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“Let me.” I took her plate, adding small portions.

“I can do it.”

“I know.”

Conversation flowed around us, carefully avoiding the last few days. Randy talked about a construction project. Seth complained about his boss. Normal family dinner conversation, except for the way everyone kept glancing at Joy's sling.

Halfway through the meal, Cobb cleared his throat. “Graham.”

Everyone went quiet.

“Sir?”

“My daughter says she's staying with you.”

It wasn't a question, but it felt like one. “Yes.”

His jaw worked. “I'm not thrilled about it.”

“Dad—” Joy started.

“Let me finish.” He held up his hand. “I'm not thrilled, but I saw how you were at the hospital. How you wouldn't leave her side.” He paused. “You'll take care of her?”

“Always.”

He nodded slowly. “Then I guess that's that.”

Sarah made a small sound—part sob, part laugh. “My baby's really grown up.”

“Mom, I'm twenty-four.”

“You'll always be my baby.”

“Speaking of babies,” Emmie grinned wickedly. “When do I get to be an aunt?”

Joy choked on her water. I pounded her back gently.

“Emmie!” Sarah scolded.

“What? I'm just asking what everyone's thinking.”

“No one's thinking that.” Seth growled.

“I am.” Little Grandma's eyes twinkled. “This family needs more babies.”

“Can we please talk about something else?” Joy's face was crimson.

“I have pie.” Sarah stood abruptly. “Four pies.”

The entire Magill family groaned in unison.

“Only four?” I asked.

“See?” Sarah pointed at me. “He appreciates my baking.”

“That's because he hasn't lived through a seventeen-pie week,” Randy muttered.

Twenty minutes later, we were finally at the door. Everyone had hugged Joy carefully, and Sarah had packed enough leftovers for a week.