“Ugh, Frank is a lost cause. But you and that boy have been eye-fucking each other for a year and now that it's out in the open I expect regular updates."
"You are not getting regular updates, you crazy woman."
"I will get what I get and I will get it from multiple sources and you know it." She sits back, immensely satisfied with herself. "How's your brother taking it?"
That's the question. I drag a piece of pancake through the powdered sugar and take my time answering.
"Rome is Rome. He'll come around."
"That means he hasn't come around."
"It means he's processing."
"Processing." Ruth repeats the word like it's a foreign food she isn't sure she likes. "Men don't process, darling. They stew. They brood. They rearrange the garage and call itpersonal growth. Your brother is a good man, but he has the emotional vocabulary of a brick wall and he loves you so much it makes him stupid about it."
"He'll come around," I say again, because repeating it helps me believe it.
Ruth reaches across the table and pats my hand, her rough palm warm against my skin.
"He will. Give him time. Men need time the way fish need water. Without it they just flop around on the ground looking foolish."
I finish my pancakes while Ruth delivers a full status report on the town. The new couple on Birch Street are arguing already, and the husband has a voice like a foghorn. The library is getting a new carpet. Someone's daughter came out, even though she is married with children.
"Where are your people today?" Ruth asks, topping off my coffee from the pot she'd brought to the table. "Birthday and you're in here with me? Not that I'm complaining."
"We're doing dinner tonight. Just me, Rome, and Erin."
"Small."
"I wanted small."
"What about your man?" she asks full of mischief.
"My man is free to be with his dad today." I wrap my hands around my mug, watching the steam rise. "And his mom, as always."
Ruth nods, sympathy washing through her eyes. She knows. Everyone in Harbor Hill knows what February sixteenth means to the Holts.
"How's Will handling the two of you?"
I laugh at that, genuinely. "A little too delighted, honestly.And way too smug. Apparently he suspected the whole time."
"Child, you two made it too obvious." Ruth shakes her head fondly. "You still deserve to celebrate your day, darling, just as he does."
"We did. At exactly midnight, we met halfway between our houses and ate cake together."
Ruth puts her hand over her heart. "That is the sweetest and saddest thing I have heard."
"It is what it is. And just this once."
Because next birthday I won't be here. Next birthday I'll be somewhere else, and Callahan will be here, without me.
I push that thought down before it can take deeper root.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart." Ruth slides out of the booth, dish towel over her shoulder. "Twenty-three looks good on you."
"Everything looks good on me, Ruth. We've been over this."
"Lord, the ego on this child." She's grinning as she walks away, already hollering at someone in the kitchen about something unrelated.
