The dining room was warm with candlelight and conversation. Aunt Estella had outdone herself—roasted chicken, herbed potatoes, fresh bread, a salad with pomegranate seeds. The table was crowded with dishes and wine glasses and the particular chaos of a family dinner.
Nate raised his glass. "To Aunt Estella. The only reason any of us survived high school."
"Hear, hear," Julian said. "I still dream about her pot roast."
"You came to Arianne's house just for the food," Gilbert said. "We all did. It was the only reason we tolerated her."
"I tolerated you," Arianne said.
"Barely. You told me I was annoying for the first six months."
"You were annoying."
"But you let me stay for dinner." Gilbert gestured at the spread before them. "This is why. Aunt Estella's cooking was worth putting up with you."
From the kitchen, Aunt Estella's voice carried through the doorway. "I can hear you, Mr. Pemberton."
"It was a compliment!"
"It had better be."
