Chapter 18: Six O'Clock

Bianca's POV

At five minutes to six, I stood on the porch of the house I grew up in and did not ring the bell.

Behind me, thirty feet down the curb, a white hatchback sat with its lights off.

I didn't look at it.

I knew a man was in it with a bag on his lap, waiting for me to be the one who decided.

My brother opened the door before I touched it.

He wore a button-down shirt I had never seen, and his hands were shaking.

"Everybody's here," he whispered.

"Where's the folder?"

"Sideboard. Under the napkins."

I walked in.

The house smelled like roast lamb and cinnamon, and every light in it was on.

The dining table had both leaves in, and every chair was full.

My father sat at the head with his reading glasses pushed up on his forehead.

My father's two sisters sat on one side with their lipstick fresh, and between them, in a cardigan older than I was, sat my great-uncle.

He was Nonna's younger brother, eighty-one years old, and he had driven from Fresno by himself.

He lifted one hand to me, and I lifted mine.

My mother stood at the kitchen door with a dish towel and a face that begged me.

The only empty chair was at the foot, across from my father, and Dani sat at its right.

Gabe sat beside her with his arm along the back of her chair.

Dani wore a soft red sweater and Nonna's gold ring, and her eyes were wet and shining.

"Bee," she said, and put a hand to her chest. "You came."

"I said I would."

"I'm so glad. I haven't slept." She turned to the aunts. "I've been so afraid she wouldn't forgive me."