Aunt Estella arrived at May’s house an hour before everyone else.
It was an old habit, one she’d developed during the years she lived in Rohan. Arrive early. Help with the cooking. Catch up on the gossip that couldn’t be shared when the subjects of that gossip were present. May’s kitchen was warm and fragrant, filled with the smell of ginger and garlic and something sweet baking in the oven. Rose was already there, seated at the kitchen table with a cup of tea.
"How is Arianne?" Rose asked, leaning forward. "Is she really dating that actor? The handsome one from the medical drama?"
"Noah Hart," May said. "I’ve seen the pictures. They’re always together at events. He looks at her like she hung the moon."
"She’s well," Estella said, her voice easy. "Both she and Gio are doing well in Montclair."
"And the baby? You mentioned you have a grandson now. Is Gio—"
"You’ll meet him soon. They’re on their way."
Rose set her cup down. "They? Who’s coming with her?"
"You’ll see. They should be here shortly."
May leaned forward. "Estella, you’re being very mysterious. Is there something you’re not telling us?"
"Several things," Estella said serenely. "But you’ll find out soon enough."
Before either of them could press further, the doorbell rang.
May stood, giving Estella a look that promised further interrogation later. "That must be them."
She crossed to the door and opened it.
Arianne stood on the doorstep. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders, and her expression was relaxed in a way May had never seen during all the years she’d lived next door. On either side of her were two young children—a girl in a blue dress with a purple dinosaur tucked under her arm, and a boy with dark, serious eyes and a stuffed whale clutched against his chest.
"May," Arianne said. "Thank you for having us."
"It’s been too long," May said, and meant it. "Far too long. Come in, come in. The children must be cold." She glanced behind Arianne, as if looking for someone. "Estella said you’d be bringing guests. And her grandson. Is he—"
Arianne stepped aside.
Behind her, filling the doorway, was a man holding an infant. The man was tall, with dark hair and a familiar face—a very familiar face, the kind of face that appeared on magazine covers and television screens and the occasional billboard. The baby in his arms was tiny, wrapped in a pale blue blanket, with a tuft of dark hair and round, alert eyes.
May’s hand flew to her mouth. "Oh. Oh, my."
The man smiled. It was a warm, open smile, the smile of someone who was used to this reaction. "I’m Franz Rochefort. This is our son, Alexis. Everyone calls him Lexx."
May stared at them for a long moment. Then she recovered herself, stepped back, and held the door wide. "Come in. All of you. Rose, put the kettle on. We’re going to need more tea."
The living room erupted.
Rose and the other women, including two more of Estella’s friends who had arrived in the interim, surrounded Franz with the energy of a flock of delighted birds. Arianne made the introductions: her husband, Franz Rochefort, and their son, Alexis. The elderly women pressed closer, their eyes wide with delighted disbelief.
"Noah Hart," Rose breathed. "In my friend’s living room. Holding a baby."
"I’ve watched all your films," another woman said, clasping her hands together. "The medical drama. The one where you played the surgeon. I never missed an episode."
"Thank you. That’s very kind," Franz said.
"Will there be a third season? We’ve been waiting for news."
"No official word yet. But if there is, you’ll be the first to know."
"We love the show," May added, shaking her head at herself. "We have a viewing group. Every week. We make snacks."
"That’s wonderful. I’ll tell the cast. They’ll be thrilled."
The women continued to circle him, asking questions about his career, his hiatus, how he was finding Rohan. Franz answered each one with patient warmth, the ease of someone who had been doing this for a long time. Lily and Leo had been ushered to the couch, where they sat with their toys and watched the whole thing with wide eyes.
May finally called everyone to the dining table. "The food is getting cold. You can interrogate him after dinner."
The table was laden with dishes—steaming fish, vegetables in fragrant sauce, rice, soups, and an elaborate platter of dumplings that May had spent the morning folding. The family took their seats, and the meal began.
"If I’d known you’d just given birth," May said, looking at Arianne, "I would have prepared recovery soup. The kind my mother used to make. For new mothers. It helps with the milk, helps with the healing. Very traditional."
"Aunt Estella made some for me," Arianne said. "She asked you for the recipe a few months ago."
May’s brow furrowed. Then her expression cleared. "The recipe! Yes, I remember. I thought—" She glanced at Estella. "I thought it was for Gio’s wife."
"Gio doesn’t have a wife," Estella said.
"I know that now. But at the time, you said you needed it for a new mother in the family, and I assumed—"
"You assumed Gio had gotten married."
"He’s the only other person in your family who could have had a baby! I didn’t know Arianne was married!"
The table laughed. Rose shook her head. "Poor Gio. We’ve been trying to set him up with your niece for years, and he’s still single."
"He’s married to his work," Aunt Estella said. "But I can still use the recipe if he ever settles down."
"I’ll hold you to that," May said.
Rose turned to Franz. "So that’s why you announced your hiatus. A new baby. Twins. A wife running a company. No wonder you needed time off."
"We did," Franz admitted. "Lexx wakes us up every few hours for feeding and diaper changes. There are a lot of diaper changes."
"How are you finding parenthood?"
"It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And the best." He glanced at Arianne. "I wouldn’t trade it for anything."