“If it’s an emergency,” I said. “I mean … I don’t usually babysit.”

Fritz appeared to recover from his shock. He raised his eyebrows and smiled broadly, as if he now thought this was a perfect solution. “It would be really great for us. We’re in a bind.”

“We can’t cancel the dinner,” Amelia said.

Every muscle in my feet, calves, thighs, shoulders, jaw, scalp, and brow all contracted and then simultaneously released. “Yes, then. Yes.”

CHAPTER TWO

I’m usually a voyeur, not a participant. Amelia and Fritz were embracing me and including me—turning to me in a time of need, as a trusted friend.

Amelia and Fritz went upstairs to freshen up. Natalie said a perfunctory goodbye to her friend Piper at the door. Alone, without her friends around her, I found it easier to study Natalie’s character and appearance. Her features were lacking in definition, except for her silver eyes, surrounded by black eyelashes.

She pointed to something resembling a braid in her relatively short hair. “Piper started it, but I really wanted a Dutch braid. Do you know how to do one?”

I examined the mass of Natalie’s tangled hair. “Let’s try.”

Natalie led me up to the small, but impeccable, second-floor bathroom. A subtle striped wallpaper surrounded us. She picked up a thin purple hair ribbon, one of many ribbons and clips that were resting on the marble vanity. “I’d like for you to weave this in.”

Dutch braids were in my repertoire, but Natalie’s fine, layered hair posed a challenge. She watched me in the oversize mirror as I untangled Piper’s braid, if you could call it that. Once Natalie’s hair was tangle free, I started by braiding the shortest hair near the crown of her head and then I pulled a little more hair into each section each time. Most of the shorter hair tucked into the Dutch braid neatly. Where it didn’t, I used a bobby pin. Apparently, it was good enough for her.

“Mom!” She ran out of the bathroom and down the hall into what I guessed was the master suite and then disappeared inside. “Look!”

“Lovely, sweetheart.” I heard Amelia’s voice from behind a closed door. I imagined Amelia seated at her dressing table in front of a Hollywood-style vanity mirror. Next to her on the chaise longue lay the outfit she’d chosen for the evening. “Make yourself at home, Delta,” she called out. “Help yourself to anything you see.”

Another tide of warmth flooded my body, similar to earlier when Amelia had asked me to babysit. What exactly was she referring to when she said “anything”? Food, wine, clothing, cosmetics, linens?

Natalie came running back out of the master bedroom toward the bathroom again. “I’ve got an idea! I can do your hair!”