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drew and Amy husband and wife and told Andrew he could now kiss the bride.

As soon as they finished kissing, my father yelled, “Wait!” Shoulders back, he glided down the three steps of the altar and headed straight for my mother. He knelt down just outside her pew. He reached for her hand. He bowed his shiny bald head.

“Mary Margaret O’Neill,” he said in a voice that filled the church.
“Ti amo. Mi vuoi sposare?”
Just to make sure nobody missed anything, he translated. “I love you. Will you marry me?” My mother kept one firm hand on Myles and used the other one to help my father to his feet. “That’s enough, Larry,” she said. “Let the kids have their day.”

“Did you hear that?” my father roared. “She didn’t say no!”
THE MARGARET MITCHELL HOUSE
was a great place for a wedding reception. Guests milled around a charming court-yard with a sunken garden and drifted onto covered porches and into parlor rooms. Waitstaff wearing tuxedo pants and crisp white shirts walked around with appetizers on small round trays.

A waiter stopped in front of us and extended his tray.

“That doesn’t have any okra in it, does it?” I asked.

“No, Ma’am, it doesn’t. Beef, pork sausage, cheese, and spices. It’s called Hanky Panky.”

“Well,” I said, “then I’d better take two, since it might be the only shot I get.”

The waiter laughed politely, then handed me a napkin that read
Amy and Andrew
. “Sir?” he said.

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“No thanks,” Mario said. “How about a drink, Sis? Maybe it’ll loosen your tongue.”

I’d been thinking things through, and I finally figured out what the row of turkeys that had crossed in front of me right after I’d slept with Craig meant. Not Craig is a turkey.
All men
are turkeys
. “Well,” I said, “this calls for a toast. I think I’ll have a Wild Turkey. Maybe even a whole flock.” Mario ordered a glass of wine, and the waiter tiptoed away.

Another waiter came by with a tray, and Mario took a shrimp and dipped it in a little bowl of cocktail sauce.

“No, thanks,” I said. “I’m still working on my Hanky Panky.”

“Out with it,” Mario said. “What happened to your date?

He’s not still tied to your bedpost, is he?”

“Nah, he escaped,” I said. “Just as well. He was showing signs of wear and tear anyway.”

“Sorry it didn’t work out,” Mario said.

I shrugged. We both started watching our parents, who were sitting close together on a garden bench. We heard our father retelling the story of how he saved the day, and watched our mother nodding and smiling along.

“Geez,” I said. “I mean, it’s not like she missed any of it.

She was right next to him.”

Angela came over to stand with us. “It’s unbelievable,” she said. “When did that start?” I could tell she was holding her breath when she looked at them, too.

“My first sighting was in the hotel,” Mario said. “Todd and I saw them coming out of the same room together, heading for breakfast.”

“Not to be competitive, but I was on to them way before that,” I said. “At Logan, before we even boarded.” Summer Blowout

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“Show-off,” Mario said.

“What can I say,” I said. “I’m good.” Angela grabbed a shrimp off the tray as it came by.

“Couldn’t they have just stayed together the first time around?”

• 29 •

“A DRINK,
AMORE MIO
?” LUCKY LARRY SHAUGH-nessy, our father, asked our mother, Mary Margaret O’Neill.

He had loosened his tie, and you could just see the thick gold chain of his
cornicello
peeking out from his collar.

“When in Rome,” our mother said. They smiled at each other. “As long as it’s not that awful grappa.” Our father sauntered away in his single-breasted red-and-white-striped seersucker suit. It was hard to tell which was shinier, his scalp or his white bucks.

Our mother turned around and saw us staring at her. “Uh-oh,” I said. “Here she comes.”

“How lovely to be out in a garden at night,” she said. She was wearing a long flowing dress with silver threads that matched her hair and sparkled when the outdoor lights caught them. “What a spectacular wedding.” She leaned over and kissed Mario. “You must be so proud.” We all stared at her. “What?” she said.

“Nothing,” we said.

She shrugged. “He picked up the phone a month ago and invited me to be his date for the wedding. It took a lot of
cogliones
to do that.”

“What’s that mean?” Angela asked.

“Balls,” my mother said.

“But you hate him,” Angela said.

“Our whole childhood was based on that,” I said.

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“If you’d stayed together, I might have been more popular,” Angela said.

“I might have turned out straight,” Mario said, and we all burst out laughing.

“Are you going to marry him?” Angela asked.

My mother tilted her head and shrugged. “I’m taking it one date at a time. But bottom line, if I only had six months to live, I’d have the most fun with your father.”

“Maybe you should wait for the diagnosis,” I said.

Mario kissed our mother on the cheek. “Enjoy every minute,” he said. “By the way, what did you say to Myles in the church to make him let go of the pillow?” She smiled. “I just started counting. It works every time.

I don’t think I ever made it past five with any of you.”

