“Hold up there, bucko. Let me get through this pregnancy first.”
Mom watches us, eyes rolling from Andrew to me. “You want more?”
I rub my belly. “Eventually.”
He kisses my cheek. “Four.”
“FOUR?” James and Mom gasp in unison.
Andrew gives his dad a flat look. “Sure. Have to do one better than you.”
“Hmph. I'm not too old to produce another child, you know. Don't poke my competitive streak,” James replies.
Poor Jason has just wandered over to us.
“Are you crazy? You'd be dead before the child turned eighteen!” A booming, unexpectedly caustic laugh makes everyone stare at him in surprise. For a mild-mannered guy, this is out of character.
“Clint Eastwood had a baby in his seventies,” James huffs. “I could, if I wanted to.”
“And I could have a surgeon cut off my arms and attach them to my forehead like horns if I wanted to, but I'd be crazy and there would be no point,” Jason shoots back, but his entire demeanor softens, as if he's realizing the fight isn't worth it.
“It doesn't matter,” Andrew interrupts. “You're not having more kids,” he says to James, “and even if you did, we'd just beat you by having another.”
“We would?” I squeak.
“What about us?” Declan demands, pointing between himself and Shannon, who startles like she's been hit with a cattle prod. “We could have five, if we wanted to.”
“FIVE?” Shannon screams in horror.
“FIVE?” Marie squeals with sheer delight.
Shannon turns on her mother, finger in her face like she's ready to give her a nasal swab test with her fingernail. “We are NOT having five kids!”
“But Declan just said–”
Shannon turns to her husband, same finger in his face. “We are not having five kids to fulfill some sick competitive streak of yours.”
“We'll talk later,” he says smoothly. He turns to Pam. “How are you doing? Shannon told me you learned the fibromyalgia might be caused by Lyme?”
Pam and Declan begin talking as Shannon stands there, gape-mouthed. Her husband has just smoothly finessed his way out of a fight.
“How does he do that?” she hisses. “I can't complain publicly because he's expressing compassion for Pam. But he left that grenade hanging without a pin!”
“He'll have to put the pin back in the slot someday,” I say with a wink.
Her eyebrow cocks. “Ooooo. Leverage.”
“Awwwwwwww,” comes a collective outburst from the living room. Shannon and I share a perplexed look and follow the crowd.
A slideshow is being projected on the wall.
Terry is holding baby Andrew in a photo, Declan behind them, playing with a toy truck, the 1990s on display.
In the present, James has a funny look on his face, arms folded over his chest. Andrew stands next to him, looking like his dad.
A hand goes to my shoulder and I turn to find yet another McCormick man in my Mom's house.
“Terry!” I say, instantly in a hug with my brother-in-law. Of the three McCormick boys, he's the most distanced from the family. The eldest, with the deepest voice, he's the rebel. He was groomed by James for greatness, but he quit Anterdec after their mother died and James handled it all so poorly, turning Declan into the scapegoat.
Terry lives in a duplex in Jamaica Plain. His income is from his mother's family trust, an annual sum that would support most families comfortably but that Andrew and Declan consider pocket change.
“Amanda.” His voice always gives me shivers, because Terry sounds like Barry White. Like everyone else, his eyes drift to my belly. “Can't believe I'll have two nephews soon. How are you feeling?”
“Heavily occupied. Literally.”
He laughs and looks around. “Nice place your mom has.”
“You've never been here before?”
He shakes his head. “No. I like Newton, though.”
“It's not quite JP.”
Before he can reply, Andrew walks over, thumbing the slideshow. “Can you believe Dad gave Pam those photos?”
“He has a soft spot for her. And it's great to see them again.” Terry frowns. “But notice how none of them have Mom in the picture?”
“I'm sure those just haven't been rotated through yet. Plus, she was probably taking the photos.” Andrew’s involuntarily first response is to defend James.
“Right. Sure.” Terry doesn't back down so much as he backs off, easily. “I'll bet that's it.”
Andrew's eyes narrow. “How's it going, bro?”
“Fine. I'm working on a cool hydroponics project.”
“Growing pot? Great growth market. We have some advisors helping us to look at capital investments in marijuana that might–”
“No. Tomatoes.”
“What?”
“Tomatoes. Hydroponic tomatoes.”
“Does that scale up?”
“I'll donate the extras to a food bank.”
It's like they're speaking two completely different languages with just enough overlap to make them think they aren't.
“You're learning hydroponics to... garden?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.” Andrew blinks. “Want a beer?”
Terry glances at their dad. “Hell, yeah.”
When Shannon and Mom asked me about throwing a baby shower, I had some terms:
1. No games. Marie's rousing rendition of Porn, Labor, or Constipation at Shannon's baby shower scarred me for life.
2. We'll do a video present opening. That's right–nothing live. I have a bladder the size of Ellie's attention span, and also, the thought of smiling nonstop while we open two of everything gives me hives. Carol told me that videotaping the presents was a new thing. I'll add the video to a private YouTube channel and send the link later. This also means giving every single gift its due attention, something I just can’t do at a big bash like this.
3. Cheeto cake.
So far, so good.
A small gasp to my right makes me turn. It's Mom, hand to her mouth, staring at the screen. Following her eyes, I see a picture of my dad cradling baby me in his right arm, holding a wrench in the other hand. Shirtless and very muscular, he has a huge streak of grease across his cheek and is grinning with abandon.
“Who's that hot dude?” Marie asks, spellbound.
Jason clears his throat and whispers in her ear.
“Oops,” she hisses, stuffing a piece of cauliflower in her mouth and chewing with an I'm sorry look at my mom.
“That's Leo?” James asks with a harumph of disapproval.
“Yes,” Mom says. “I–I put that in here because I felt the show should be balanced. I wanted to be fair.”
James suddenly looks a bit sick.
Terry nudges Andrew and gives him a Told you so, bro look that makes me realize he is, without question, a McCormick man.
And then James reaches in his jacket pocket, pulling out an old-fashioned photo envelope from the days when you had film developed. His fingers don't shake as he finds three little square cardboard pieces with film in the center. Mom connected an old slide projector to her more modern one.