"How long do you expect to take?"
"There you go thinking like The Rock again. You mean three months or six months or a year, don't you?"
"It couldn't take longer, could it?"
"I hope it takes three generations," he said.
I didn't have any answer.
Sunday night we were the last to leave. It's a point of pride with us to show that we're the Lennoxes' favorite friends. We kissed them goodbye, drove down the hill and started back toward The Rock. We looked up and saw them, silhouetted against the lights of the house, arms around each other, waving madly. We started to laugh again.
"Crazy kids," I said.
"They're pure gypsy," Robin said.
"When the baby comes he'll have to get to work again."
"Gabby says they're going to name it Sam if it's a boy."