Juliet is my oldest friend. I met her in homeroom in ninth grade, the only girl I knew who loved Marvin Gaye and BB King when the Beatles and the Monkees swept the other kids. She’s two months older than I am, but because of the oily skin that cursed her teen years with zits, her skin is unlined. We often joke that the plague of high school became her blessing after forty and my perfect poreless, translucent skin now reveals my character.

Before Charlene can answer, Rosie bursts from the bedroom shaking the pictures of Olivia, Laurie’s baby. “Ohmigod. She’s sooooo soooo cute, can’t you just eat her up?” Olivia is in a car seat, almond eyes above fat cheeks and hair sticking out from a polka-dot pink and purple ribbon. Her mouth is open in one of those grins that express absolute joy. Laurie surprised her with a game of peekaboo to capture that moment. Rosie bites her lower lip with her teeth and shakes her head, her eyes fill with tears, and I know now that she believes a baby is worth risking her marriage for. And for a second the door is open to her future, just as the real door opens and Allie enters. No coat. Sunglasses on even though darkness has fallen. Arms wrapped around bags. She doesn’t barge in but walks around us, tiptoeing around our conversation and into the office to drop off her cookies. Then she goes back out and reenters, this time with a coat slung over her arm, her sunglasses in her teeth, and a casserole covered in foil that she holds with both hands. “Entrées here?” she asks. I nod and she wedges her platter next to the Thai noodles and rips off the foil to reveal barbecued chicken. “Coats in the bedroom?”

Taylor is right behind her. Taylor, with dangling earrings and wrapped in a flowing scarf that she doesn’t take off. Right now, in spite of the gorgeous scarf, black net with pink and white polka dots, she looks drab. She brings in chips and dip and her cookies and a bottle of wine all at once. The clothes are the remnants of her singing career.

I nod. I love this part of the evening, when my friends arrive bustling with excitement and armed with goodies. They bring warmth in spite of the cold and convey the season’s thrill. Once again we feel a child’s excitement for Christmas. I’ve set the stage, but they fill it with the action, the emotion, the event that is by its very nature best because of serendipity. Well, and the love we all have for one another. And our shared history. Every year, I can hardly wait for them to arrive, thrilled to see each one.