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As much as Becca hated to admit it, it was a good question. Nick always seemed to skirt the issue when family came up. She was curious to know more about his folks. She knew his younger brother had passed away much too early, but she had no idea if he had other siblings.
“My mother is no longer living,” Nick said in a very matter-of-fact tone. “My father lives in Florida. So, no, I won’t see him for Thanksgiving.”
“Did you invite him for the holiday?”
“I’m sure he has to work.”
“Couldn’t he make time?”
“Mom, really? Don’t you think you’ve interrogated Nick enough for tonight?”
Isabel pinned Becca with a withering glare. “Rebecca, this man is the father of our grandchildren. I don’t think it’s out of line to ask a few questions to get to know him.
“Have you broken the news about the twins to him yet?” she pressed.
“No, not yet. We wanted to share it with you and Mr. Flannigan first.”
Ooh! Brownie points. Nice touch, Nick.
To Becca’s surprise, Isabel’s face softened.
“Since you have no family in town, we will set a place for you at our table.”
Becca blinked. Nick didn’t know this, but this was a huge gesture on her mother’s part. She guarded her holidays zealously. They were for family only. In fact, her brother Mark’s wife, Beth, had not been invited until after she and Mark were engaged. It seemed that Nick had managed to skip a couple of steps. Or maybe babies trumped marriage? Who knew what logic Isabel applied.
“That’s a very gracious offer,” Nick said. “But I’m scheduled to work Thursday.”
The silence was deafening.
“But I’m scheduled for the early shift this week. How about if I come over after I get off work?”
“Nick, you’ll be exhausted. Mom, he works twelve-hour shifts. I’m sure he doesn’t want to come after work.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Rebecca. It’s Thanksgiving. It’s when families get together. And it will be as good a time as any for the two of you to announce the pregnancy and any other plans you might come up with between now and then.”
* * *
Tuesday evening after leaving her parents’ house, Becca was certain of two things: first, Nick had managed the impossible—he had basically charmed her mother into submission—and second, she was falling in love with Nick. He’d walked that fine line between saying the right things and not kowtowing.
Since Nick had agreed to endure Thanksgiving Flannigan-style, she’d given him some space Wednesday night. He had to work the 7:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. shift. He was sure to be exhausted.
But Becca would’ve been lying to herself if she didn’t admit she’d been a little disappointed when he hadn’t called last night. Of course, she hadn’t called him, either—hence the giving him space part. But it was the first day that had gone by since they’d received the results of the pregnancy test that they hadn’t at least texted.
On Thursday morning, she picked up her phone, brought up his number and sent him a message:
Happy Thanksgiving! Looking forward to seeing you tonight.
She stared at the screen expectantly for a moment, tamping down the hope that he would text her right back.
But he didn’t.
She swallowed her disappointment. He was working. He’d been there since before she’d even gotten out of bed. She needed to cut him some slack.
Mandatory family dinners were never easy to get through. They usually involved at least thirty relatives. Of course, there were her mother’s judgmental comments and her sister’s temperamental prickliness. Someone always had too much to drink and ended up saying or doing something that offended someone else.
For the most part, it was like a three-ring circus.
Her aunts and uncles were generally pleasant, for the most part. Mark and Beth were nice and Becca tried to stick with them or at least fly under the radar until she’d helped wash, dry and put away the last dish, and she could take her leave until the next time.
What was it like to be part of a family that wasn’t quite so dysfunctional?
As she took the pumpkin pies she’d prepared from scratch out of the oven, she vowed when her daughters were born she would do everything in her power to foster a good relationship with them. Daughters? Well, that was a Freudian slip if she’d ever heard one. She had no idea what the sex of her babies would be—if they were fraternal or identical—and, yes, when it came right down to it, she simply wanted healthy children, whatever the sex. Still, deep inside she knew she’d love to have a couple of little girls with whom she could have a good relationship and do all of the things she wished she and her mother could have done and shared.
