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“Madeleine! It’s so good to meet you!”
Adam’s sister-in-law rushes forward to greet me, and I use the excuse to step away from him.
“Hi. Kathy, right?”
She beams and glances between Adam and me, probably sizing us up as a couple. When her smile widens another inch, I assume she’s pleased with what she sees.
“Yup, and that’s my husband, Samuel, Adam’s brother,” she says, pointing over her shoulder to the guy manning the grill. Adam has a few inches on him and his waistline is a little trimmer, but I can definitely tell they’re brothers. He tips his spatula my way like an army salute and I laugh.
Adam joins his brother and Kathy grabs her empty wine glass before tilting her head to the back door. “Want to come inside for a second?”
Oh God. This is interrogation rule number one: don’t let them split you up.
“Oh yes!” Adam’s mom says just before she takes a seat in a lawn chair. “I forgot to check on the potato salad.”
Kathy flashes me a playful glare just before she pushes me back inside. “I didn’t realize potato salad needed to be watched.”
“I heard that!” Diane calls out after us.
Kathy grabs my arm, laughing. “Run before she throws her wine at us!”
I’ve been around Adam’s family for less than five minutes and I already know they’re one of those families that actually enjoy being around one another. There’s no pretense, no strained formalities. Even now, as I finally get a good look at Kathy, I can see why. She’s beautiful and relaxed. Her red hair is thrown together in a messy bun and she’s wearing overalls—OVERALLS—and she’s really pulling them off. They’re fitted down her legs and rolled up at the ankle. She’s paired them with a tight white top and bare feet, and the overall effect is adorable. I immediately decide to purchase a pair as soon as I have, well, any income at all.
“I really like your outfit.”
She pulls the white wine out of the refrigerator and tosses me a lazy smile. “Thanks. Samuel calls me a farmer when I wear these overalls, but I bought them at J. Crew, so what does he know?”
“No way! That’s why they’re so cute.”
“Want me to top you off?” she asks, nodding toward my wine glass with the bottle in her hand.
I’ve barely touched my glass, but I don’t want to be rude. I wink and step closer. “Maybe just a bit.”
She laughs. “God, I’ve been around you for five minutes and I already think you’re better than Olivia. When I first met her, she wouldn’t shut up about some heirloom bone china she was getting restored. Who gives a shit about plates? Honestly.”
“I’m actually a fine china expert. I work on the Antiques Roadshow,” I reply, completely deadpan.
Kathy pauses pouring my wine, looks up, and then laughs. “You really had me there for a second.”
“Most of my plates at home are of the plastic or paper variety,” I admit with a shrug.
“Mine were too until we registered for our wedding. Now we at least have a semi-matching set from Pottery Barn, but the girls have done their best to break every last one.”
I laugh. “They’re so cute, but I bet they’re a handful. How old are they?”
“They just turned six.”
“Wow.” I turn to spot them outside, lying on the grass beside Mouse. It appears their game of chase is on a temporary hiatus. “Do twins run in your family?”
She comes to stand beside me, following my gaze past the glass window. “No. Samuel and I had trouble conceiving. People harp about adoption and how many children need good homes, but I just…couldn’t give up, I guess. Samuel and I agreed that if Clomid didn’t work, we’d change course and try for adoption.”
One of the twins reaches out and pats Mouse on the head. He takes advantage of her kindness and scoots closer, resting his chin on her chest.
“But it worked,” I say, turning to Kathy.
She beams and clinks her wine glass with mine. “That it did.”
Our mission in the kitchen is finished, but neither of us makes a move to head back outside. Spring is fading into summer quickly which means we aren’t yet melting to the pavement when we step outside, but still, the kitchen is cool and quiet.
“Do you want children, Madeleine?”
I don’t have to consider her question. “Of course.”
“Sorry, I probably shouldn’t ask someone that within ten minutes of meeting them.”
I shrug. “I don’t mind.”
“Olivia didn’t want kids.”
It’s the second time she’s mentioned this mysterious Olivia, and I have to resist asking her to elaborate. If Adam and I were dating as we’ve claimed we are, I’d likely know about her by now. My curiosity will have to take the back seat for a few more hours.
Diane comes in the back door and sees us standing there, propped up against the kitchen island.
