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She’d given up the pretense of closing her jacket. Instead, she used colorful scarves to keep warm. I knew because I’d crocheted three of them for her in the last two weeks. Along with a bunch of baby things she’d find out about soon enough.
“Will you fit?” I winced. “Sorry.”
“Hateful,” Erica muttered and slid into the booth, but no, her belly definitely didn’t fit. Rather than crying about it, she just inched back and put her feet up on the bench-style seat. “My feet are swollen anyway. Might as well put th
em up.”
“I can’t believe Jake let you out of his sight.” I hurried around the counter for a black coffee for my mother and a large glass of iced water for my sister. Thankfully, it was just before the lunch rush was due to start.
I skirted around the other waitress working today. “Polly, I’m going to take ten.”
“Okey doke.” She thumbed off a Lifesaver and the familiar clack of the candy rattling in her mouth followed me as I headed back to my family.
I set down their drinks and slid in next to my mom. “What brings you guys in?”
“I’ve been craving gravy fries.”
“We were shopping at Kinleigh’s and August’s for a bassinet, and she dragged me over here.” My mom pulled out a single Splenda from the small dish near the window and dumped it into her mug. “That’s too much salt for you.”
Erica rolled her eyes at our mom. “I don’t care.”
“Nena, your ankles are already softballs.”
“I don’t care,” she repeated. “I want fries with extra gravy and extra salt. And ice cream.” Erica made a big mound with her hands. “Maybe some fudge and extra cherries.”
I laughed. “Ivy’s truck is only open on weekends, but I can probably get some from the café. The kind we have here isn’t exciting.”
She grabbed my arm. “Could you?”
My mom pointed before she lifted her coffee to her lips. “Do not encourage her.”
Erica collapsed back against the wall. “I am—”
My mom’s mug snapped on the Formica table. “You are not the only woman who has been pregnant. Just look around this crazy town, mija. Jacob indulges you too much!”
Erica shoved on her sunglasses, but not without a quick eye roll that I was pretty sure our mother didn’t see.
Good thing. We both had a healthy fear of our mother—and for good reason. Being an amalgamation of Italian and Spanish meant she was definitely the hothead of the household. Our father could hold his own, but she viewed his behavior as similar to my brother-in-law’s.
We also had our dad wrapped. Put a little Elvis on and sit with him in the garden and we could pretty much get what we wanted. Not that I knew that from prior experience or anything.
Erica rested her hand on her belly. “Jake realizes that a happy wife means a happy life. That and he doesn’t like the couch.”
“I’ll remind you of that when it takes three extra months to lose the baby weight.”
Erica’s finger tapped on the red sweater stretched to capacity, but she didn’t bother replying. We could never win an argument, so it wasn’t worth trying. Especially this one. My sister was glowing with health, but she was indeed a bit more swollen than usual.
I knew she’d curse my name later when she was in the bathroom about eleven times, but it would cover us both. “Drink that whole glass of water, and I’ll make you a batch of my poutine.”
Erica’s eyes widened as she sat up straighter. “What?”
I shrugged. “I convinced Mitch to let me do the ordering for this week. I changed up the menu a little.”
She lifted the water glass and drained it, and then pushed it my way. “Well, hurry up.”
I swallowed a laugh when my mother gave me a narrow-eyed look. “What is this poutine?” My mother’s accent slid out like she was saying something disgusting.
“Heaven,” Erica said with a smile.
