“Actually, I can tell you something,” Marcy offered. “I mean besides the fact that she’s an interior designer. Apparently, she used to be a detective and is who everyone goes to if they’re in any kind of trouble.”

Slightly thrown by that, Claudia turned to look at her. “A detective?” she echoed.

“That’s right,” Marcy replied distractedly. “Henry said she gave it up a few years ago and—”

“Who’s Henry?” Claudia interrupted.

“Oh, just someone I know at the community center.”

Jasmine said, “Have you still not told her about him, Nana? I thought you had.”

As Claudia’s eyes widened Marcy became defensive. “There’s nothing to tell,” she retorted. “He’s just a friend.”

“But you’ve got a thing for him. You told me that yourself.”

“I didn’t say a thing, I said he’s an interesting man, that’s all.”

As she listened to them squabble and tease Claudia realized that her suspicions earlier were correct: this was why her mother always made such an effort when she went out. “Well,” she commented loudly, “I thought if any one of us was going to come home with a boyfriend it would have been Jasmine . . .”

“He’s not a boyfriend,” Marcy interrupted. “In fact, I’ve never been alone with him, apart from for a few minutes here and there. However, it seems that now might be as good a time as any to tell you that in the event he does get around to asking me out, I will probably say yes.”

Claudia watched Jasmine bounce into her grandmother’s arms, as thrilled as if she had a potential date lined up herself.

Marcy regarded her daughter curiously. “Would you rather I didn’t go?” she asked over Jasmine’s shoulder.

Jasmine spun around. “Don’t you dare say no,” she warned her mother.

“I wasn’t going to,” Claudia protested. “It’s not up to me, and actually I think it’s . . . wonderful. I’m just asking myself. . . . I mean, are you going to be interested in this new house if you’ve got other plans?”

“For heaven’s sake,” Marcy exclaimed. “Talk about getting things out of perspective. I want to see the house and if it’s right for us, I want to live in it.”

“Excuse me, what house?” Jasmine demanded. “No one’s mentioned anything to me about a house.”

“I saw it today,” Claudia explained. “It’s on Westleigh Heights: as far as I’m concerned it’s a dream home—or it will be—and I can hardly wait for you to see it.” She turned back to her mother, determined to hide how crushed she’d feel if Marcy answered her next question with a no. “Are you sure you want to live with us? You’re used to your independence . . .”