Each of the boys filed past me, giving my cheek a kiss before heading out to load up in the limo. Jinx was their designated chauffeur for the night.

“I thought I did act my age,” I said absently, leaning out the door to peer down the driveway. Headlights crawling my way sent a smile to my lips. “Charlotte, Vance will be here soon!” I yelled toward the stairs.

Foxy scoffed. “No. You act like a forty-year-old mama.”

“Yeah, well, I feel like one most days.” I opened the bag to make sure I had everything.

“What all do you have in there?” Foxy leaned over to peek inside.

I held up a long rectangular box, beautifully wrapped in gold and silver. “These are peanut butter–filled bonbons that I helped Miss Wise eat, I mean make . . .” I replaced it inside and tapped the tops of two jars with a red plaid circle of fabric and green ribbon dressing each lid. “A jar of the strawberry preserves and a jar of the blackberry preserves you and I made.”

“Very nice. You must really want to impress them.” Foxy glanced out the window at the growing headlights. “Where’s your father?”

“He . . .” I paused when Charlotte started down the stairs. “He had some errands to run.” I told her the bold-faced lie, knowing Foxy wouldn’t believe it. Today was Sunday, and Pa never ran errands on Sundays. Last week he announced there wouldn’t be a service today due to the holiday, but it was just an excuse in my opinion. He’d been finding reasons to cancel services quite a bit lately.

Before Mama died, New Year’s Day was always the day Pa set aside to spend with her, mostly snuggled on the couch, saying he wanted to be doing just that for the rest of the year. Since her death, he’d continued spending New Year’s Day with her, but instead of snuggling, he hunched over her grave. I’d gone out to the cemetery earlier to encourage him to head back to the farm, but with a heavy fog overtaking him there was no getting through to him. Selfish as it was, I didn’t want to cancel my plans with Vance or ruin Charlotte’s plans. Miss Wise’s house had become a safe haven for my sister.

Foxy eyed me, her purple-glossed lips in a firm line. She knew something was up and was already putting up her defenses to stay away from it.

“Okay, then. So the rules for my night are . . .” I held a finger up for each. “Don’t act my age, break curfew, and what else?” I asked, wanting to lighten things up.

The firm line curled into a grin. “Oh, honey. Dressed like that, I expect you to let that good-looking fella steal a few kisses.” Foxy winked again, and all was well, except for the flutters seizing my belly at her suggestion.