“Pass the sauce, please,” Dad says, and Nina, sitting next to him, cheerfully hands him the pot. It’s the last night before I have to go back to Boston, and my family has gathered at the lodge, upon Kay’s and my invitation.
During the Oregon fall and beginnings of winter, Nina’s skin has lost most of its tan, and it looks as though she’s gained some weight, but she’s still here, and that’s what matters. She still hasn’t booked her return ticket.
“I need to make up for lost time,” she told me when I quizzed her about it a week ago. “I can’t just leave again.” I knew exactly how she felt.
“I have an announcement to make,” I say, once everyone is settled with a satisfying plate of Kay’s pot roast in front of them.
“Oh my god, you’re pregnant,” Nina chirps, because she just can’t help hers
