Katie laughed. “Not in the least. My maiden name is O’Connor. I converted to marry Mel.” She nodded at Violet’s gaping mouth. “I was raised Southern Baptist in Atlanta. My parents have never met their grandchildren—you’d think I married Duke Ellington. Mel’s folks are even worse. They’d be happier if he’d run off with Gypsy Rose Lee.”

Melvin began to squirm in Violet’s arms and reached for his mother as the men entered the room. Violet forgot Southern lady protocol and jumped up to greet Mel, who shook her hand heartily. He was a tall, handsome man with dark brown eyes and hair; Violet thought he resembled a very young Clark Gable. Mel looked about twenty years old.

“Welcome, Violet,” he said. “We’re happy to meet you.”

Katie chimed in, “Don’t let him fool you, Violet. He’s thirty-three, but keeps a portrait in his office to do his aging like Dorian Gray. I married an older man.”

“That painting depicts an ancestor of mine, Judah P. Benjamin. He was the first lawyer in the family, and my mother presented me with the portrait when I passed the bar. He holds no magic, I assure you. I’m just naturally young and good-looking.”

“Judah P. Benjamin, Secretary of State for the Confederacy?” Violet asked.

“Ah, so you’re a history buff,” Mel answered.

“No, I hate history. That’s the only thing I remember from Miss Forrestal’s class,” she said.

“Well, old Judah was some sort of great uncle or cousin on Mother’s side. If the Jews had saints, he’d have been one in my childhood household. These days he gazes upon my desk with disapproval.”

“Stop it, Mel,” Katie ordered. “Violet, I need to feed the baby. Why don’t you come back to our bedroom with me? Excuse us, gentlemen.” She stood and flipped Melvin onto her shoulder.

Katie and Mel’s bedroom was a riot of pink and green. It featured what Violet guessed had to have been Katie’s childhood bed—an elaborate white four poster with canopy. Katie settled the baby at her breast and announced, “Yes, it’s not the best thing for his masculinity...but I make him sleep here.”

“What was that remark about his ancestor gazing on his desk with disapproval?” Violet asked.

Katie sighed. “Mel’s lost a lot of clients since he married a shiksa.” She saw Violet’s blank look and added, “Non-Jewish girl.” Violet nodded, patting the fluffy pink chenille bedspread. “Have you met Sam’s parents?” she continued.

“No,” Violet said, “I’ve never even seen them up close.”

Katie switched the baby to the other side, biting her lower lip. “Look, Violet...it’s probably not my place...but you should know they chose Deborah to marry Sam years ago. The families are very close. Sam and Deborah grew up together.”

“So did Sam and I,” Violet answered, indignant.