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I glance at the clock over the refrigerator. Right on time.

“Could you? I don’t feel like yelling.”

Mona hustles out of the kitchen and returns with three strapping young men, all with their instructions. They emptied the kitchen in no time, whisking away the big pot, placing the salad into the serving bowl. With efficiency and enthusiasm, they all help out to dress the table.

The front door opens again, changing the air in the room. I hear the sudden silence, the respectful tension.

“Liberty Jane, look at you!”

“Hi, Daddy,” I smile, bending my arms to get leverage to heave myself out of the chair.

“Am I late?” he asks me gently as he takes my elbow to help me to standing.

“No, you’re right on time. You’re always right on time.”

He dips his head, kissing my forehead before helping me to the dining room. I start to go to my usual place, but he directs me gently to the head of the table. Usually one of the men sits here. Not for any particular reason, just out of habit.

“Doesn’t look like you’re going to fit in any of the side chairs. Why don’t you sit here?” my dad says affectionately.

Who am I to argue? At this point, I just go with the flow. In every way, if there is a flow… I am going with it. Swollen ankles? Okay. Swollen anything else from neck to knees? Okay. Constant trips to the bathroom? You bet. Can’t sleep for more than an hour at a time? Okey-dokey.

I am easygoing, in the extreme.

It’s the only way to keep my sanity.

“Well, dig in, everybody!” I announce.

I don’t have to tell them twice. Everybody goes for it with gusto, ladling heaping servings onto their plates. Even Mona ends up with a generous helping of everything.

“This is delicious, Libby,” Will smiles.

Ever thoughtful, he has been beyond doting. He’s given me hundreds of foot rubs. Made several late-night trips to the grocery store for éclairs and olives, my guilty cravings.

“Thanks, Will.”

“Amazing,” Cass adds with his cheeks stuffed.

Cass has been busy planning for the future. He outfitted the nursery all by himself, painting the walls and hanging wallpaper. He even refinished the floors, scraping them by hand to keep the dust down.

As we eat, I keep my antenna up to sense changes in the room. We have never talked about it openly, but my father seems to have accepted whatever situation we three have. As in all things, there are some questions that don’t need to be asked.

He is not terrifically warm to them, but it is better. Once in a while I even see him crack a smile. Like, almost. Okay, maybe not like a whole smile. But something in the smile family.

“This is really wonderful,” Mona grins. “Thank you for inviting us!”

“Thank you for coming!” I answer automatically. “When are you guys moving?”

Carson reaches across the table for another slab of crusty white bread before answering.

“Two weeks,” he nods as he butters the bread. “We will be all moved in before you go into labor.”

“Do you think you can hold off for two more weeks?” Mona adds, alarmed. “I did just tell them to hurry up…”

“Don’t even worry about it. If they listened to directions, they would’ve been out a month ago. Two weeks should be fine. That’s what they’re telling me, anyway.”

“Okay, well, I’m just glad I’m going to be here! It’s going to be so much fun living next door to each other again!”

“I’m going to miss you in the neighborhood,” my dad adds.