Charlotte looked puzzled, and I realized I had been too forceful with her. I tried to never raise my voice, never get upset. “I’m sorry,” I said. “This is the Delia effect. She isn’t even in the room and she’s irritating me.” And I was leaving. It wasn’t like I could keep Iris. What was wrong with me?

Charlotte nodded. “Iris isn’t going to be happy,” she said. “She loves it here. But New York is her home too, so I think she’ll adjust.”

Grace walked over and hugged her. “I’m so proud of you.”

They both looked at me. I knew this was the moment that I was supposed to say something heartfelt. But I couldn’t quite muster it. Because I didn’t mean it. I didn’t want her to leave, and I needed to do some work to figure out why. Was I less ready than I thought to move in with Elliott? No. I knew I was ready. I just wanted both. Life with Elliott, and the mommune. But that wasn’t reality.

Fortunately, I was saved from too much soul-searching by Julie opening the porch door and saying, “The show was marvelous! And we have some hungry, hungry dancers!”

“Oh, I know it was amazing!” I said. “We’ll have to catch an encore performance!”

I finished setting the table while everyone filed in to sit down. Merit, Emma, Iris, and her friend Ben arrived, and I couldn’t help but smile at the little group of them. Iris pining over Merit, Ben pining over Iris, Emma just wanting to do anything and everything that Iris did.

I realized we didn’t have enough seats at the same time Ben did. “I’m so sorry!” he said. “I can go home for dinner.”

“No, no! Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, scooting over the chair at the head of the table and sliding another one in beside it. “We were expecting you. I promise.”

My sister glared at me. “What she means to say is that her perfect table is ruined because she wasn’t expecting me.”

I knew better than to fire back at her. I was trained in the art of letting things slide. But I was flustered and frazzled by Charlotte’s news. Which was ridiculous because the bottom line was that I was planning to leave too. It was all hitting me at once. That sadness and frustration hadn’t left me any room to deal with my sister. “Well, no, Delia, I wasn’t expecting you. Since you didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Much to my surprise, she didn’t respond. Grace carried several trays to the table. “Cauliflower tacos with cashew crema!” she announced. We all clapped, as we did most nights, because Grace’s creations were always masterpieces.

“My favorite!” Brenna squealed.

Delia was studying the trays critically. “Where’s the meat?”