My mother-in-law kept showing up with her whole family for free BBQ at our house — when they came empty-handed again on the 4th, I served them a lesson instead.

She said, “But — I haven’t got anything in.”

And I said, “You don’t need anything in. It’s all done. All you have to do is be there.”

Nessa said, “Who’s paying for that?”

And I said, “I am. It’s a gift.”

And then I picked up the cool bag with the children’s things in it and I said, “Shall we go about four then?”

Thirteen people got back into three cars at ten to four and drove nine minutes into Ashglen village to a bungalow with a marquee on the lawn.

There was a table for twenty-one under it with a linen runner. There was a man in an apron turning a shoulder of pork. There was a bar with the beer in ice.

And there was a printed menu card at every single place.

Solange Halloran hosted a party at her own house on the fourth of July, 2025, for twenty-one people, and it was the first time in nine years that anybody had eaten a meal at that address.