She seemed to be just as much in her element the next day in the house in Brooklyn where her grandparents lived. The exotic siren who’d flamed across the stage the night before had been replaced by a lovely woman comfortable in jeans and bare feet.

It was a puzzle, Brody decided, trying to fit the two of them together into a whole. He intended to take the time to do so.

But for now, the best he could do was experience. The house was crammed with people—so many of them, he wondered if there was enough oxygen to go around. The noise level was a wonder.

A piano stood against one wall and was played by various fingers at various times. Everything from rock to Bach. The scents of cooking wafted through the air. Wine was poured with generous hands, and nobody seemed to stay still for more than five minutes.

His son was wallowing in it. He could see him, if he angled his head through other bodies, sprawled on the worn rug with Max, bashing cars together. The last time he’d been able to spot Jack he’d been sitting on Yuri’s lap having what appeared to have been a serious conversation that had involved a number of gumdrops.

And before that, he’d raced down the stairs in the wake of a couple of young teenagers. Since Brody hadn’t seen him go up the stairs in the first place, he was trying to keep a closer eye on his son.

“He’s fine.” A woman with the trademark Stanislaski looks—wild, bold, beautiful—dropped onto the couch beside him. “Rachel,” she said with a quick grin. “Kate’s aunt. Hard to keep us straight, isn’t it?”

“There are a lot of you.” Rachel, he thought, trying desperately to remember the details. Kate’s mother’s sister. A judge. That’s right. Married to…the guy who owned the bar. And the guy who owned the bar was Nick’s half brother.

Was it any wonder a man couldn’t keep them lined up?

“You’ll get the hang of it. That’s my guy there.” She gestured toward a tall man who had his arm hooked around the throat of a gangly boy with dark hair. “Currently choking our son Gideon while he talks to Sydney—the exceptional redhead who’s married to my brother Mik—and Laurel, Mik and Sydney’s youngest. Mik’s over there, arguing with my other brother Alex, while Alex’s wife Bess—the other exceptional redhead—appears to be discussing something of great importance with her daughter, Carmen, and Nick and Freddie’s Kelsey. The tall, handsome young man just coming out of the kitchen is Mik’s oldest, Griff, who seems to have charmed some food out of my mother, Nadia. Got that?”

“Ah…”

“You absorb that awhile.” She laughed and patted his knee. “Because there are so many more of us. Meanwhile, your son’s fine—and you don’t have a drink. Wine?”

“Sure, why not?”

“No, I’ll get it.” She patted him again and dashed off. Almost immediately, Griff plopped down and began to talk carpentry.