“Used to play naked right out that door while I was gardening.”

Despite herself, Libby laughed, even as she closed a hand over her father’s throat. “Monster.”

“Can I ask him what he thinks of Dylan?”

She gave his head a shake. “No.”

“Bob Dylan or Dylan Thomas?” Cal asked, earning a narrowed look from William and one of surprise from Libby before she remembered his affection for poetry.

“Either,” Will decided.

“Dylan Thomas was brilliant but depressing. I’d rather read Bob Dylan.”

“Read?”

“The lyrics, Dad. Now that that’s settled, why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here instead of driving your board of directors crazy?”

“I wanted to see my little girl.”

She kissed him, just above the beard, because she knew it was partially true. “I saw you when I got back from the South Pacific. Try again.”

“And I wanted Caro to have the fresh air.” He sent his wife a smug look over his daughter’s shoulder. “We both figured the air around here worked well the first two times, so we’d try it again.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about this place being good for your mother’s condition.”

“Condition? You’re sick?” Libby was up and grabbing her mother’s hands. “What’s wrong?”

“Will, you never could come to the point. What he’s trying to say is I’m pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” Libby felt her knees go weak. “But how?”

“And you call yourself a scientist,” Cal murmured, and earned his first laugh from Will.

“But—” Too dazed to be annoyed by the comment, she looked back and forth between her parents. They were young, hardly more than forty, and vital. She knew there was nothing unusual about couples in their forties having babies. But they were her parents. “You’re going to have a baby. I don’t know what to say.”

“Try congratulations,” Will suggested.

“No. Yes, I mean. I need to sit down.” She did, on the floor between their chairs. She discovered sitting wasn’t enough and took three long breaths.

“How do you feel?” Caroline asked.

“Dazed.” She looked up, studying her mother’s face. “How do you feel?”

“Eighteen . . . though I have talked Will out of delivering this one himself here at the cabin, the way he did with you and Sunny.”

“The woman’s lost her sixties values,” Will muttered, though he had been tremendously relieved when Caroline had insisted on an obstetrician and a hospital. “So what do you think, Libby?”

She rose to her knees so that she could hug each of them. “I think we should celebrate.”

“I’m one step ahead of you.” Rising, William went to the refrigerator, then held a bottle aloft. “Sparkling apple juice.”