Page 126 of What Happens at Nightfall

Jess pushed herself up on her elbows. “I thought Jacinta was a seamstress.”

“She was. This is her daughter, Jacinta Piatti the Younger. She trained as a glass cutter with Clara Driscoll, who became the head of the Tiffany Women’s Glass Cutting Department.”

“Oh, right. Jacinta Piatti Engel.” Jess remembered her mother telling her about her, so excited that they’d had an artist in the family. But then the whole demon showdown had happened and she’d kind of forgotten about it. It hadn’t seemed important at the time. “So Cornelia and Jacinta Piatti passed the baton on to Alice and Jacinta Engel.”

Women working together generation after generation. Kimmy would love it. If she ever got back from taking Davy to the bathroom.

“She was Jacinta Piatti when she worked there,” said Ingrid. “Not Engel. They made Jacinta leave the department when she got married. That was the policy back then.”

“Why are you looking at me like that’s my fault?” protested Cal.

“You’re the nearest available member of the patriarchy.”

“I wasn’t even born!” protested Cal. “At least now we know who made that window.”

“You think it’s just that window?” demanded Ingrid. “I bet you there are other unattributed windows in Green-Wood that are also Jacinta’s. She had to leave Tiffany but she went on taking private commissions.”

“That’s great,” said Adam testily. “Why don’t you guys go and try to find them all. Somewhere else.”

“Are you trying to get rid of us?” asked Ingrid. Comprehension dawned. “Oh, did you give it to her yet?”

Jess sat up. “Give me what?”

“Chicken.” Adam hastily pulled out a Tupperware from his battered old cooler, which was much less snazzy than Kimmy’s wicker picnic basket. “It’s a new recipe. Marry Me Chicken.”

“If you’re going to propose,” said Cal seriously, “you should do it with the ring, not chicken.”

Jess was beginning to get the distinct impression they knew something she didn’t. “Ring?”

Ingrid put her hands on her hips. “Please tell me you did not hide the ring in the chicken.”

“No! Go away. Not you. Them.”

“Ring?” repeated Jess. She couldn’t seem to find other words.

“So much for the big reveal,” muttered Adam. He looked apologetically at Jess. “I had a strange idea this would be romantic. Here. Have a plastic champagne flute.”

He plucked a plastic champagne flute and a split of prosecco out of the picnic basket, nearly dropping it as the drone whizzed low overhead, followed by Melinda.

“Have you proposed yet?” demanded Melinda.

“Stop messing with my drone,” retorted Adam, tugging ineffectually on the silver wrapper.

“Here, give that to me,” said Jess, taking the bottle from him. The cork came out with a satisfying pop, carbonated alcohol fizzing happily up over the edge. Jess handed it back to Adam. “Also, proposed?”

“I would if people would leave us alone!”

“Dad.” Ben came loping up. “Can I go back to the house? We need a second chess set.”

“Yes!” said Adam. “Ingrid and Cal can take you. Bring your sister and my drone. All of you, shoo.”

No one moved.

“I’m just here to document this meaningful moment,” said Melinda virtuously.

Everyone looked expectantly at them. Adam looked like he wanted to throw the picnic blanket over his head. Jess’s lips twitched, fighting to hold the laughter in. It was so wonderful and so ridiculous all at once. Rather like their lives.

“I knew I should have just booked us a flight to Barbados,” Adam muttered. He looked up at Jess with that glint in his eye she loved so much. “Can I have a Muggle?”