“Yay, team!” Angela cheered, and we all reached for one another and had a group hug, just to humor her. It wasn’t her fault she was such a soccer mom.

We dropped our arms and took a step back but stayed in our circle.

When I turned around, Sean Ryan was talking to my father.

My heart started to beat like crazy. I took a deep breath.

I reminded myself that all men are turkeys, which only reminded me of something even more pressing: That waiter still hadn’t shown up with my Wild Turkey.

“Excuse me,” I said to my family. “But I think I need a drink.” That waiter wasn’t easy to find, so I headed for the bar and ordered another one. Straight up.

I was in a shot glass kind of mood, but the bartender put it in a brandy snifter, which took some of the fun out of it, in my opinion. “Here you go, little lady,” he said.

“Gobble gobble,” I said, before I took a healthy slug.

I started to cough.

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My former husband came out of nowhere to pat me on the back.

“Thanks,” I said. I put my drink on the bar and reached for my clutch. Maybe I’d put on some Frankly Scarlett after all.

“What is that anyway?” Craig asked. “You don’t drink hard liquor.”

“Wild Turkey,” I said. “Why? What’s it to you?” Craig smiled. He was wearing a suit I’d never seen before.

“Be careful. Did you eat anything yet?”

“Not your problem,” I said.

I smelled his Paul Mitchell Extra-Body Sculpting Foam before I saw him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Sean Ryan asked.

Craig held out his hand and introduced himself. “You look familiar,” he added.

“Sean,” Sean Ryan said. “I think we’ve seen each other at the salon.”

Sophia walked up to us. Craig introduced her. We all stood there awkwardly for a moment or two. I tried to decide which was worse, standing around with my former and his present, who was somehow still my half sister, or being alone with the guy I’d thought might be my future until he’d decided he didn’t want to take things further, even though for some un-known reason he’d shown up anyway. Life was way too confusing. No wonder I needed a drink. I picked up my glass from the bar and took another long gobble. It went down a lot smoother this time.

When I looked up again, Sophia was giving me a funny look.

For a moment I wondered if Craig had admitted to her that we’d slept together, but I knew all too well that wasn’t his style. My sister shorthand kicked in, and an actual chill came over me as I read Sophia’s expression:
There’s nothing you can
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do to stop me from coming on to this guy either.
She tossed her hair and smiled a killer smile. “Your new boyfriend is really cute,” she said.

I handed my glass to Sean Ryan. “Keep an eye on the turkey for me,” I said. “We’ll be right back.” I grabbed Sophia by the arm.

“Ouch,” she said.

I dragged her into a small bathroom and locked the door.

“Listen,” I said. “You’re my sister, and you’re embarrassing me. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

She leaned back against the sink. “Half sister,” she said.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “You’re still my sister. I’ve loved you your whole life, since the minute you were born.” She began to cry. I put my arms around her and held her while she sobbed, the way I used to when she was little and somebody had been mean to her at school or some boy had broken her heart.

“Why’d you do it?” I asked. “At what point did you actually say to yourself, ‘This is my sister and I’m going to sleep with her husband’?”

“You weren’t paying any attention to him,” she mumbled into my shoulder. “I guess I didn’t think you wanted him anymore.”

I pushed her away. “That’s bullshit,” I said. “You did it because you’ve always wanted everything I have. I love you, but get over it. Stay with Craig, or don’t. I don’t even care anymore. But get your act together, Sophia, or I don’t want you in my life.”

I left her in the bathroom and went back to the bar. “Down the hall, last room on the right,” I said to Craig.

“But—” he said.

“Go,” I said.

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“But—” he said again.

“Frankly, Craig,” I said, “I don’t give a damn.” Sean Ryan raised an eyebrow after he was gone.

“Somebody had to say it eventually,” I said.

“You okay?” Sean Ryan asked.

“Never been better,” I said. He handed me my Wild Turkey.

“Do you think you can trade this in for a chardonnay?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said. “If you’ll take a walk with me.”
WE FOUND SOME CHAIRS
on the far corner of the lawn, tucked beside some hedges, not far from the street.

“Okay, what,” I said.

He laughed. “You’re such a charmer.”

“Look who’s talking,” I said.

“I spoke to your father,” he said.

Even with the outdoor lighting, I couldn’t quite see his eyes, but I knew they were hazel with flecks of gold. “I saw,” I said.

“I didn’t know anything about that call to the health inspector. I’ve already pulled out of the group. And I told them to back off, or I’d tell your father who made the call.”

“They’d never get a haircut in that town again” was all I could think to say. A piece of the puzzle was still missing, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

“I would have done it, even if he wasn’t your father. Calling in a failed septic system is playing dirty. These old systems almost always fail, and he’ll have to put in a new one. It’s going to cost your father some good money.” I didn’t say anything.

“Even if he can afford it, what if he couldn’t? People lose

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their homes over things like this every day. I don’t do business that way.”