A Proper Wife

“Why?”

“Well, because you have to,” Ryan said reasonably, “especially if you want a slice of Grandpa’s birthday cake.”

His daughter hesitated. Ryan could see her need to assert herself silently warring with the knowledge that neither her father nor her mother would tolerate much nonsense before gently lowering the boom. It was hard not to smile. His daughter was like a miniature of his wife, feisty, independent, and utterly adorable.

Susannah sighed. “OK.” Her lips turned up in a sunny smile. “Can I have my cake with ice cream?”

“Of course you can, precious,” Agnes Kincaid said before Ryan could open his mouth. She held out her hand. “You come with Granny, darling. I’ll help you wash up and then you can decide if you want vanilla ice cream or if you’d rather pick a different flavor from the freezer.”

Ryan got to his feet and sighed dramatically as Agnes whisked his daughter away.

“Grandfather,” he said, “you’ve really met your match.”

James chuckled. “That’s why I married her, my boy. How could I have let such a gem slip away?”

Ryan smiled and sat down beside the old man. “Bettina’s coming for a visit next month,” he said quietly.

“Good. We haven’t seen her in quite some time.”

“No. Not since Jamie was born.”

The older man nodded. “Is Devon looking forward to the visit?”

“It was her idea. I don’t think they’ll ever be close, Grandfather.” He smiled slightly. “I mean, this isn’t going to turn into anybody’s version of a mother-daughter relationship made in heaven, but they’ve made peace with each other.”

James patted Ryan’s hand. “I’m happy to hear it, my boy. The older one gets, the more foolish it seems to hold old grudges.”

“Hello, everybody.”

Ryan, James and Devon all looked around. Frank Ross was standing in the doorway, smiling nervously.

“Frank,” Ryan said happily. A grin stretched across his face as he jumped to his feet and hurried toward his oldest friend, his hand outstretched. “I’m glad you could make it, old buddy. How’ve you...”

Ryan fell silent as a petite, pretty redhead stepped out from behind Frank’s bulky shape.

“Hello,” she said. “I hope I’m not in the way. I told Frank there was nothing worse than taking an uninvited guest to a party, but he insisted.”

There was a silence and then Devon plunked little Jamie into his grandfather’s welcoming arms, and rushed forward.

“Of course you’re not in the way.” Devon held out her hand. “I’m Devon Kincaid. This is my husband, Ryan, his grandfather, James, and that bouncing bundle of energy is our son, Jamie.”

The redhead smiled at everybody and took Devon’s hand. “I’ve heard so much about you... I feel as if I know you all. My name is Sarah. And I‘m—I’m—”

“She’s my wife,” Frank blurted, his face turning a bright red.

Ryan stared at his old friend and then he began to grin.

“You sly old so-and-so! You’ve been keeping secrets!”

Frank’s color deepened. “Yeah, well, I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure she would have me.”

Sarah made a face. “As if I’d have given him the chance to get away,” she said, and gave her husband a smile filled with love. The smile he gave her in return was enough to melt the polar ice caps.

“And then,” Frank said, “then, well, we thought we’d announce our engagement and have a wedding in a couple of weeks.” He looked at Ryan. “But then I remembered your wedding, well, yours and Devon’s, and what a nervous wreck you were...oh, jeez, Devon, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”

Devon laughed and linked her arm through Sarah’s. “Frank’s understating it,” she said. “We weren’t nervous, we were petrified. Come on, let me search out the rest of the crew for introductions and maybe, by the time we get back here for cake and coffee, my husband and your husband will have recovered from their mutual shock.”

Ryan waited until the laughing women had disappeared. Then he clapped Frank on the back.