Page 84 of Rhodes

"So it's quieter, then," Libba says. "How about that?"

Reeves lifts his glass an inch. "To the ones who didn't bail."

"To Coop's tiny Spanish barnacles," I say, and Granger laughs into his wine.

Across the table, Tallulah dips a piece of bread in olive oil and passes the dark green bottle down without looking at me. "At least nobody's ordering the whole fish tonight."

"Don't," I tell her.

"I'm only saying. Some people can't be trusted around a fish."

"That fish had it coming."

Libba's head turns between us. "What fish?"

"Nothing," we say, close enough to together that I worry it might register as something akin to a couple finishing each other's sentences.

I reach for bread I don't want and tear it and keep my face easy. This is supposed to be the easy part, both families at one table, something we've done a hundred times.

Under the table, her foot finds my ankle. It stays there, sliding slowly along my boot.

I don't look at her. I take a sip of the wine I've barely touched and set the glass back in the ring it left. Wade has Reeves going about two Italian guys who nearly threw hands at the trailhead this morning, and the table laughs, and I laugh half a beat late because I haven't heard a word since her foot found me.

Her toes press once into the inside of my ankle. I'm holding my piece of bread like it's the only thing keeping me in the chair.

Libba's looking at us. Her eyes go to Tallulah, then to me, then back, like she's checking her math.

"Banksie." I get in before she finishes the sum. "Tell us about the time you drove your daddy's truck into the pluff mud on a bet. That's still my favorite."

Banksie lights up. "Now that's a story."

Libba lets it drop, but she files it somewhere behind her eyes and reaches for her water.

Banksie's off, and we've all heard it a dozen times, and we lean in anyway.

Under the table, her foot slides back to her own side as she leans in to add her piece, grinning.

Down the table, Reeves catches my eye and tips his head toward the terrace steps. I follow him down. The party stays up top where the light is. The stone shelf at the bottom has a rail and nothing past it but black water.

He leans on the rail. Ice clicks when he turns the glass.

"You're loose tonight," he says.

"I'm always loose."

"No." He keeps his eyes on the water. "Not like this."

I set my forearms on the cold stone and don't say anything. Neither does he. Reeves can stand in quiet longer than anyone I know, in no hurry.

"Haven't seen you like this in years," he says. "Something's gotten into you."

"Good wine, better company." I shrug. "I like having all of us in one place. Doesn't happen much anymore. Not since Lizzy, and Dad before that."

Above us, the music shifts and somebody laughs. I realize it’s Libba. It's always Libba with her big personality and endless supply of light fun.

Reeves turns the glass again and the ice slides.

"Family's a strange thing," he says. "You spend your whole life sure it's the one thing you'd never touch. Then you find out what you'll do to keep it. What you're willing to do for the ones who are yours."