Her face is relaxed as she carries the bag and sits down at the end of the sofa. Taylor plops into the folding chair wedged next to her. She is energetic, which is surprising as she seemed almost lethargic for most of the evening. Maybe she’s preoccupied and distressed about her job situation. Jeannie, on Allie’s other side, sips from a glass of wine. Allie’s hair is softly shoulder length, highlighted in golden tones. Sometime tonight she reapplied lipstick, hoping to enhance her thin lips. She told me that she’s on an endless quest to find lipstick or gloss that appears to thicken her lips. Particularly her upper lip. She’s the only one who notices. The rest of us notice her broad smile and aura of boundless youth. The oil that gave her pimples in her teenage years has redeemed itself by granting her unlined skin now that makes her look younger than her years. She’s in her early sixties but is often seen as in her forties.

She has a lover in his early thirties. It’s no secret. We all love T.J. He’s smart but wild. A perfect combination for her. He cracks up at her jokes and his thrill at her offbeat sense of humor has made us appreciate her one-liners even more. They’ve been together for three years and have been splitting up for the last two, but she consistently allows him to pull her back. They may do this dance for the next decade unless Allie ends it once and for all.

Actually, he’s not just a lover. He lived with her for over a year. They have so much fun and seem so happy, I don’t know why they don’t decide to stay together. I’ve told her that many times.

“Men can always have children. He wants children.”

“There’re other ways to get children.”

“My daughters offered to be inseminated so we could have his child, but that was too strange for him.”

“Adoption? Foster children?”

“He wants an ordinary family. With children. And he’s afraid I’ll die when he’s about fifty and that he’ll be alone.”

Men do it all the time,” I said. “Why can’t you?” Two years ago we were on her porch, trees surrounding us. A pitcher of iced tea and a bowl of cut cantaloupe and blueberries waited on her marble table. Allie wore a bright green T-shirt and a beach glass necklace that brought out the green of her eyes. See. I don’t know why she thinks her features are bland.

“A widower in his fifties doesn’t need to be alone. There’re thousands of us who’ll scoop him up.”

Allie tilted her chin back and laughed.