Page 30 of Last Call (Open Tab #5)

Fallon wasn’t sure what to think about the revelations regarding Dora Bath.

She was surprised at how much pain Dora’s stroke had caused for so many people she loved.

It probably shouldn’t have surprised her.

Riley always said there was a lot of history among everyone in Whiskey Springs.

She had reflected on the stories her mother, Andi, and Pete shared.

Did she keep secrets? No. Fallon didn’t really hide things about her past. She also wasn’t eager to revisit some of her memories, much less share them.

She’d told herself it was because no one could change what had already happened, and she needed to move forward.

It was true. There were no time machines to right old wrongs or stop injuries, illnesses, or losses before they happened.

Hindsight, as people liked to say, was always 20/20.

Except it wasn’t. Time allowed you to change your perspective, or maybe it just colored your vision.

Memory was a peculiar thing. It became clouded by emotion—by shame, guilt, and regret—as well as by a tendency to romanticize what had passed.

Some people looked back with more empathy, while others viewed it with harsher judgment.

Dora’s story could be anyone’s. What did Riley always say when she was editing a book? “Truth is stranger than fiction.”

“Fallon?”

“Sorry,” Fallon said. “I’m sorry about Dora, Mom.”

“Thank you. You know, she and Pat planned my first baby shower,” Ida offered.

Pat was Andi’s mother. She had been Ida’s closest friend—more like a sister.

Except for her father’s death, Fallon had never seen her mother as heartbroken as she was the day Pat Sherman died.

It was like she’d lost a piece of herself.

She imagined that Dora’s stroke brought back a flood of memories and a reminder that time was getting shorter by the day, a reality no one liked to admit.

“Enjoy the chaos of baby showers and birthdays,” Ida said. “They’re a lot more fun than funerals.”

“Mom.”

“What?” Ida asked. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not depressed. I’m aware. Don’t grumble over shopping or running around to parties, sports games, dances, and school concerts. Trust me.”

“Hey,” Riley greeted the pair. “It looks nice out here, Fallon.”

“Mm. Andi doesn’t know how to throw a party without inviting the entire town.”

“Don’t exaggerate,” Ida said.

Fallon lifted a brow.

“Not everyone who is coming lives in town,” Ida deadpanned. She grinned and went to find Andi.

“How does she seem?” Riley asked.

“Mom?”

Riley nodded.

“She’s Mom,” Fallon replied. “She’s okay.” Fallon looked to ensure no one was coming. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh, boy.”

“Funny, Riley.”

Riley smiled.

“I think we should visit Sylvia.”

Riley blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Is that a bad idea?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Maybe we could convince Mom to go with us. I think it’d be good for her, Riley. And it would be good for you and Owen, too.”

“Are you sure you want to visit Sylvia?”

“Sure. Why not? Unless you think it will bother her to see us together.”

“No,” Riley put the thought to rest. “She’s always singing your praises.”

Fallon grinned.

“Not every woman sings your praises,” Riley teased.

“Maybe not every one.”

“Mm. Dora may have proved to be a bigger fan than you thought. You still have Mary Branigan to deal with.”

“She is meaner than a nun.”

“How many nuns do you know?” Riley asked.

“Not the point. My grandmother told me the nuns whacked her with a ruler for whispering in class.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What? She did. She went to Catholic school until the ninth grade. And she said she blamed her arthritis on all the whacks the nuns gave her.”

Riley pursed her lips.

“It’s true, Riley.”

“Fallon!” Andi called. “Can you help Dave get the coolers from the garage?”

“Be right there!” Fallon yelled. “Our kids are never going to a Catholic school.”

“Because there are so many in Whiskey Springs,” Riley said.

“Just putting it out there,” Fallon said as she jogged back to the house.

Riley shook her head. “Where on earth does she come up with these ideas?” She chuckled.

Riley wished she could have known Fallon’s father.

She often heard people remark how much Fallon reminded them of James Foster.

Riley imagined that was true. Fallon was inherently curious, thoughtful, and playful, all qualities Ida possessed in spades.

“You’re in for a lot of stories, Riley,” she mused. “Endless. Stories.”

“I don’t think that apartment in Jeffersonville will fit all this baby stuff,” Fallon whispered to Riley.

Riley smacked her gently.

Fallon shrugged. “That pile is like the fish in Owen’s book.”

Riley looked at Fallon.

“I’m serious,” Fallon said. “The more Andi feeds these people, the bigger it gets.” Her eyes tracked to Dave and Jake as they walked into the kitchen.

Riley giggled. Only you, Fallon. She took Fallon’s hand and held it gently as Becky and Dave continued opening brightly wrapped boxes full of cute onesies, talking toys, and boxes of diapers.

