Free The Book of Illumination by Mary Ann Winkowski Page B

commingled scents of bacon and toast. Crumbs and spots of jelly—grape, it looked like—dotted the tablecloth, and Kelly was folding a load of lights. I watched as she absentmindedly smoothed Declan’s boxers into tidy rectangles.
    “How are you?” she asked. If she resents or feels sorry for me, she manages not to show it.
    “Oh, fine. Thanks again for last weekend. He had a great time.”
    Kelly smiled. “It’s so easy up there. They spent the whole weekend making a fort.”
    “They did?”
    “We could barely get them in at night. They had every flashlight in the house. It was quite the production.”
    I smiled. Henry’s lucky to be part of an extended family with eight or nine kids under twelve. That’s not something I could give him. My oldest brother, Joe, is gay, we think, though he has never actually made an announcement. I suppose that doesn’t preclude children, at some point, but he and Alan have been living in Portland for three years and they both really like it out there. If and when Joe ever becomes a father—and I hope he does—it will probably happen in the Northwest. My other brother, Jay, lives in Chicago. He and his wife, Louise, who’s on the partner track at her law firm, just got a puppy. We’ll see how that goes.
    We heard a couple of toots; Declan was back. Down in the driveway, the truck door slammed and a lively conversation ensued.
    “You’re really sure about next weekend?” Kelly asked. “Because my mom’s more than happy to—”
    “Absolutely!” I said, interrupting. “We can’t wait.” Some people would find it strange that Kelly and Dec would leave the girls with me, the other woman, while they go off to celebrate their anniversary. But the children are used to spending weekends together, and Henry never gets to have Nell and Delia overnight at our house.
    Because he’s a little older, and a boy, they’re intensely curious about all aspects of his life: Max and Ellie; Homer, the St. Bernard a few doors down, famous for spectacular feats of flatulence; the fact that Henry’s allowed to play in the attic, where there is a real sword; the strange foods they sometimes find in our fridge—artichoke hearts and mozzarella floating in brine. Henry’s flattered enough by their adoration to overlook the fact that they are girls. As for me, I look forward to being the selfs acrificing one for a change, making it possible for Kelly to spend a romantic weekend at a seaside B and B in Maine with the man whose heart she clearly won—not once, but twice.
    “Sorry about the mud,” I said as Declan appeared on the stairs.
    He just shrugged. The barber had cut his hair a little too short, revealing borders of pale skin at the hairline. He looked kind of goofy. Actually, he looked like his son. I smiled.
    “What?” he asked.
    “Nothing,” I said. Kelly glanced over, her gaze landing on the flat, rectangular doughnut box in his hand. “You forgot my muffin,” she said glumly.
    Declan produced a bag from under the box and held it up. Kelly smiled.
    “Thank you,” she said, and, promising to be in touch with me about the weekend arrangements, she was out the door.
    “Want some coffee?” Declan asked.
    “No, thanks.”
    “Doughnut?” He opened the box, which, unfortunately, contained my favorite: cream-filled with chocolate frosting. But there was only one.
    “Whose is this?” I asked, pointing.
    “Yours,” he said, filling the coffeepot with water. “So am I making a full pot here, or a half?”
    “Full, I guess.”
    He poured the water into the coffeemaker and filled a paper cone with the fine, dark powder.
    “I talked to a couple of the guys,” he said, pushing the On button.
    I took a paper napkin from the wrought-iron holder and laid my doughnut on top of it. “Yeah?” I so wanted a bite, but I was going to discipline myself and wait for the coffee, like a mature human being.
    “I might have something.”
    “
Really?
That was quick.”
    He sat down