Johnny got out of his car and went to Tully. They stood close enough together that their shoulders were touching. Laughing at something the driver said Tully looked up at Johnny, pressing her hand to his chest as she spoke.

They looked perfect together, like models pulled from the pages of a glossy fashion magazine.

“Daddy sure likes Aunt Tully,” Marah said.

“He sure does,” Kate muttered, but Marah was already gone. Her daughter opened the door and ran to her godmother, who scooped her up and twirled her around.

Tully came into the house like she did everything: in a maelstrom of sound and light. She hugged Kate fiercely, kissed the boys’ pudgy cheeks, handed out more gifts than a Ryan family Christmas, and demanded a drink.

All through dinner, she entertained them, told them stories about being in Paris for Y2K and the panic that preceded it, about the recent Oscars ceremony she’d attended and how they’d taped the dress over her boobs and how the adhesive had failed her at a party when she did a straight shot.

“Everyone in the room got a shot,” she said, laughing, “if you know what I mean.”

Marah hung on Tully’s every word. “Was it an Armani?” she asked.

Kate was absolutely dumbfounded to hear Tully say, “Yes, it was, Marah. I see you know your fashion designers. I’m proud of you.”

“I saw pictures in the magazine. They said you were one of the best dressed.”

“You have to work at that,” Tully said, beaming. “A whole team of people work to make me look good.”

“Wow,” Marah said yet again. “That’s so cool.”

When Tully had exhausted the celebrity fashion topics, she turned to world politics. She and Johnny debated the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal and the press coverage of it in fierce detail; Marah jumped in at every lull with endless questions about teenage celebrities Tully knew personally and Kate had never heard of. Frankly, the boys were such a handful it took all of her concentration and effort to keep them quiet. Kate kept meaning to say something, add a comment or two, but the boys picked tonight to throw food at each other, and she had to be vigilant to keep them in check.

The dinner seemed to last a nanosecond. When it was over, Marah, in a pathetically transparent attempt to impress Tully, cleared the table.

“I’ll do the dishes,” Johnny said. “Why don’t you and Tully get some blankets and sit outside?”

“You’re a prince,” Tully said. “I’ll make a pitcher of margaritas. Katie, you put Huey and Louie to bed and I’ll meet you outside in fifteen minutes.”

Kate nodded and carried the boys upstairs. By the time she was done bathing and dressing and reading to them, it was close to eight o’clock.

Feeling a little weary herself, she went downstairs, where she found Marah curled on Tully’s lap.