When Cole got to the kitchen, on the other side of the family room, Drake was already pulling carryout containers out of bags and popping them open on the counter. “Organic for everyone,” he said. “Healthy or bust. Salmon and Brussels salad is for Mom. Burgers for everyone else. Home-baked whole-grain buns, grass-fed beef, local micro greens, smoked bacon, all the condiments on the side.”

“Fries?” Gabe asked.

“We’re doing healthy,” Drake repeated, his tone saying Gabe was a dumb ass. “How would you like to be stuck eating a fish salad while you can smell everyone else’s French fries?”

“Burgers and broccoli doesn’t have quite the same ring.” Gabe picked up a food box anyway and started dressing his burger.

Cole went over to the cupboard and took down a stack of plates. When they were kids, their mom had started a long-lasting Fiestaware phase and had a set of sixteen place settings of various solid-colored pieces. She still used those today.

“What’s the plan for the week as far as having someone here to help out?” Cole asked. They’d discussed it in general over the past few days but, not previously knowing when she’d be released to come home, they hadn’t hammered out specifics. She would no doubt insist she’d be fine on her own, but that wasn’t going to fly with her sons.

“Aunt Liz and Miranda are splitting tomorrow,” Mason said. “Geraldine offered to do Wednesday. We need to cover the rest.”

Geraldine Fleming and Liz North were Faye’s best friends and had been for decades. Liz, the wife of the brothers’ late uncle, Hamilton North, had been the VP of accounting for North Brothers Sports until she retired a couple of years ago. Geraldine had overseen the marketing department and retired three months after Liz. Until her heart attack, Faye had been the holdout of the three—though she’d officially retired as well, she’d been working as some kind of consultant ever since. Miranda North was Liz’s youngest, her only daughter, who also worked for the family business. Faye would be in good hands with all of them.

The brothers split up the rest of the week, with Cole grabbing Saturday duty before anyone else could.

“Sounds like business is good at Dunn & Lowell,” Gabe said as he carried a bottle of root beer and an aqua plate heaped with a burger, a pile of steamed broccoli, and a heap of roasted red potatoes over to the long, farm-style table that seated eight between the family room and the breakfast bar.

Cole and Drake grabbed drinks from the fridge, then followed him and sat down, Drake at the foot, Cole next to him, while Mason elected to eat standing up, from the kitchen side of the bar, facing them. The guy wouldn’t know how to relax if his life depended on it.