“I understand exactly what you mean,” said Jen. “Financial planning means security. It’s not greed. It’s just smart. And I’d never want to be dependent on anyone, either.” Never again.

“So you really do understand. Did we give you our children’s names as beneficiaries?”

“Yes, you did,” said Jen, scanning her computer screen. “As well as their socials.

You’re good parents.”

Her folks hadn’t left a will. They’d had a small life insurance policy that didn’t go far. Jen winced, annoyed at herself. Her folks had been wonderful in every other way. They’d left a legacy of music and laughter, of warmth and love. She blinked hard and forced her thoughts back to the computer.

By the time her clients left her office, Jen was smiling. She’d done a good job counseling the couple. They seemed much more relaxed than when they’d arrived, confident with their decisions. Just as important, however, she’d returned to being Jen, the consummate professional.

Thinking about the past caused emotional upheavals that wore her out. But what was that old saying? An unexamined life was not worth living. She supposed there was some truth to that, but she’d had enough self-examination for a while.

Now she was off to a rehearsal for the community concert coming up next Saturday. With a light heart, she made her way to the Commonwealth Theater, where she might run into Doug.

##

On the night of her concert, Jen looked out at the audience and quickly spotted her “people” in the second row. Every member of her family had come, even Lisa, who’d said she needed an outing in the real world. Baby Brianna and her big brother were safely at home with Mike’s doting parents. Her brothers came willingly, knowing they were headed out the next day to Cape Cod for their summer baseball teams and jobs. As for Doug — she peered into the darkening theater toward the back, where he was able to buy one of the few remaining tickets. Someone was waving madly out there. She giggled. Now, she conceded that all her people were in attendance.

That notion, as it popped into her head, made her realize that Doug’s place in her life had become ever more important. She supposed he was as unforgettable as the song of the same name she’d be singing that night, an unexpected second solo due to illness of the original singer.

She caught the eye of her Unforgettable partner backstage. “Are we good to go?”

“I should be asking you that question.”

Jen smiled. “I’m all set. The show must go on, right?”

And then there was no more time for chit-chat. Jen made her way to the risers and took her place. Excited for sure. But…happy as well. She stood taller and felt more carefree than she had in a long time.

She focused on the director, joined in the beginning medley of standards and knew the chorus had come through when she heard the initial applause. Duets, trios, and solos followed. She breathed deeply as her cue for “Summertime”

drew closer. And then she was in the spotlight.

The familiar melody slid from her diaphragm, and as she continued, she felt herself smile, totally enjoying and losing herself in the words. She riffed on the melody, improvising and feeling free, as though she were the one in the song spreading her wings, flying away. The musicians followed her, and unlike a karaoke number, the music they made together was rare and so personal—so Jen! She reveled in it until the end…when it became too personal. The words weren’t true for her. Some things had harmed her. Her dad and mom could not stand by. They were gone when she’d still needed them. Even though she’d sung this lyric many times, tonight, emotion choked her and her voice broke. Her heart broke…again, while tears ran down her cheeks.

Thunder assaulted her ears. Confused, she carefully turned her head to the left, then to the right, and then, second by slow second, returned to reality. The audience was on their feet. Clapping, whistling, and shouting bravo, bravo.

Lisa and Emily were crying. She scanned for Doug and spotted him jogging down the aisle right to the stage. In his hand, a small bouquet.

“It was supposed to be for later, but timing is everything. No more tears, Henny-Penny. Take another bow. You’re a hit!”

The guy always managed to make her laugh.

##

“You were great, sis. Just great. We’re proud of you,” said Andy. “It was an unforgettable performance!”

“Very pun-ny. But very nice to hear from a younger brother.”

“We’re glad we came,” added Brian. “Timing was close since we’re heading out tomorrow.” His grin said it all, and Jen knew his mind was already on the pitcher’s mound.

“Thanks, boys. I’ve enjoyed my fifteen minutes of fame, but now reality awaits.”

She walked hand in hand with Doug outside the theater as their group looked for Luis and the car. “Actually, guys, I think I’m supposed to drive you to Hyannis tomorrow for your summer league. With all the rehearsals and night classes, I’m a bit confused. But I’m ready to go.”

“You can sleep late,” said Brian. “Mike bought us a car.”

“He what?” Jen exclaimed.

“It’s an almost-new second-hand Pilot,” said Andy, “so there’s room for our stuff.” He patted her arm. “The gas is on us.”

Totally baffled, Jen turned to her brother-in-law. “I could have driven them…

why did—” Mike had done so much for them already. Regardless of his income, enough was enough.

“Both you and Lisa have busy lives. Neither of you can go and fetch them every time they want to come home.”

“But I would have…” she began to protest.

“He’s right, Jen.” Doug’s quiet voice caught her attention. “Your brothers are old enough to be responsible for a car. With the baseball scholarships they just told me about, and the attention they’ll get from the scouts, who knows where they’ll end up? They’ll need a car anyway.”

She took a breath before saying, “I know where they’ll end up. They’re staying right here in Boston. They’ll play for the Red Sox!”

The boys cheered. Lisa laughed. Doug said, “Hear, hear!” The tension was cut.

“But that’s not the way it works,” said Mike, the only one who’d been through a

professional draft experience. “And there’s no use speculating. The only rule in this family is that our kids graduate first. And that’s not debatable.”

“Definitely,” said Jen quickly. “Can’t take a chance on being sidelined with a broken arm or something worse.” Like never getting drafted by any team.

Without her degree, she’d be nowhere. Their hardworking parents had pushed education, had wanted a better life for their kids. And then Mike, the boys’ legal guardian, had picked up where her folks had left off. He was determined her brothers understand the importance of backup plans.

“Besides,” said Mike, throwing his arm around Andy, “they’re not ready to go pro. They need a little more meat on their bones. Eat, boys, eat!”

Jen glanced at Doug. “You were skinny at their age, too.”

“Live in the present, Henny-Penny. Can’t call me skinny now.”

He had her there. “Not going to argue. I guess time has a way of changing things.” She looked at the ones she loved, her personal crowd—and the truth of her statement slammed into her like a runaway train.

“My God,” she said, suddenly shivering. “Our lives really are changing. I don’t like it!” She took a deep breath, her gaze slowly moving from one beloved person to the other. “I can’t stop any of you from growing up and branching out, but one thing must not change. We will always be the Delaneys! The Delaney-Brennan clan. We stick together no matter what, because if we don’t, we might disappear like…like”—she waved her fingers—"ashes in the wind.”

“Promise me.” she added, her voice cracking. Her chin dropped.

Silence followed, broken in a moment by a cacophony of voices. Familiar, reassuring voices. Mike’s protective tone, her brothers’ tentative expressions, Lisa’s sympathetic hugs. But only one voice registered.

“Let it go, Jen. Let the damn fear go!” Doug leaned in, his forehead touching hers. “Your family’s not going anywhere, and they don’t need a babysitter. Not anymore. Now, it’s your turn. Do what the song said and spread your wings. It’s time.”