“I need a muffin to help me think,” Danny says, suddenly leaping to his feet. “I’ll be back in a moment, Elinor.”

As I head to the muffin stand alongside him, Danny looks delighted with himself.

“I’m basing a whole new collection around Elinor,” he tells me. “Danny Kovitz Classic. Like, a semi-couture line for the lady of silver years.”

“Silver dollars, more like,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Both.” He winks at me. “You know, Elinor has a very good sense of style.”

“Well, yes…Only, she’s a bit rigid.”

“I don’t find that,” says Danny complacently. “I find her very receptive to new ideas.”

“Well, obviously she’s hit it off with you,” I say, a bit jealously. I had been thinking of myself as Elinor’s fashion guru. I mean, I’m the one who got her into wrap dresses. But now Danny will take over and claim all the credit. “Anyway, enjoy. How much are you going to charge her for all this?”

“Oh, not more than the price of a small condo in Mexico,” murmurs Danny. “I already googled the one I want.”

“Danny!”

“I just need to sell her three more coats.”

“Danny!” I give him a push. “Don’t exploit my mother-in-law.”

“She’s exploiting me!” retorts Danny. “Do you know how much work this will all be? Hey, I might get myself a waffle.”

As he heads to the other side of the buffet, I wander over to the Italian-themed counter, and I’m just reaching for a cannolo when my phone rings. I pull it out and stare at the display in astonishment. It’s Tarquin. Why’s he phoning me? Did he get the wrong number?

“Hi!” I say breathlessly. “Oh my God, Tarkie, hi! I’ll just get Suze—”

“No!” says Tarquin. “I don’t want to talk to Suze.”

“But—”

“If you get her, Becky, I’ll ring off.”

He sounds so adamant, I gape at the phone.

“But, Tarkie…”

“I phoned to have a conversation with you, Becky. That’s why I dialed your number.”

“But I’m not your wife,” I say, feeling stupid.

“You’re my friend. Aren’t you?”

“Of course. Tarkie…” I rub my head, trying to collect my thoughts. “What’s happened to you?”

“Nothing’s happened to me.”

“But you’ve really changed. You sound fine. In L.A., we all thought—” I stop before I can say, we all thought you were losing it.

And I know that sounds extreme—but, honestly, Tarkie was in a mess. All he wanted to do was spend time with Bryce. All he could talk about was how Suze was sabotaging him. It was miserable.

“I was in a bad way in L.A.,” says Tarkie after a long pause. “It was…claustrophobic. That can make any relationship go in a strange direction.”

He must be talking about himself and Bryce.

“But surely things are even more claustrophobic now?” I say, puzzled. “I mean, now you’re with Bryce all the time, things won’t get any better—”

“I don’t mean Bryce! Why would I mean Bryce? I mean Suze!”