“Unclear. You should see what she did downstairs. It’s Southern gentry shabby chic,” Sarah said, then pushed open a door and immediately stepped aside, letting Natalie get the first huge whiff of extra sweet cotton candy smell.

Natalie recoiled with a yelp and felt an instant headache bloom. “Seriously?”

Sarah shook her head. “Mom’s aesthetic may have changed, but her love affair with department store diffusers is alive and well.”

The room was filled with massive pillows upholstered in Native American chevron patterns, not a piece of furniture in the place. As soon as the door of the room was closed, Natalie pulled out her iPhone. Unchecked for a terrifying ten minutes, it was alive with notifications; twenty-four new notifications on Twitter, thirty new followers on Snapchat, twenty-two new friend requests on Facebook. Each notification made her feel more invigorated, just the shot in the arm she needed.

“Natalie? What are you doing?” Sarah asked.

Natalie answered without looking up from her phone. “Checking my messages on social. I have almost five hundred new followers and a ton of messages in the last hour because I got to anchor this morning. It’s crazy.” She toggled over to Instagram. She’d forgotten to check her Insta account.

“You have a follower right here, who would love your attention,” Sarah said and there was an unfamiliar edge in her sister’s voice. “Not to mention a wedding that’s waiting on you.”

Natalie looked up and saw that Lulu was staring adoringly at her. Overcome with a wave of shame, she dropped onto her knees and held out her arms, gesturing for Lulu to come give her a hug. Cronkite rushed in at the same time as Lulu and three of them fell over and started rolling around on the ground, clutched in a big furry ball.

“I’m sorry,” Natalie said, looking up at Sarah from the floor. “I’m being a jerk. I’m just distracted and stressed and tired and the traffic was awful.”

“Gramma says you’re selfish,” Lulu offered. “And she says you always put work first just like Grandpa did.”

Even in the safe warmth of the hug, the words stung. Since meeting Gerald, her mother had become increasingly critical of her dad. He’d been selfish to work so hard. He was more interested in reading than in spending time with his family. He had punished her by dying. Since her mother enjoyed pointing out how much Natalie was like her father, the insults began to feel transferable.

“I can’t remember. Did Mom put Dad down this much when he was alive?” Natalie asked.

Sarah’s face wrinkled. “What are you talking about?”

Natalie did her best Noreen imitation. “I used to be miserable, but now with my new life I have art and orgasms.”

“What is an orgasm?” Lulu asked.

“Something grown-ups get,” Natalie told her.

“Like divorces?”

Natalie shook her head. “Not really like divorces. Nicer.”

“Orgasm,” Lulu repeated.