Amy squelched her speech about how they did know all the facts and it was not simply a cause, but an actual island. “Well, I hope you’re having a good time,” she said instead.

“I met your sweet daughter at the front door, but I have not yet met your son. Is he around? I see his pictures,” Mrs. Stevenson said.

“Oh, he’s upstairs. He’ll be down shortly. I’ll introduce you to him.” Complete frustration rose within her, and she directed the feeling toward Lisbeth. What was she doing keeping Jack up there all night?

Amy excused herself and climbed the stairs, determined to end this stupid fight and bring her son down to the crowd.

She knocked on the door. “Jack? Are you still in there?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Hon, you need to come down and help your sister with the coats, mingle. . . . Mrs. Stevenson wants to meet you.” Amy leaned her forehead on the door frame as she spoke.

“I’m coming.” Then there was something she didn’t understand as Lisbeth’s sniffles and nose blowing camouflaged Jack’s words.

“What?” Amy called through the door.

“I’m coming . . . in a minute, Mom.”

“Now, Nick, now.”

The door flew open. Jack stood with his tie undone, brow furrowed. “What did you just say?”

“I said to come now. This is rude.” She didn’t care what Lisbeth thought of her intrusion. This was ridiculous.

“No, what did you just call me?”

“I didn’t call you anything. I told you to come down now.”

“No, you called me Nick.”

“I did not.”

Lisbeth appeared in the door, her face still beautiful beneath the red eyes and swollen nose. Her blue eyes, even liquid with tears, were extraordinary.

Lisbeth spoke through a tissue. “You did. You called him Nick—my dad.”

“Jack, Nick, they must sound the same. I did not. Now come on down to the party.” She couldn’t have said that—was her internal confusion turning external? Please, no. She softened her voice, lowered her eyes in what she hoped was a demure look of pleading, not the bitch mom.

Lisbeth spoke. “Is my dad here yet?”

“Not that I know of.” She turned from them. “But your mom is still here. Y’all come on and join the party.”

Amy didn’t turn to see if they’d obeyed her. She didn’t want to look at Lisbeth’s face, or Jack’s accusing eyes. Nick. Had she really said that? She wasn’t even sure. No, she couldn’t have.

Their footsteps followed her down the stairs—good.

As she reached the bottom step, Eliza appeared from the side door to the sunroom, Amy’s office. Amy had shut the door before the party, even tied a red satin ribbon across the glass doorknobs to prevent anyone from entering. It was an off-limits room during a party.

“You lost?” Amy asked.