The twins had spent the morning at the Michaels bakery.

Arianne had driven them there early, the way she tried to do at least once every couple of weeks. Jessica had greeted them at the door with flour on her apron and tears in her eyes, the way she always did. Paul had let Lily help decorate a tray of cookies and had given Leo a small ball of dough to knead. The whale had sat on the counter, dusted with a fine layer of flour, watching over everything.

By the time they left, the twins were carrying a small box of pastries and a cake that Jessica had insisted they take. "For Joyce," she’d said, pressing it into Arianne’s hands. "Tell her I said hello."

Now the cake sat on the passenger seat as Arianne pulled up to Joyce Monreau’s estate. The house was warm and welcoming, just as Joyce herself was. Flowers in the front garden. A wreath on the door.

Julian’s car was already in the drive.

Kyle met them at the door.

"Lily! Leo!" He was bouncing on his heels, his hair uncombed, his shirt already untucked. "Come see my new stuff! I got dinosaur coloring books and a rocket ship and a puzzle with a hundred pieces and—"

He didn’t finish. He grabbed Lily’s hand and took off down the hallway. Leo followed at his own pace, the whale under one arm, his tablet in the other. Within seconds, all three children had vanished into Kyle’s room.

Julian appeared in the doorway. "He’s been waiting for them since eight this morning. He asked me every ten minutes when they were coming."

"He’s excited."

"He’s vibrating. I’ve never seen a child vibrate before."

Arianne handed him the cake. "From Jessica and Paul."

Julian took it. His expression changed — the Michaels bakery was Layla’s family, and Layla’s absence was still an open wound in all of them. He only said, "I’ll tell my mother. She’ll want to send a thank-you note."

Joyce was in the kitchen.

She moved between the stove and the counter with the ease of someone who’d been cooking for family her entire life. The kitchen smelled like roasted chicken and herbs and something sweet baking in the oven. Sunlight streamed through the window over the sink.

"Arianne." Joyce turned from the stove, her face breaking into a smile. She crossed the kitchen and took Arianne’s hands in both of hers. "You look well. Tired, but well." 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

"I’ve been told I always look tired."

"That’s because you work too hard. Sit. The food is almost ready." Joyce released her hands and returned to the stove. "How are you faring? Is Franz away for filming?"

"He’s away for now, but will be back soon. He’ll leave again after the new year." Arianne took a seat at the kitchen table. Julian was already there, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. "I’m fine for now. The upcoming weeks will fill my plate, but I’m managing."

"You always do." Joyce stirred something on the stove. "And the twins? Julian said they’re doing well in school."

"Lily has organized the entire classroom. Leo participates in class activities now, unlike before."

Joyce’s smile deepened. "That’s wonderful. Jessica and Paul must be thrilled. You visited this morning?"

"We did. Jessica sent a cake. She said to say hello."

Joyce paused. Her hand stilled on the spoon. "Did she?"

"Yes."

Lunch was nearly ready. The table had been set, the food arranged, the glasses filled. Before Joyce called the children, Arianne asked, "How is Kyle? How are you finding grandmotherhood?"

Joyce’s face changed. Softened. Brightened.

"Oh, I was furious with Julian when I found out. You know that. Months of fury. How dare he not know he had a son? How dare he keep that boy from me for so long?" She shot Julian a look that was equal parts exasperation and love. "But when I met Kyle — when I actually met him — I fell in love. Immediately and completely. He walked into my house and looked at me with those big eyes and said, ’Are you my grandmother?’ And I said, ’Yes, I am.’ And that was it."

"She cried," Julian said.

"I did not cry."

"You cried for an hour."

"I teared up. There’s a difference." Joyce waved her hand dismissively. "I’ve been insisting Julian move closer. Somewhere near me. I want to help him and Ellie look after Kyle. I want to be present. But he hasn’t decided yet."

Julian pushed off the counter. "Kyle just started preschool with Lily and Leo. He’s still adjusting. New school. New routine. New friends. If we move him now, on top of everything else, it might be too much. I don’t want to overwhelm him."

"That’s sensible," Arianne said.

"Thank you. My mother doesn’t think so."

"I think it’s sensible and inconvenient," Joyce said. "Both things can be true."

Julian sighed. "He also refuses to listen to me. Fully. He’ll nod and say he understands, and then five minutes later he’s drawn on the wall or spilled juice on the carpet or left his toys everywhere. I try to teach him manners. Responsibility. He looks at me like I’m speaking a foreign language."

"He’s three," Joyce said.

"I know he’s three. I still want him to learn."

"You want him to learn faster than he’s capable of learning. That’s not his fault."

Julian didn’t argue. He looked at Arianne. "How do you do it? With the twins? They’re so — organized. Lily has charts. Leo has systems. They clean up after themselves. They listen."

Arianne considered the question.

"We had it easier," she said finally. "Alex and Layla laid the foundation. They established the routines. The expectations. The twins came to us with manners already in place. Franz and I only had to build on what was already there." She paused. "We could be firm where we stood because we knew how capable they were. They already knew the boundaries. We just had to maintain them."

"So you’re saying I’m doomed."

"I’m saying you’re starting from scratch. That’s harder."

Joyce laughed. Warm. Knowing. She pulled the chicken from the oven and set it on the counter. "Julian, help me with the table."

Julian stepped forward. He began moving plates and silverware. His mother directed him with small gestures, a nod toward the glasses, a wave toward the serving dishes.

"That’s part of raising children," Joyce said. "You complain now. The mess. The chaos. The not listening. The endless repetition of things you’ve said a hundred times. But time passes so quickly. They grow up in the blink of an eye. One day you look up and they’re adults, and you wonder where the years went."

She looked at Julian. At Arianne. Her voice softened.

"You’re both doing fine. The children can see they’re cared for. They can feel it. That’s what matters most. You just need to remember where to draw the line." She set the last plate on the table. "Love without limits doesn’t help anyone. Limits without love is just cruelty. You find the balance. You adjust. You keep going."

Lunch was served. Joyce called the children from Kyle’s room.

They appeared in a rush of noise and energy. Kyle was still talking. Lily was still asking questions. Leo was low, the whale under his arm, but his eyes were bright. They took their seats at the table, and the food was passed, and the conversation moved to lighter things.

School. The upcoming holidays. The twins’ visit to the Michaels bakery that morning. Lily described it in exhaustive detail — the smell of fresh bread, the cookies Jessica had given them, the way Paul had let her help decorate a cake with pink frosting and sprinkles.

"Pink frosting," Kyle said, awed. "I want pink frosting."

"You can come next time," Lily said. "Grandma Jessica said you could. She said any friend of ours is welcome."

Kyle looked at Julian. "Can I?"

"We’ll ask," Julian said.

"Can I go tomorrow?"

"We’ll ask soon."

"That’s not a yes."

"That’s a we’ll ask."

Kyle sighed the sigh of a child who found adults profoundly unreasonable. Joyce hid her smile behind her napkin.

The afternoon wound down. The cake from the Michaels bakery was cut and served. Coffee was poured. The children retreated to Kyle’s room once more, their energy renewed by sugar.

Arianne sat at the table with Joyce and Julian. The dishes were cleared. The sunlight had softened, the afternoon settling into its last hour.

"You’re doing fine," Joyce said again. She wasn’t looking at Julian this time. She was looking at Arianne.

Arianne didn’t answer. She didn’t know how to answer. Something in her loosened at the words, in a way she didn’t try to name.

Joyce smiled. "That’s enough for today. More coffee?"

"Yes," Arianne said. "Please."