Sherri put her hand over her heart and wondered if it would ever slow down to its normal rhythm. She turned back to Brooke. Brooke was watching Sherri closely. She looked partly bemused, and partly nakedly curious. She had finished her wine and was pouring herself a second glass. “More?” she asked Sherri.

“No thank you. I’d—we’d better get going.” Sherri called to Katie to gather her things and say good-bye and thank you. She was suddenly in a hurry to get out of there. She turned back to Brooke and said, “I’m sorry! My manners. Thank you so much. What a fun afternoon for the girls. What a beautiful home you have.” Not that she’d seen the home. She’d have to be more normal next time, see if she could wrangle an invitation inside.

“Thank you!” said Brooke, in a modest/not-modest way.

Sherri fumbled in her bag for her keys, and that’s when it happened.

“Hey,” said Brooke. She hesitated for a second, and then seemed to give herself permission. “We’re all going out to Plum Island Grille tonight. It’s Esther’s birthday.” Sherri waited. And then came those five words. “You should come with us.”

“If I went out to dinner tonight,” Sherri ventured in the car on the way home, “would you be okay, Katie-kins? There’s Miss Josephine, if you need her.” Their neighbor in the half-house, an elderly widow with a Papillon, had grumpily offered to look in on Katie if Sherri ever wanted her to.

“I won’t need her,” said Katie. “You should go, Mom. You never go out anymore.”

Sherri felt a childish excitement, the excitement of being included. You should come with us. Funny how five words could change her mood in a flash.

Don’t be silly, she told herself. It’s just one invitation, probably because she felt bad for you, or because she was tipsy. That’s all. You shouldn’t even go.

But she should. She would!

When Sherri was getting ready for dinner, Katie slipped into her room and watched her brushing her hair in the mirror over the dresser. The mirror was here when they got here, as was the dresser—the whole place was fully furnished. At the time Sherri had been grateful not to have to buy furniture, but now she felt there was something sad about living with other people’s castoffs.

“Can you dress up tonight, Mom? The way you used to?”

Sherri kept brushing and said, “I don’t have any of those clothes anymore.” Then, softly, an addition: “You know that.”

Katie nodded and sat on the bed, tucking her bare legs under her, accepting.

“I was pretty then, I know,” said Sherri. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail, then fastened it with an elastic. She looked in the mirror, considering. She turned toward Katie, who was looking at her severely.