Her gaze tracked to Carol as she accepted little PJ from Marge, rocking him gently.

Nearby, Beth passed Hope to Pete. She giggled softly when Pete grabbed the diaper bag and headed toward the house.

Babies. Babies were everywhere. Kids were everywhere.

Evan was kicking a soccer ball to Emily at the back of the yard, and Billie was wrangling Owen from the middle of their game.

Jacob claimed the seat beside her. “It’s like raining babies,” he commented.

“Feels like it, doesn’t it?”

“Carol, too?” he asked.

Riley nodded.

“Someone better open a daycare,” he joked.

“Someone might need to,” Riley thought silently. She looked at Jacob. “Did you get to spend time with Becky’s sister last night?”

“Yeah. She’s great. I can’t believe Becky’s parents aren’t here. What the hell is wrong with them?”

Riley sighed. She’d like to say it was their loss.

It was. They were missing out on the best parts of life—being a parent and becoming a grandparent.

Riley couldn’t imagine missing any milestones in her children’s lives.

Nothing Owen could do would make Riley turn her back on him.

Who did that? Who abandoned their kids because of some crazy ideas they read in a book or because someone screamed at them in a church? Ridiculous.

“I don’t get it,” Jacob said. “If you don’t want to be a parent, don’t have kids,” he said. “It’s funny. I think most people expect me to be the one who wants a big family. Turns out it’s Dave.”

Riley wondered how an unexpected pregnancy turned into the concept of a big family in Jacob’s mind.

“Dave and Becky will probably have a bunch,” he said.

“A bunch?”

“Of kids.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You don’t think so?” Jacob asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think they’ve thought that far ahead.”

“Dave told me last night he’s scared shitless, but he also can’t wait. He bought baby clothes when we were at the mall, Riley. Dave. My brother. Bought baby clothes.”

Riley laughed. “What did you get them?”

“Stuff.”

“Stuff?” Riley asked.

“Yeah. Stuff. Fun stuff. I don’t want to be anyone’s dad. I prefer to be the cool uncle who spoils and passes them back when they get smelly.”

Riley stared at Jacob for a moment before bursting into laughter.

Fallon and Riley had spent a few hours with Jacob the day before, discussing their plans to expand their family, wanting to ensure Jacob understood their expectations and that they understood his.

She’d left the conversation feeling confident in the decision that Jacob should be the person to help her and Fallon grow their family.

Sitting here, watching the parade of babies, listening to Jacob, she felt something unexpected: excitement.

Fallon leaned close to Riley. “I’m going to get something to eat.”

“Fallon,” Riley warned.

“Going to save Dave from Dad?” Jacob guessed.

“Maybe I’m just hungry,” Fallon replied.

“Nah. Dave asked me to rescue him if Dad got him cornered.”

“Then you go,” Fallon said.

“I’d rather sit here and drink wine with Riley. Besides, you're more invested in Dave keeping all his body parts.”

“What about my body parts?”

Jacob shuddered theatrically. “I don’t want to know about your lady bits.”

Riley coughed.

“Hey, you’re the one who gave him a full-time job,” Jacob said. “You rescue him. Besides, you're tougher than me.”

Fallon rolled her eyes. Lady bits? She stretched and walked toward the door.

Jacob and Riley laughed.

“Godspeed!” Jacob called out.

Fallon stepped into the kitchen expecting to find Dave and Jake. She turned to open the refrigerator when Dave bumped into her.

“New feet or new eyes?” Fallon teased.

“I needed an escape,” Dave said.

“From?”

“All the estrogen.”

Fallon laughed. “Pete is definitely hormonal.”

“You know what I mean.”

Fallon shrugged.

“They’re all talking about babies.”

“Um. It is your baby shower.”

“Yeah. I know. And it’s great. Really. It’s just—they’re talking about breastfeeding, Fallon!”

Fallon tried to imagine Pete’s face listening to that discussion. She chuckled.

“Even Billie is talking about it.”

“Well, Billie is a nurse. And she has breasts, so…”

“Fallon!”

“What?” Fallon feigned innocence.

“Sounds like a party in here,” Jake said, making his way to the refrigerator.

“Or a La Leche meeting,” Fallon said.

“Is that like a coffee thing or something?” Dave asked.

Fallon rolled her eyes. “Or something.”

“It’s a breastfeeding organization,” Jake explained.

“I don’t want to know how you know that,” Dave said.

“I have two kids,” Jake replied. “Who were breastfed.”

Dave shuddered, reached into the fridge, and held up the beer in his hand. “I’m going to get this to Billie,” he said.

Jake watched Dave disappear into the backyard, then turned his attention to Fallon.

“What are you thinking?” he asked Fallon pointedly.

“You mean teasing him about breastfeeding?” Fallon asked.