At seventy-one, not so surprising.
We walk into the living room, where Amanda's eating, her shirt and bra in place, and Dad and Pam each have a baby in their arms.
“One of you is going to have to surrender to me, because I need to huff a baby's head,” Grace says pleasantly. “Oh. Right. Hi, Amanda. Now that you've had babies, you're just the backdrop, aren't you?”
“I practically blend into the couch,” Amanda replies as Grace laughs and leans down for a hug. Poor Amanda makes a face as she tries to stretch. Well practiced in reading people, Grace pulls back fast.
“How was the surgery?”
“Fine.”
“You had major abdominal surgery! Nothing about that is fine.”
“They are.” Amanda nods at our babies.
Grace softens. “Of course. But are you okay?”
“Time will tell.” Her answers worry me. Dark circles under her eyes suddenly reveal themselves, and her mouth seems slack, turned down with exhaustion. I feel like an ass.
Today was too soon for people to come over.
Placing my hand on her shoulder, I lean down and whisper, “You want me to get rid of everyone? You look like you need some rest.”
“I'm fine. Really. But if they're all here an hour from now, how about we reassess?”
I kiss her cheek, my protective streak intact. “An hour.”
She nods, then looks longingly at the baklava. “Could you..?”
“Of course.” I put two pieces on a plate and set it on her knees.
“Two pieces! I can't eat that much.”
“You can,” I answer simply.
Her gaze darts to my dad, as if she's worried about his opinion.
“Someone hand me a baby,” Grace says, hovering next to Dad, who points to Pam.
The three of them laugh and figure it out, the handwashing ritual one that Grace performs without being asked. I suddenly feel young and old, all at once.
I'm the sandwich generation now. There's one above me, and Amanda and I created one below us.
My phone buzzes from across the room. I ignore it.
For the next five minutes, Pam and Grace and Dad roam between living room and kitchen, chatting and looking at the babies in better light, giving me the chance to eat and breathe. Amanda's eyes start to droop, and I prepare myself internally to send them all home soon.
Twenty seconds or so later, the front door code beeps.
“Who could that be?” Amanda asks.
Gerald walks in, stride steady, arms tight, face drawn in deep concern. Adrenaline shoots through me, spiking fast and hard, making me jump up and cross the room to him at the front door before I can think.
He's at my side, face impassive, which makes my gut clench. “We have an issue.”
“A problem? Is Suzanne okay?”
“No, no. This isn't about Suzanne. It's about your family.”
“My family?”
“I'm glad I'm on for Mort, because this is delicate.”
“Get to the point. What's the problem?”
Something in his mask ripples. “More of an issue.”
“Can it wait?”
He leans even closer and whispers, “A man claiming to be Amanda's father is at the gate.”
“He what?”
“Right. Looks like a nicer version of the guy in Nashua. He's wearing a short-sleeved dress shirt and tie. Jeans. Hair's cut short. Not sure it's him, but probably is. Is it a problem? I'll get rid of him.”
“No. Hold on. It's okay. That's Leo.”
“Leo?” Dad's outraged voice comes at me from behind. Gerald and I turn. “Pamela's Leo? Her ex-husband?”
“Yes.”
“What is he doing here? He's a felon! A murderer!”
Managing my father's emotional reaction on top of the surprise of Leo being here and the stress and joy of bringing the babies home is the last thing I need to deal with. Thankfully, Grace walks up and says to Dad, “James, can you help me with the baby?”
Dad can't resist his long-time executive assistant, and she knows it. Her gaze cuts to me as if to say, I can hold him off for a moment.
But not forever.
“I need to find Pam first,” I murmur to Gerald, who nods and moves into the living room. I just hope Pam isn't holding one of the twins. This is going to be hard enough.
Peeling a grandson out of her arms would be an added gut punch.
“He has no right to be here, Andrew,” Dad says to me, at my elbow again. Grace's cunning eyes take in the situation, sharpening at the word he.
“Who?” she asks Dad. Smart to defer to him.
“Pamela's ex. Amanda's father. A no-good deadbeat who killed a number of people in a drunk-driving accident years ago.”
Grace's eyebrows shoot up. “He's here?”
“I thought he was in prison,” Dad grouses, looking at me as if I've betrayed him by not keeping him apprised of Leo's whereabouts.
Just then, Pam appears, carrying Spritzy in a handbag, her face tight and closed off as if she’s in pain. “What's going on?”
Dad opens his mouth, ready to blast her with his outrage, when Grace puts her hand on his elbow and he stops. He lets out all the air in his lungs, slowly, like a pinhole has formed.
“Leo's here,” I say softly.
Pam flinches. “Here?” Her eyes blink rapidly. “Now?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Until a few minutes ago, when Amanda had me hide Leo's gift, it hasn't occurred to me that Amanda might not have told Pam about our meeting with Leo. I hadn't assumed either way, but apparently, on some level, I had.
I had taken for granted that Pam knew.
And now I have to be the bearer of bad, bad news.
“He's out of prison,” I begin.
“Obviously,” Dad blusters.
“He served his time,” I add tightly, ignoring him.
“James,” Grace says softly. “Why don't we give them some privacy?”
“We need to give Pam and Amanda protection, not privacy!”
“Gerald's here and can do that. It's why Andrew has him on staff. You made a good choice in hiring him years ago,” she says, massaging Dad's ego like a trainer for an Olympic athlete.
Pam's eyes flit to Dad, the bottom lids pulling up with an expression that says she doesn't appreciate his dominance, either.
“Let Leo in,” she says firmly, until she looks at her
