Page 101 of When We Were Young

A few minutes later, we’ve all frosted our cinnamon rolls. Lydia walks around and inspects each one, dipping her index finger in everyone’s frosting bowl to taste-test it.

When she returns to her spot at the head of the island, she smiles. “Everyone made excellent cinnamon rolls. My mom would’ve been proud of you all.”

“Assuming they taste okay inside,” Tillie jests.

“They’ll taste wonderful inside, Tillie. Trust me.”

Lydia chuckles. She pauses for a minute and looks around the table.

“Five boys blessed our lives, and I love every one of them dearly, but sometimes I wished we could’ve had a little girl too, so that we could have moments like this. Moments where I can pass down my mom’s cinnamon roll recipe, which she got from her mom. But I’m so happy that each of you came into our lives and I can share this with you.”

The other women murmur similar sentiments. I feel a bit out of place.

Layla climbs off her stool, comes over to me, and taps me on the shoulder. I turn to face her, and she waves me closer with her hand held up at the side of her mouth so no one can see what she’s saying.

She whispers to me, “Don’t worry. You count in this, too. Plus, you’re going to be Uncle Holden’s girlfriend.”

I’m speechless, which I think pleases her based on the grin she’s wearing, and she returns to her barstool.

The other women at the table all wear knowing smiles. I imagine Layla has done this several times. What none of them know, however, is that I don’t have that kind of freedom—freedom to follow my heart.

“All right, the guys should be here in about half an hour. We’ll let them each have one cinnamon roll before dinner, and they have to wait until after dinner to have a second one.”

Layla adds, “And if Uncle Harrison gets bossy, I’ll handle him.”

Laughter breaks out at the table, and we clean up our mess but leave the cinnamon rolls on the island for later.

“Lizzie, do you have keys to lock this kitchen?” Lydia asks.

“Yeah, I do.”

“I think we should lock it. I know my boys, and they won’t care what we tell them. If they know where these are, they will ravage them before we have time to eat dinner.”

After that, everyone leaves to go across the street to play and sit in the square except me. I have to prep for my practice lesson with the group in thirty minutes. I’m going to teach everyone here how to make meatloaf and roasted potatoes so that when my first event—a small group of teachers—happens next week, it’s not my first time.

I’m nervous but excited. As I’m setting things up, Delaney walks into the area.

“Hey, is everything okay? You need something to drink?” I ask her.

“No, I just thought that I’d help you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to, but if you want to, you can. Or just keep me company. I think I have pretty much everything prepared.”

“Okay, that’s good. That shows that you can do a lot of the prep ahead of time.”

“Yeah. I’m very nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous. This is family. Besides, Holden has been bragging about your cooking skills and your plans here nonstop, so I have to assume there’s at least some truth to it.”

I laugh. “Well, I’m embarrassed that he’s been bragging about it, but I hope his opinion is accurate. He and Simon have been my taste tasters for different recipes. He’s been so incredibly helpful to me.”

“Yeah, that’s Holden. He’d give you the shirt off his back if you needed it, and when any of us need help, he’s always the first to volunteer.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but I will say that I think he’s going a little above and beyond with you, so there must be a reason for that.”

There’s a slight smirk on her face, and I know she means there’s more to us than meets the eye.