"Something tells me it wouldn't be a big seller outside of the Eastern seaboard."

Sinjin laughed. "Yeah, good point. Still though."

They stepped into the kitchen, the ladies all cheering their return. The party was in full swing, '80s pop music thumping from the living room speakers. Sinjin slipped an arm around his wife's waist and hugged her to him.

"Suppa's almost ready," Laura said. She wore a striped dress that accentuated her pregnant belly rather than lessened it, her brown curls springy on her shoulders.

"It smells amazing, hon. I was just saying to Marty," Sinjin added, addressing crowd. "They should sell a clambake flavored e-juice."

Everyone seemed to think this was the greatest idea since the first boiled clam. While they laughed and clapped his back and a guy with a Just For Men-black goatee and plaid fedora said he'd "run it up the flagpole" with his superiors, Sheila and Martin gave each other a look signaling their plan to leave at the earliest chance.

Less than fifteen minutes later they were all gathered in the dining room, the table piled high with seafood, corn, sausages, cheeses, breads and greens.

The St. John house was cozy but still had the square footage of a place a dozen times its worth anywhere in New York City. Everyone fit snugly around the table while they served themselves and their children. But eating would have to be done throughout the house, on laps and end tables, chairs and stairs and cross-legged on the floor.

Sinjin tapped on his glass of local craft beer with a fork. "Hey, folks, can I get your attention?" Once everyone had quieted down, he continued: "Laura and I would like to thank you all for coming, especially those of you who couldn't manage to get a sitter and came anyway, bringing your wonderful children into our home. As you all know, we're about to be blessed with a child of our own. A girl, they say—"

Martin turned to Sheila and whispered, "They know the sex?"

Sheila shrugged.

"—so that means all you little ones, and not-so-little ones—Angus, I'm looking at you, big guy, Barrows Bay Bumblebees is looking for a new quarterback—"

A large, pasty-faced red-haired boy in a sweater two sizes too small blushed.

"—well, you'll all have someone new to play with soon." Sinjin hugged Laura at his side. She beamed up at him and pouted as he started to tear up. "Anyways, I just wanna say, we love you all."

A woman directly behind Martin let out a prolonged, "Awwww." The guy with the plaid fedora—who'd introduced himself as Mike or Mark—cheered, "We love you too, buddy!"

Sinjin's already rosy cheeks reddened further. He swiped at his tears and raised his glass in a toast. Others followed his example. Even some of the children raised their juice and pop cups, mimicking their elders.

"To the Bay," he said. "The best little island in the world!"

Everyone returned the cheer: "To the Bay!" They drank up.