Kelley stands up to shake Drake’s hand. “Welcome to the family, Dr. Carroll. I heartily approve.”

“Well, it’s always good to get approval from the ex-husband,” Drake says, grinning.

“That’s wonderful news!” Mitzi says. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Margaret says. “It is wonderful news. Just please don’t tell anyone yet. I don’t want to see it on Page Six tomorrow morning. I’ll let my publicist know when I get back to New York.”

“I’m happy for you, Mom,” Kevin says. Their drinks arrive along with two baskets of warm rolls, scones, and crisp, delicate grissini. Kevin downs half his beer instantly and takes a giant bite of a cheesy scone. He’s starving. He has a toast prepared, but he wants to wait until everyone else arrives.

They sit in an increasingly awkward silence as they wait for Ava, Jennifer, and the boys. There are two extra seats at the table, meant symbolically for Patrick and Bart. This was Kevin’s idea. He misses his brothers. His whole life he has been defined by being squeezed between them. He had thought that with them gone, he might change into a different kind of person, but as it turns out, he’s exactly the same. He’s a lover, not a fighter, he wants peace more than money, and his greatest dream is a family of his own.

Kevin hears Jennifer before he sees her. She is shouting at Barrett, and when Kevin turns around, she’s pulling Barrett toward the table by the sleeve of his blazer.

“It does not smell funny in here,” Jennifer says. “You will sit and eat with our family.”

“There are my handsome grandsons,” Margaret says diplomatically.

Pierce and Jaime take seats at the table without fanfare; Pierce even puts his napkin on his lap.

“This isn’t our family,” Barrett says. “This is Dad’s family, and Dad’s not even here.”

Kelley stands up and takes Barrett by the arm. “Outside,” he says. “Now.”

“But Grandpa,” Barrett says.

“Now,” Kelley says.

Jennifer collapses in a chair. “Chardonnay, please,” she says to the waiter. She drops her head in her hands. “I’ve had it with that kid. I have… had it.”

“I was worse when I was that age,” Kevin says. “I promise you.”

Jennifer tousles Jaime’s hair. He wriggles under her hand and excuses himself for the bathroom. Pierce gets up to follow him, and Jennifer says, “Not both of you at once.”

“But I have to go, too,” Pierce says.

“Fine!” Jennifer says. “Go, then!” She turns back to the adults. “It’s just so hard doing everything by myself. For the past year, I’ve been their mother and their father. And I’m trying to build my business and generate income, in case Patrick doesn’t get hired right away when he gets out. It’s exhausting.” She looks at Kevin, Kelley, Margaret. “I need help. Can’t you people see that I need help? I know the kids play too many video games. I know they should be outside throwing the lacrosse ball, or I should be teaching them cribbage. I know I should be reading to Jaime at night. I read all seven Harry Potter books to Barrett and all three Hunger Games books to Pierce. The youngest always gets short shrift and it’s not fair. Is it any wonder he crawls into bed with me every night? He needs my attention and the only time he can get it is when I’m asleep.” Jennifer points at Genevieve, asleep in Isabelle’s arms. “I want that back. I want the cooing, the gummy smiles. I want them before they learn how to talk. I want them before they start to hate me.”

“Jennifer,” Margaret says, “they do not hate you.”

“Barrett does,” Jennifer says. “He wishes I had gone to jail instead of Patrick…”

“No,” Mitzi says.

“His words, verbatim,” Jennifer says. “And you know what I told Barrett? I told him that I would never be the one to go to jail because I would never, ever have made the thoughtless, morally corrupt choices that his father made.”

Whoa. Kevin—and everyone else at the table—sit in a stunned silence. Even Margaret, the woman who has a silver-tongued response for everything, is staring at Jennifer in a horrified stupor. Part of the surprise is how uncharacteristic this outburst is coming from Jennifer. The woman is so cool, so together. Kevin has always thought Patrick was lucky to have found Jennifer, but never more so than this past year when Jennifer stood by her man and somehow managed to keep their domestic life intact. She took the boys to lacrosse practice, she made chicken pot pie from scratch.

