“That’s my mother’s boyfriend, Howard. Come in and meet everyone.”

I hook my arm around her waist, not wanting to lose contact.

“Here we go,” she says under her breath, then puts on a dazzling smile, like she’s ready for the red carpet.

Chloe

Just as Nick and I enter the kitchen, Charlotte sweeps into the room, a vision in a pink Oscar de la Renta dress and black patent sandals. Her idea of what to wear for a quiet night at home, babysitting.

“I am exhausted,” she announces. “Just wiped out. What a day.”

Let’s think about this for a second. Let’s compare days.

“Well,” she says, inspecting me, “Look at you. Is that lipstick?”

“Chloe always looks beautiful,” Howard says calmly. “She’s your daughter.”

Howard missed his true calling. He should have been a high-level diplomat. An ambassador between warring nations. Instead he became a manufacturer of high-design kitchen tools. Still a service to humanity, IMHO, but he made millions. He arrived an hour ago, and already my stress level has dropped.

While my mother has failed to acknowledge the man on my arm, Howard’s giving him the once-over, like an old lion sizing up the new alpha, his jowls turning down with an impressive, contemplative frown. I pour two glasses of bourbon, start to drink one, and nearly drink the other before giving it to Nick.

“It’s a sample from our new private-label cosmetics line,” I tell her. “The shade is called ‘Go CommandO.’ Do you like it?”

She squints. “Nice. A little on the red side for you. Are there any more samples?”

“I’ll have Carrie send some over.”

Howard hands her a frosted martini glass, with a kiss on the cheek and side-eye at Nick that I can’t decipher. Grey Goose, two olives. The olives are Charlotte’s idea of hors d’oeuvres. Ten calories each. And green vegetables, sort of.

“You’re right. She does always look beautiful,” Nick says quietly. My skin suddenly feels hot.

“This is Nick,” I say quickly. “Nick, this is my mother, Charlotte.”

She gives him a hundred-watt smile, and her manicured hand. Her bracelets jingle as they shake hands.

“And this is Howard.” The two men square off, Nick towering over Howard. The strength of their handshake could bend iron girders, Howard’s protectiveness obvious, his mouth leveling out into a look that says Nick passed his first test.

Handshake grip acceptable.

“How lovely to meet you, Nick.” She looks at his glass of bourbon. “I see you have a cocktail. Why are we all in the kitchen? Chloe has become such a casual person. This is not how she was raised.”

“Having a new baby will do that to you. I don’t think I’ve even turned on the lights in the living room since Holly arrived.”

“Let’s go turn them on now.” Charlotte’s already headed in that direction, with a bowl of Marcona almonds in one hand and her martini in the other.

Nick clears his throat. “I think Chloe’s way is perfect. I always feel comfortable here. And welcome. She’s a great hostess.”

He’s only been here once before, but Charlotte doesn’t know that. I smile at him gratefully.

“Bless your heart,” she says, “what lovely manners.”

She’s back before the rest of us have stood up.

“Chloe, there seems to be laundry on every seat in there. What have you been doing all day?”

I actually can’t think of a good answer to that.

“I just remembered, I brought this for Holly.” Nick says quickly. He picks up a wrapped and beribboned package and hands it to me. “Open it.”

I smile at him and slide the ribbon off, and at that moment Holly starts to fuss in the bedroom.

“I’ll go get her and be right back.” I hesitate briefly, because this means leaving Nick exposed to Charlotte, but Howard will run interference.

I love picking Holly up from her naps. I get so excited to see her again, feel the weight and warmth of her little body.

I perform a quick diaper change. Funny to think how panicked I was about diaper skills. Was that only weeks ago?

“Turn on the charm, girlfriend,” I advise her, as I snap her leggings. “Make eye contact. Be interested in others.”

She ignores me and stares at the ceiling.

Okay then. I see where this is going.

As we head back toward the kitchen, I hear Charlotte saying, “Charlie is your younger brother? How is Charlie? That boy could sell ice to the Eskimos. Terrible influence on Chloe.”

“He’s currently selling surfboards to the landlocked,” Nick replies. “And is a terrible influence on my kids.”

“Ah, you have children! And how old are they?”

“My daughters are twenty-one, and my son is nineteen.”

“Oh my, they’re grown! Your job is done. You’re an empty-nester! I remember that wonderful feeling of freedom.” She smiles.

Perfect. Thanks, Mom. Well done.

Charlotte frowns. “Did you say daughters? Both twenty-one?”

“Yes. Twins.” When he smiles, a dimple appears in his chin.

“That’s a bit excessive, don’t you think?” Only my mother could make an act of biology into a breach of etiquette.

“And here they are!” Howard says with great cheer, as we enter. Holly looks like a muppet. I realize I have a mental image but don’t know the name of the one with red hair that stands up on end. I huff her baby scalp. In a year, I imagine, I’ll know the names of every single muppet. I’ll probably know their birthdates and social security numbers by memory. I wonder if Elmo dresses left.

Nick looks up and meets my eyes, and the world goes quiet. I realize I am holding my breath.

He stands and walks over to us.

“Well, hello, little girl,” he says softly to Holly. And to me, “I’d forgotten how small they are.” He’s so enchanted. The way Nick looks at Holly takes my breath away. I wish a man would look at me like that.

And then he does.

“‘But little girls get bigger every day,’” Howard sings.

“Gigi,” Charlotte sighs. “That movie changed my life. Even as a child, I just knew I’d love Paris.”

Howard begins murmuring in her ear.