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Tristan, ever the polite guest, offered, “Maybe it’s a local custom? Good luck for new beginnings?”

I let the suggestion hang in the air, not wanting to be rude. I wiped my hands on my dress, decided to face the situation head-on, and slipped out the front door.

The heat hit me first—already steamy at eleven in the morning. The grass was soft, almost spongy, beneath my bare feet. The gnomes were arranged in two neat rows, facing each other, as though they were about to march in a tiny, terracotta parade.

I stooped and picked up one. It had a sunflower hat and a gap-toothed grin. I inspected it, looking for a tag or note or some clue, but found nothing. There were faint scratches on the base, as though it had lived outdoors for years. I set it back down and surveyed the lineup. There were more gnomes by the mailbox. A few clustered around the roots of a big cypress tree. Another peered out from behind the azaleas with what I could only describe as malice.

I felt the prickling on my skin again—the sensation of being observed. I spun, expecting to see a neighbor or, god forbid, the “Gnome Bomber” in the act, but the lawn was empty. Even the air felt hushed, as though the gnomes themselves were holding their breath.

The driveway gravel crunched behind me. Etienne was back, accompanied by Hugo and Lisette, each balancing boxes of pastry like precious cargo. Guy, the youngest Dubois brother, followed with a tray of deviled eggs and the demeanor of someone who considered pranks to be a form of high art.

“Wow,” Guy said, whistling as he eyed the gnomes. “I didn’t know you had a thing for lawn ornaments, Mally.”

“I do not have a thing for lawn ornaments,” I said, a little too loudly.

Hugo set down his box and inspected the nearest gnome. “Can I have one for my room?”

“We’ll see,” I said vaguely even though I had no intention of keeping any of these creepy things.

Lisette looked at the lineup and wrinkled her nose. “Some of them are staring at each other.”

Etienne’s brow furrowed as he took in the scene. “This is new,” he said, clearly confused too. He turned to me. “Did you order these?”

“No,” I replied. “They just… showed up.”

Guy picked up a particularly lewd gnome, who was mooning the mailbox, and burst out laughing. “This one’s got some attitude. Maybe the pack sent them as a joke?”

Etienne shrugged. “Possible.”

I looked at him, searching for reassurance, but he just looked bemused. “Should we move them?” I asked.

He considered. “Let’s leave them for now. Maybe someone will come claim them after the party. If not, we can compost them.”

Guy howled. “You’re going to turn the gnomes into mulch? That’s cold, even for you.”

“They’re not real,” Etienne said. “Besides, I’m not a fan.”

“I agree,” I said. “I just find them…unsettling.”

Hugo tugged at my hand. “They’re funny, though. Can I hide one in the guest bathroom?”

I sighed. “Just don’t let it fall in the toilet.”

He grinned, which was always dangerous. “No promises.”

I gathered up the family, steered everyone inside, and tried to refocus on the impending brunch and our announcement. I couldn’t believe our big news was being upstaged by lawn ornaments.

Soon, my mother and JR as well as my stepbrothers, Ghede and Sam, joined the group. The house was suddenly filled with noise and warmth and the yeasty aroma of baked goods, and for a brief moment, I managed to forget about the gnomes entirely.

I was surprised to see that even Sue, my mentor, had come of the brunch. She rarely left the bayou, which was evident by the dirty housedress she wore and the bits of leaves she had clinging to her snared gray hair.

But I truly adored the gruff old lady.

“I’m glad you made it here today,” I said, offering her a cup of coffee.

She ignored it and snagged a mimosa and a beignet off the dining room table. “I wouldn’t miss it. It isn’t every day we get to celebrate a new baby.”

Her loud announcement caused the crowded and noisy dining room to fall utterly silent.