That was for sure. My children were never going to learn Mandarin at their preschool.

Sallie nudged her sister. “We loved First Methodist. Remember the youth group?”

“Mommy, go!” Daisy demanded. “Cookie time!”

“In a second, honey.” DJ’s blankie was dragging on the ground. I stooped to retrieve it. “I promised them we’d get cookies. We all deserve a treat after Santa.”

Belle raised perfectly waxed brows without wrinkling her forehead. “Do you think that’s wise?”

I bristled. “Daisy’s in the thirtieth percentile of weight gain for her age.” Twentieth for height. Developing normally, the pediatrician said, a little ahead of her twin. She certainly wasn’t fat.

“I meant for you,” Belle said.

Sallie grabbed her sister’s arm. “It’s been great seeing you, Meg,” she said, sounding sincere. “We really need to get together.”

“I’d like that. Any special plans for the holidays?”

“Not really. Ned is taking me to Hawaii in January. So we’ll probably just go to the beach house with the family.” Sallie brightened. “You should come.”

I blinked. “I’m afraid Hawaii is a little . . .” Out of our budget. “Far away.”

“Not Hawaii, silly. The beach. There’s plenty of room.”

Oh. Longing swept me. John and I had spent our first night together at Carolina Beach. But the years when I could take off for the beach with nothing but a swimsuit and some sunscreen were gone. Nowadays, it was an effort to pack the twins to go to the grocery store.

“Aren’t you sweet. Thank you. But we’re going to Momma’s for Thanksgiving this year.” The way we did every year. John’s family wasn’t really into holidays. “Beth and Amy are coming home,” I added, by way of explanation. “And Momma’s invited Mr. Laurence and Trey.”

“Clever Momma,” Belle drawled. “Inviting the boss to dinner. Didn’t you used to go out with him?”

I flushed. Aunt Phee always said it was as easy to love a rich man as a poor one. But Momma wasn’t like that. Our parents had raised us to value love, not money.

Mischief seized me. I shook my head. “He’s a little old for me,” I said demurely.

“What are you talking about?” Belle asked.

“Mr. Laurence,” I said. “He must be seventy, at least.”

Sallie laughed.

“I meant Trey,” Belle said.

“He’s too young. It would be like dating my brother.”

“Or your brother-in-law,” Sallie said. “Remember? He and Jo had a thing for a while,” she said to Belle.

“Jo? But she’s so . . .” Belle took one look at my face and stopped.

Too late.

“Smart?” I suggested sweetly. “Sure of herself?”

“How is Jo?” Sallie asked, making peace. “She’s living in New York now, right? When is she coming home?”

“Soon.” Not soon enough. “Christmas.”

“Won’t that be nice.”

“Yes.”

“Well.” Sallie bit her lip. Glanced uncertainly at Belle.

Sallie and I had grown up together. Her birthdays had been a series of firsts for me: my first unicorn ride (a white pony with a glitter horn), my first spa visit, my first party with boys.