But the women are restless, as though they need a break from this heavy exchange, and so first Rosie gets up and goes into the bathroom. Sissy has taken over my seat and talks with Charlene.

“We should get together and explore this,” Sissy says. “I know the denomination I want to be, but not how to do it.”

Allie talks quietly to Jeannie. I hear her say, “You should tell everybody,” and Jeannie answer, “They wouldn’t understand.”

“They’d understand following your own dream.”

Jeannie nods. And then Allie stands up and goes into the kitchen for some water.

I make coffee and lay out cups, milk, sugar, and Equal while Allie cruises the table. There’re only cheese and crackers left. I add a plate of my peanut brittle and unwrap a rum cake that Vera brought. The ginger flower seems elegant on the almost empty table.

And just then the phone rings. Just then as I place the Bundt cake, with its softly rounded humps and a sweet, slightly tangy scent of rum mixed with confectioners’ sugar, on the table, gently so it doesn’t move on the plate, doesn’t fall off or slide, I feel the tickle on my hip. Just as I withdraw my hand and let the plate with its bounty rest on its own. Just then it vibrates.

I straighten and pull my cell phone from my waistband. Look at the window.

Sure enough there’s the picture of Sky taken last summer when I went to visit her. We ate breakfast on a patio and she was wearing a tank top. Now her gray eyes smile at me. And her grin gives me hope for a positive outcome.

I walk into my bedroom.

I’ll be alone if I need to cry for a minute or two by myself.

Disney follows. His tail doesn’t wag; he senses my tension, my fear, my anticipation.

No one is there but Disney and me and the bed full of coats. A black shiny one with a fur collar and hood, a red one with a crazy-colored wool scarf, a brown one with an elegant bright green cashmere-blend scarf were laid out on my bed. Some placed neatly, their sleeves by their sides as though standing sedately, some with arms akimbo as though caught in a crazy dance step.

I close the door. And flip open the phone.

“Sky?”

“Mom?”

I try to sense from that one word the outcome of the test, but the connection crackles so I can’t hear her clearly.

I inhale.

“Mom?”

“Yes. I’m here.” My words tremble.

“It’s okay. She’s okay.” Sky’s voice trills, lifts at the end of the sentence, loud with excitement and happiness.

I exhale with such force that I sit down on the side of the bed. Sit on someone’s coat.

“Oh, thank God.”