She walked toward her room, then bent to pick up a fallen ivy leaf from the candle display and slide it back on the table. Phil vacuumed the sitting room—one last sweep before the guests arrived. She tried not to think about the guests—the Lowry guests specifically.

Well, she would just think about which dress to wear. She’d bought two gowns, right after Jack had informed her of the added guests—right after Phil had informed her he would do nothing to help her find out the name of the buyer. One dress was black, cutting in a V between her breasts without being cut too low, then tapering down to thin, sheer panels at the bottom. It was slit up the side, and she’d bought black strappy sandals, a little higher than she usually wore, to go with it.

The other dress was silver: silk, long, demure. There was nothing sheer about it, yet there might as well have been, the way it hugged her body from top to ankle.

She decided to check on the kids before she began the slow and painful process of makeup and hair. It didn’t matter what she did to her hair; it would wave around her shoulders by midevening.

At the top of the stairs she stopped; she’d forgotten to turn on the music. She turned on her slippered feet, stepped down the creaking stairs to choose CDs for the stereo before she checked on Jack’s and Molly’s progress in getting ready for the party. She hoped they’d at least taken showers. Murmurs came from Molly’s bedroom at the top of the landing; Amy paused.

The warmth of her children’s voices, of having them both home, felt like a lit ember in her middle. She stopped just to listen, to know they were near. They were talking about Lisbeth; Jack was complaining—something about Lisbeth’s clinginess, her overwhelming need to know where he was all the time.

Amy smiled and crept up one more step. Molly was giving her high school advice.

“Ooh, don’t you hate that? Calling on the cell phone every five minutes because they can’t find you?”

“Yeah, and then you have to pretend you were out-of-area or that your cell phone went dead, you know?” Jack answered.

Molly laughed. Amy frowned. Jack and Lisbeth were having problems.

The conversation reached a lull and Amy moved to enter Molly’s room. Jack’s voice caused her to freeze; she crouched down.

“Hey, Molly, did you know Mom and Nick, Lisbeth’s dad, used to date in college?”

“No. That’s kinda weird.”

“Yeah, a little. If I tell you something, will you promise not to get all freaked out on me?”

“What? You think I’m gonna freak out that Mom once dated someone besides Dad? Give me a break—”

“No, not that, snot breath.”