She timed her arrival just right; her rented car pulled into our driveway three hours after Frank pulled out of it. Instead of running out to greet her, I stood near the window, out of sight, and watched her lift Brian from the front seat and take the luggage out of the trunk. She was radiant. Her blond hair was blonder—I assumed from the sun—parted in the middle and drawn back in soft waves to form an old-fashioned bun. Instead of slacks or something else casual, she wore a cream-colored tailored suit. It was a style that seemed to be disappearing, and I was somehow proud of Gloria for hanging on to it. It made her look soft yet determined, behind the times but beyond them too. My stomach churned all the way up to my throat: I felt like a kid whose favorite grandmother was coming to visit.

I finally got myself moving to help her with the luggage. When we got it inside, I hugged her so hard that she laughed. It was good to hear her laugh, the way she used to before I met Frank.

“This is Mommy’s friend,” she said to Brian, who was gripping her skirt. “See, I told you her hair is red.” She turned to me. “I don’t think he’s ever seen a real redhead. Just about everyone in California is a blond.” She brushed his fleecy locks.

“Regina’s taking a nap right now. Are you hungry? Do you want a shower?”

“Just some coffee.” She looked around the living room and into the dining room. “This is beautiful, Irene. Really beautiful.”

“It’s a little too dark. We’re surrounded by trees.”

“I’ll take this any day over that California glare.”

“Stomach hurts,” said Brian.

Gloria put her hand on her stomach and said, “No, it doesn’t.”

“Stomach hurts.”

“Feels fine to me,” she said.

“My stomach hurts.”

“Ohhh, why didn’t you say so? I think you should take off your shoes and lie down on that couch over there.”

“You lie with me.”

“No; Irene and I are going to sit at the dining room table. You’ll be able to hear me.”

He took off his shoes and crawled onto the couch. “I’ll hear you?” he said.

“Now don’t you dare go to sleep. You have to hear me.”

“I won’t go to sleep,” he murmured, his eyes already closed. “I can close my eyes but I can hear you.”

“That’s right. You can close your eyes, but don’t go to sleep.” As we moved into the dining room, she shook her head and smiled. “Oh, the little games they teach us.”