Natalie took her arm and tugged her back. “Shh, it’s nothing.”
Addison raised an eyebrow. “Alice. Why don’t you tell Chloe about your book signing in Toronto?”
Alice’s eyes darted back and forth until she agreed. “Sure, but only if you tell me about that kid you helped get into Harvard. James was telling me about it, but he’s no storyteller. I need all the details.” Their trio stalked off to another booth, leaving Natalie and Mallory to continue their baby talk.
Mallory placed her fingers on CeCe’s wrist, checking her pulse before lowering her voice. “I always keep a portable blood pressure cuff in my car. I’m going to dip out the back and grab it, you stay here.”
CeCe made to get up, but Natalie placed her hand on her shoulder. “Sit still. The more you move around, the more obvious it is that something is going on.”
CeCe deflated back into her seat and scowled. “I’m never getting pregnant again,” she muttered.
Mallory strode into the kitchen, being careful to keep her gaze off her brother. If Evan suspected anything was up, he’d turn into a tornado of anxiety. She spotted Beckett helping James fold cloth napkins in the far counter, and she snagged his eye.
“You mind if I take a quick break?” Beckett asked, holding up a sad excuse for a flower. The fabric wilted in his grasp, a limp ball of linen.
James blinked at the bundled fabric and winced. “Yeah, man. No problem. I’ve got it.” Casting a look over his shoulder at Mallory, he added, “Take your time.”
Beckett hesitated a moment before comparing his monstrosity with James’s artfully folded lotus flowers. James may work primarily in paints, but he could certainly give napkin artists a run for their money—if that profession even exists. “Thanks,” he mumbled before following his wife outside.
As soon as she stepped into the cold air, Mallory exhaled. Beckett closed the door behind them and caught up to his wife in two strides. “What’s going on?” he asked, taking her hand and squeezing, snowflakes already coating his red hair.
“Hopefully nothing,” she whispered, opening the trunk and pulling out a tote bag.
Beckett blanched at the sight of her medical kit. “Oh boy, what’s going on?” His eyes grazed over his wife from head to toe. “I’m guessing this isn’t for you.”
Mallory looked over her shoulder again to ensure they were alone. “It’s CeCe. I think she might be in labor.”
“Holy crap.” Beckett gasped, rocking back on his heels. “Should we call an ambulance?”
Shaking her head, Mallory hoisted the bag up her shoulder. “I don’t think we’re there yet. I want to check her blood pressure and a few other things.” Lowering her voice further, she added, “And needless to say, don’t say a freaking word to Ev. He’ll lose his mind.”
Beckett mimicked zipping his mouth shut and nodded. “Let me go in first, just in case he sees you with your bag. Ev’s distracted, but he’s not an idiot.”
Mallory huffed out a laugh. “Great idea.”
But a distraction wasn’t needed, as a parade of Buckeyes marched up the parking lot. “Hold the door,” Helen shouted, waving her hands over her head. Mallory hardly recognized the older woman outside her diner uniform. She looked smart in a red pantsuit, her gray hair swept back in a bun.
“Helen? Trudy?” Mallory’s head whipped toward their new mayor. “Mayor Josh?”
The group surrounded Beckett and Mallory, each wearing different expressions. “Hey,” Josh said, awkwardly waving. “We uh, had a change in plans with Christmas.” He was clad in a suit that seemed two sizes too big, the fabric hanging off his young frame. Trudy was dressed for a day at the office in a charcoal dress and a green cardigan.
Trudy huffed, reaching out to pinch his earlobe. “What my grandson is saying”—she sighed with the annoyance only a loving grandmother could provide—“is he made reservations for a hoity-toity Christmas dinner in Columbus, which is an hour away.”
Helen helped her friend, nodding with each word. “And neither one of us wants to die on Route 70 because he’s craving a steak.”
The younger man flushed but soldiered on. “I know the diner isn’ttechnicallyopen,” he hedged, his tone slipping into politics, “but Helen mentioned Max was hosting his friends and family, and aren’t we really all like family?”
Mallory opened her mouth to respond when Anthony opened the back door. “Everything okay out here?” His question faltered when he caught sight of the new arrivals. “Trudy?” He stomped down the steps and welcomed his former assistant with a warm hug. “What are you doing here?” He looked quickly to Josh before lowering his voice. “I thought you were going to Columbus tonight?”
Trudy rolled her eyes. “I’m not dying today, Anthony.”
Anthony shook his head, stifling a laugh. “I’m not sure I follow.”
Josh stepped closer, pulling his shoulders back, trying to look like an authority figure in the presence of his predecessor. “I’m willing to drive, but Grandma and Helen are convinced the roads are too bad.”
“Hello?” Helen asked, flapping her arms around at the still falling snow. “It’s a blizzard, Joshy.”
Josh’s ears burned crimson, and he hissed. “Aunt Helen, can you please stop calling me Joshy? I’m the mayor.”
