The Arrangement 26 (The Arrangement 26)
“Years have passed, Aunt Constance. We shouldn’t have just sprung this on her.” Before Bryan can say another word, Hallie steps closer to him and lifts on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek, and then his lips while holding the toddler in her arms.
“Is it too late for us, Bryan? Have you moved on?” Hallie asks, her eyes wide and glassy. “I can go back home and—”
Bryan doesn’t let her finish the sentence. His mouth is on hers, his hands on her cheeks, pushing back tears that start falling. He pulls back and looks at the little boy, his son, who has his face buried in his mother’s neck. “He’s really mine?”
“Completely. He’s just like you. Full of sunshine and laughter.”
For the first time, I see Bryan’s old smile. That crooked Ferro grin. He kisses the top of Hallie’s head and smiles so hard that he can’t stop. Hallie continues to watch him as if he might vanish. Her hand is on his arm when she turns to me and scowls. “You said you needed to give me something that belonged to Bryan.”
“Yes. I did. Bryan’s body was sitting here, but his heart was with you.”
Hallie’s sweet smile makes me feel like glitter is rushing through my veins. “Thank you. To everyone who brought him back to me.”
A chair is pulled out for Hallie as the twins are passed around the table. When Constance is holding the baby girl, I tap my champagne flute with my knife and stand up. It’s a totally middle-class thing to do, but I always liked the sound, and the ring against pure crystal is perfect. It’s like a bell.
“Constance, would you like to know the names of your grandbabies?”
She grins a full-blown, wolfish smile. “Yes, I would. I need to call the calligrapher back to add their names in gold to the family Bible amongst other things.”
“Baby 1 and Babybaby Pants were real contenders,” Sean explains deadpan, and then adds, “but there were a few names more suited to the little ones. And how crazy their life was before they were born. How strong they both are. So, we’ve named our son Stone Stanz Ferro—the strongest of the strong and bravest of the brave.”
Peter nods, liking it. “So your child is Rock Punching Iron?”
Jon pushes off the edge of the table and back into his seat. “That’s fucking awesome! Ah, sorry. I mean it’s cool. That’s going to be one badass kid.” Jon gets elbowed for his language again, but I don’t mind. Hallie is the one with a child old enough to repeat what he hears.
“Punching?” I ask Peter.
“Your last name means punching in German. There’s a variant in other tongues, but it basically means the same thing—to fight. The name always suited you.” He lifts a glass and everyone at the table follows suit.
“What are you naming your daughter, Avery?” My mother asks me from the other end of the room, cooing with Constance to my little baby girl.
“That was tricky. We wanted a name that was strong and beautiful. Something that was uniquely hers, and held traditions we value.” And NOT the name in my nightmares, Abby. I glance at Sean. “So, her name is Isolde Constance Consiglia Ferro.”
Cassie turns to my mother, “Your name is Consiglia?” My mother nods.
“Isolde?” Sidney questions. “For the story? Or the meaning?”
Before I can reply, Jon asks, “What’s the meaning of Isolde?”
Peter straightens up and explains, “Ice, iron, and battle. It’s a combination of all three words. Most likely Germanic roots? So she named her girl Ferro Ferro. Like Markey Mark.”
I wad up my cloth napkin and throw it at him. “I did not!”
“It’s a fine name,” Constance offers over the uproar. “She’ll be brave and strong like her mother and grandmothers. I like it. Isolde and Stone Ferro. Plus their little cousin Bryan, named for his father, no doubt.”
“Of course,” Hallie replied with the baby on her lap. He was shoving a scone in his mouth that was covered in jam. Pink streaks of slobber leaked from the corners of his lips as he tried to eat the entire pastry at once. Hallie took it out and broke it into pieces. The baby smiled and popped one in his mouth. Bryan was watching him, sitting in the next chair, face lowered—just staring in awe—when his son lifted a slobbery piece toward him.
The little voice said, “You eat it. Mmmmmmmm.”
Without any hesitation, Bryan popped the slobbery bread into his mouth and said, “Mmmmmmmmm.”
Everyone laughed because at that moment, happiness reigned and all was right in the Ferro house.
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