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The sound of the party poppers going off was the first thing that lured Harry downstairs. In their patio garden, an unfamiliar young woman’s laugh rang out, bright and bubbly.
“I’ll pour us some more drinks,” Hardison said over his shoulder as he stepped into the theater, blinking the sunlight out of his eyes. “More orange juice, Nia?”
“Entertaining a client without me?” Harry asked from the stairs.
Hardison jumped. “Didn’t see you there! Nah, Nia’s our sister. Adopted, same as Bre and me. It’s been a few years, and, well, she has some pretty good news. Pour a drink and join us if you want! We’re day drinking to celebrate. Well, Bre and I are.”
Harry poured himself a Shirley Temple and followed Hardison outside, figuring he’d wait to start drinking until after he made a good impression on his friends’ sister.
Someone had laid an actual red and white checked picnic blanket out on the patio cobbles. Two girls lay on it side by side, their heads nestled against each other.
“Crappy seltzer situation for you,” said Hardison, bending to set a can next to Breanna. “I went for ‘Electric Lime,’ which will definitely give you ulcers.”
“Thanks,” she said sarcastically, sitting up.
“And here’s your orange juice,” he added, handing it to the other girl with all the ceremony of a fairytale prince. Harry recognized that voice. It was the same one Hardison used when Breanna was particularly stressed. His little sister-comforting voice, maybe.
“Oh!” said the other girl as she sat up. She was a young woman, thirty at the oldest, and stunningly beautiful, dressed in a long-sleeved violet dress with a high collar and a lilac hijab. And she was very, very pregnant. “You didn’t tell me your other friends were here, Alec.”
“This is Harry,” said Hardison, gesturing. “Harry, this is our sister, Nia. She lives in town, but we haven’t been able to see each other in a long time.”
“A long, long time,” Breanna put in. To Nia, she added, “He’s kind of a downer at parties, but don’t tell him I said that. Still a sweetie, though.”
Harry, standing less than three feet away, rolled his eyes.
“This hardly qualifies as a party,” said Nia, throwing an arm around Breanna and throwing Hardison a mock glare. “Because I am not celebrating my divorce, do you hear me? We are amicable!” She patted the curve of her stomach. “Javier and I will raise our daughter as co-parents. It’ll be better for her.”
“We all had just one parent—” Hardison began.
“—Or a lot of parents, if you count failed foster placements,” Breanna chimed in.
“And we turned out okay,” Hardison finished. “We’ll back whatever move you make. And whatever happens, this kid’s gonna have a lot of devoted aunties and uncles.”
“Auntie Breanna,” Breanna whispered, her eyes sparkling. “Is it weird that I want that on a t-shirt?”
“Kind of,” Nia told her, mussing her hair. “But you’ve always been weird.”
Breanna ducked away from her sister’s hand and shook her head hard, sending her curls bouncing. “No one in the world fucks with my hair as much as you do,” she complained, but she was smiling.
“Aw, you missed me,” said Nia, smiling too.
“Uh, yeah. Kind of a crazy amount, actually.” Breanna popped the tab on her electric lime seltzer, took a sip, and grimaced. “I’ll admit this is kind of battery acid-y.”
Nia wrinkled her nose. “Not really convincing me I’m missing out, Bre. But you guys get why I want to at least try the two parent thing, right? Obviously we’re all lovely adults, but, well, you two are literally professional thieves.”
“Thieves for a good cause,” Breanna protested.
At the same time, Hardison said, “You know? That’s fair. As long as you know that you and that kid will always have a place to turn if Javier gets weird and clingy again.”
“I think we’re past that now,” said Nia. “But I’ll let you know.”
From there the picnic (if alcohol on a patio counted as a picnic) drifted to lighter topics. Harry was able to strategically poke Nia for childhood memories of Breanna and Hardison.
“Total opposites,” she laughed. “When Bre was six, she got her whole first grade class to sign a petition to change their class gerbil’s diet. And Alec was off painting himself blue and learning Klingon.”
“I’m still mad they didn’t listen about the gerbil,” said Breanna. “Less than ten dollars more every three months is nothing in exchange for a longer life expectancy, you know?”
“And Bre knows Klingon!” Hardison protested.
Breanna stuck out her tongue. “Yeah, but I know it in a cool way,” she said in Klingon.
“It is deeply shameful to me that I understood that,” said Nia.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” said Harry, draining the last of his Shirley Temple. “Can I top anyone up?”
“I’d love a less-evil form of alcohol,” said Breanna. “Your pick.”
“Rum and Coke it is!” As Harry poured the drinks at the bar, Eliot came through the front door balancing an armload of takeout.
“Nia loves Greek food,” he said by way of explanation. “And, whatever she thinks, her ex-husband is a dick and she’s better off separated from him.”
“Fair enough,” said Harry. He liked Nia, but was trying to withhold judgement about the ex he’d never met. “I’ll get the back door for you,” he said, hurrying around the bar to do just that. “With actual food, we can make this a real picnic.”