But, see, I hadn’t offered because I didn’t want her to stay. I had decided, after losing my nerve many times, that tonight I was going to sit down with this little family of mine and tell them that I was planning to move in with Elliott. That they could take all the time they needed. That there was no rush. If it took months or even years, we could wait. We would work it out. I was so happy to move in with him. But I was so sad—and, quite frankly, a little terrified—to be moving in a different direction. I had succeeded at mommune life. I couldn’t say the same for couple life.

“Grace!” Charlotte said in a high-pitched voice. “Why don’t we open some wine for Julie’s mother?”

Julie’s mother didn’t need wine. Julie’s mother got even worse when wine was involved. That said, I desperately needed wine. And I thought it might be better for me to have something to calm me down, even if it amplified her.

“I’ll bring it to the porch,” I said. “Give you and Julie a little time to catch up.”

“Yes,” Delia said. “Thank you. It will be nice to have a little time with my daughter.”

Julie shot me a conciliatory smile as she closed the porch door behind them.

“She’s always reminding me Julie is her daughter. Her daughter,” I said, feeling myself getting worked up. “Where was she when her daughter and her grandchildren were living in that disgusting roach-infested apartment with water stains all over the ceiling? Where was she when her grandchildren were wearing too-small shoes because Julie had no savings, a new reporting job, and couldn’t afford groceries, rent, and shoes?”

Grace silently handed me a glass of wine, while Charlotte perched on a stool and watched me sympathetically. This was the best part about a house of women. They understood when you simply wanted to vent. “I’ll take wine out to Delia,” Grace whispered.

Jamie tore into the kitchen. “Anally! We’re going to do a show for Nana!” She was wearing a sparkly pink tutu over her school uniform and a pair of red Wizard of Oz slippers, and my heart swelled. When the girls moved in, they were too little to say, “Aunt Alice.” Instead, it came out “Anally,” and the nickname had stuck.

“Yay!” I said, gathering all my enthusiasm. I pulled her to me, and my heart hurt with how much I loved her.