her wine. "No. It's a common enough recipe. I got it off the good old internet."
"I do like Tera. Sweet woman, always so helpful. How is she doing?"
Barbara noticed Ramani had that smug cat-that-ate-the-mouse smile as she waited for Steve to reply. He stabbed at his pasta with his fork. It seemed like Ramani knew something. Her dad had said he and Tera were having issues. Was she trying to rub his face in it?
"She's fine," he said, giving Ramani a quick, tight smile.
"And Laird?" She continued.
Serene stared at Ramani, her dark eyes hard pits of anger. She set her fork down as a silence fell over the table. But Grandpa Ron, focused on his dinner, missed the underlying tension that was moving like a treacherous current under a seemingly placid surface. "Laird's a great kid," he said. "He loves sports. You should take him out to play a little ball." The innocent remark cracked through the stilted, awkward moment.
Steve nodded.
"When your mom and I get back from our cruise, I can take him out, show him how to swing. I remember you were a pull hitter, but I have a feeling that kid might just be a slugger." Grandpa Ron grinned at the thought and his eyes darted over toward Jesse, who tucked his hair behind his ear and picked at his fish.
"You're not still going through with that cruise?" Carrie asked, aghast.
Grandma Maggie cleared her throat. "We've been planning this trip a long time, Carrie. We'll be careful."
"Careful, how?" Ramani challenged her.
"It's none of your concern," Grandpa Ron said.
"There's no way you can be careful on a cruise ship," Ramani said, undeterred. "They’re floating Petri dishes." John covered her hand, but she continued anyway. "It's irresponsible. This thing is going to blow up and all because no one's taking it seriously."
"People get sick all the time," Grandpa Ron growled. "Are we supposed to stop living?"
"This is different, and you know it. It's turning into a pandemic."
Ron laughed. "A pandemic." He shook his head.
"Yes. A pandemic," Ramani snapped. "And Trump ought to be focusing on that, instead of trying to protect the cruise line industry."
"President Trump closed down travel from China. That's something. You know why? Because it's a Chinese virus. Mark my words, this thing is going to blow over in a few weeks."
"The whole country of Italy is shut down," Cuppa said, the strain of anger audible in her voice. "That doesn't sound very Chinese to me."
"Italy is inundated with Chinese tourism," Grandpa Ron said, the color rising in his neck and flooding his face. He glanced around the table and stabbed his fork in the air.
