It didn’t take long to spot Martin. He was standing at his mother’s side. Brandi and Michelle must have gone to the restroom, and Martin had taken this opportunity to mend fences with his mother and ex-wife.

“You look tired,” Kurt said, putting his plate on the table, pulling out the chair next to hers, and sitting down.

“I am, but it’s worth it. What do you think of the food?”

“Everything I’ve had is phenomenal.” Kurt tasted the ribs and groaned. “I wish I’d saved more room. These are the best ribs I ever tasted.”

“They’re Norman’s recipe. He calls it Barbecued Anything. Make sure you tell him you like it.”

“I will. Why don’t you get yourself some food, Hannah? You look like a strong wind could blow you over.”

Hannah laughed. “It would take a typhoon, or at least a major squall. But getting some food is a good idea. I want to have some Chicken Paprikash. It’s a favorite of mine.”

“I put my helping over Edna’s Make-Ahead Mashed Potatoes. It’s great that way.”

“But those are meatballs, not chicken,” Hannah corrected him, pointing to the relevant section of his plate.

“I know that. I ate the part with the chicken while I was walking back to the table. Go ahead, Hannah. I want to dig into this E-Z Lasagna of your mother’s. it looks fantastic, and I just know Marcia’s going to want the recipe.”

“How is Marcia?” Hannah asked, knowing that Kurt had married his publisher’s daughter despite the wishes of her family.

“She’s just fine. And we just found out last month that we’re pregnant.”

“That’s wonderful,” Hannah said, wishing she could pick a bone with the women who insisted on that terminology. It was inaccurate. Men didn’t get pregnant; women did. Of course men were equally responsible for the pregnancy, but the phrase, we’re pregnant, set off klaxons in Kennedy’s logical mind. Sharing the experience of pregnancy was one thing; blatant disregard for the accuracy of the English language was another.

“Is there something wrong?” Kurt asked, picking up on Hannah’s silence.

“Oh, no! Nothing!” Hannah quickly assured him.

“Would you bring me back one of those cranberry muffins?” Kurt asked, popping the last bite of soda bread into his mouth.

“Sure. I’ll be right back,” Hannah promised, heading off to the food table and wondering whether she really had turned into the pedantic curmudgeon Andrea had often accused her of being.

“I’m back!” Mike declared, catching Hannah just as she’d finished filling her plate.

Hannah reveled in the feel of his arm around her shoulder for a brief moment, and then she smiled up at him. “That was fast. Did you get Shawna Lee to the airport okay?”

“Of course, but it started coming down pretty heavy on the way back. It’s a good thing I took my Hummer and not the squad car.”

“Right,” Hannah said, biting back a smile as Mike pulled out her chair and held it as she sat down. Mike was a guy’s guy, and he had the biggest, most powerful vehicle around. His Jeep hadn’t been a wimpy vehicle, but Mike had wasted no time in trading it in on a Hummer last month. It wasn’t the most comfortable ride for passengers, something Shawna Lee had undoubtedly discovered for herself, but it was powerful enough to get through almost anything a Minnesota winter could throw at a motorist.