My heart leaped. “Yes! Sadie! That’s right! Great job, Dad!” He smiled at me and looked back at the TV. I kissed his head. “Got anything else for me? Can you say ‘hi’?”

Nothing. Well. That was okay. He’d almost said my name. “I’ll be back in a bit,” I told him. “Juliet’s having a crisis, and since this has never happened before, I want a front-row seat.”

He didn’t respond or look at me. I left SpongeBob on and returned to the kitchen. “I think Dad just said my name.”

“Good for you,” Mom said.

My sister looked like hell, despite the fact that Pepper was now licking away her tears. “What’s wrong, sis?” I asked.

“My life is falling apart.”

“Oh, that.” My mom cut me a look. “Sorry. Is it really, Jules? You have the world’s best husband, two healthy girls, that incredible job, a house, health care, money . . .”

She started crying again, and I felt evil. But come on. First-world problems, people!

“She’s overwhelmed,” Mom said. “She’s allowed to be overwhelmed, Sadie. Your sister has done more with her life than anyone I know.”

“Point taken. You have, Jules. You’re amazing and impressive and sometimes even likable.”

“Sadie!” Mom snapped, but my sister snorted a little, then blew her nose.

“Here’s an idea,” I said. “Mom, no offense, but you look wrung out. As much as we all enjoy my role as flaky little sister, why don’t you let me take over for a couple days? You two go to . . . I don’t know. Go to the city. Go to Boston. I’ll stay with Dad, and if your girls need anything, I can handle it if Oliver’s at work.”

“Sadie. The town’s anniversary is less than a month away,” Mom started. “I have a thousand things to do.”

“I think you’re allowed to have a day or two off, even if you run the universe, Mother. Especially after the winter you’ve had.”

“She’s right,” Juliet said, her voice thick, tears still dripping. “You need some time to recharge.”

“You’re going, too, Juliet. The two of you are best friends, and don’t bother denying it. I’m Dad’s favorite, at least. Oh! I know. That shithead Alexander took me to this great place last year. If he was good at anything, it was self-indulgence.” I pulled out my phone and typed a few words. “The Mandarin Oriental in Boston. Amazing spa.” Expensive spa. “I’ll treat. I just sold a big painting.”

“I’ll pay,” Jules said.

“Let me be the rich one this time,” I said, tapping away. “Okay? Okay. That’s settled. Ta-da! I just booked you a room for two nights with a couple hours at the spa. You go, girls. Throw some stuff into a bag, order room service, shop, eat, go on a duck boat. Enjoy. Relax. It’s an order.”