Jennifer’s voice is too loud for the restaurant. Tables around them have quieted and are, no doubt, listening in on the Quinn family drama. The waiter, perhaps thinking that Jennifer is complaining about the service, brings Jennifer’s wine and gives menus to everyone at the table.

Kevin says, “Can we get two orders of calamari right away? And some potato skins for the boys.”

The waiter nods, then gets the heck out of there.

Margaret says, “You’re right, Jennifer, you’re right. Patrick’s actions were shortsighted and greedy. He has done you and the boys a great disservice.”

Whoa again, Kevin thinks. In thirty-seven years, Kevin has never heard Margaret say a negative word about Patrick. Okay, that’s probably hyperbole. But it’s pretty well documented that Patrick is Margaret’s favorite, even if she would never admit it. He’s probably Kelley’s favorite as well. The firstborn son, the heir to the Quinn family throne, the golden child.

Kevin isn’t pleased that the conversation has turned to Patrick on the day of Genevieve’s christening. And, he hasn’t forgotten, he’s angry at Jennifer for not giving him the heads-up about Norah!

Where on earth is Ava? Kevin wonders.

Kelley returns to the table with a seemingly chastened Barrett.

“Sorry, Mom,” Barrett mumbles.

Jennifer mops her face with a napkin. She has completely lost her composure. It’s almost as if it isn’t Jennifer Barrett Quinn at the table, but rather her doppelgänger, or a Jennifer who has been body-snatched and replaced by an alien.

Is she on something? Kevin wonders.

“Wow,” Kelley says. “You all look totally miserable. What did I miss?”

“Can we order?” Kevin asks. “Please?”

Pierce and Jaime return to their seats. Pierce is holding a sprig of mistletoe he must have stolen from somewhere in the restaurant. He holds it over his mother’s head and gives her a kiss. This gets a smile out of her.

“I think I’ll have the lobster bisque,” Drake says.

“Does anyone remember the time…,” Kelley says.

“Yes, Dad,” Kevin says. Quinn Family Legend, he thinks: the Sea Grille edition. Kelley once ordered the lobster bisque, which comes covered with a dill puff pastry. When Kelley poked through the puff pastry, there was no soup in the bowl.

They have to mention it every time they eat at the Sea Grille. The story is tired, but it’s preferable to discussing Patrick’s character flaws and the way he’s let them all down.

Kevin stands up, his near-empty beer in hand. “I’m not going to wait for Ava,” he says. “I’d like to make a toast.” He checks around the table to make sure all eyes are on him: Mitzi and Kelley, check, Margaret and Drake, check, Barrett, check, Jaime is picking the berries off the mistletoe and trying to sink them in his water glass, Jennifer is drinking her wine, Pierce is looking at something under the table, probably his iPhone. Isabelle, check. The empty chairs seem to glare at him—the ghosts of Patrick and Bart—and Kevin thinks this makes sense. This toast is really for them.

“For years and years,” Kevin says, “I felt like the Lesser Quinn. The slacker Quinn. The screwup Quinn. The unremarkable middle child. After all, I had an older brother who could slay dragons with his green eyes. I had a younger sister with perfect pitch. And just when it seemed my younger brother might end up being a bigger failure than even me, he goes off to war to defend our country and our freedom.”

There is a sniffle from Mitzi’s direction.

“But today I saw my little girl baptized, a daughter given to me by my beautiful fiancée, Isabelle Beaulieu. Some of what is good and right about my life is due to those of you who dealt with me before I met Isabelle—Mom, Dad, Mitzi, Jennifer, Ava, and my brothers, Patrick and Bart. But now, the love that sustains me and motivates me and keeps me upright is my love for Isabelle and for our precious, sweet daughter, Genevieve. It is to them that I would like to raise my glass. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for making me matter. Cheers to all, and God bless.”