mustn't. Not after he's finally forgiven you for taking your stepfather's name. And a WASPy name, at that."
"Forgiven my mother, you mean!" she cried, her voice rising slightly. "She was the one who changed my name to Thomas, not I, when I was seven and not old enough to understand or protest."
"I know she did," I murmured, walking to the far side of the smaller table, which I now began to set for the children.
Sarah took a long swallow of her coffee, then put the mug down. After taking off her sunglasses, she placed her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. Her dark brown velvety eyes followed me as I moved about.
"How many are we going to be for lunch, Mal?" she asked.
"About eighteen. I think. Let's see, there's my mother and Diana, you and the twins and Jenny, plus me and Andrew, which makes eight. I've invited Nora, Eric, and Anna, bringing us up to eleven. Then there're three couples, the Lowdens, the Martins, and the Callens, making seventeen, and two more kids. Vanessa, the Callens' little girl, and Dick and Olivia Martin are bringing their young son, Luke. So I guess that makes nineteen altogether."
"All I can say is, thank God we don't have to do the cooking."
I laughed at the expression on her face. "I know what you mean. Luckily, Andrew has everything under control, and he's roped in all the men to do the barbecuing. Nora and my mother and Diana will help me to fetch and carry."
"I'm hoping I'll feel better by lunchtime, that I'll be able to pitch in."
"It's not necessary, Sash. Just relax. And in any case, I'm setting up a buffet table here. It'll hold most of the other food, such as the salads, the breads, the baked beans, baked potatoes, and corn. It's only the hot dogs, hamburgers, and chops that'll have to be brought over from the barbecues on the kitchen patio."
Sarah nodded but didn't say anything for a few minutes. She sat staring into space with a reflective expression on her face. Eventually, she said slowly, "Your mother looks like the cat that's swallowed the canary this morning."
"What do you mean?"
"Her eyes are bright and shiny, and she did nothing but smile at me when I was having my toast. And I couldn't help thinking that it was a very self-satisfied smile. Even a bit smug."
"I guess I can tell you," I began, and then I hesitated.
"Sure you can, you've been telling me everything since the day you could talk."
"It's supposed to be a secret."
"So what, you've always told me your secrets, Mal. Yours and everybody else's, actually."
"Well, so have you too!" I shot back.
"I bet it's to do with a man." Sarah grinned at me and winked.
"I'm impressed. How did you guess?"
She burst out laughing. "She has that look. The look, the one that says, 'I have a man and he's all mine.' A guy might not recognize it, but every woman does."
"My mother's getting married."
"Golly gee whiz! You've got to be kidding!"
"No, I'm not."
"Good for Auntie Jess. Who's the man?"
"David Nelson. I think you've met him once or twice when he's been at my mother's."
Sarah let out a low whistle. "He's quite a catch, I'd say. Very good-looking and successful, and younger than her."
"Are you sure he's younger?"
"Yes, I am. My mother said something to me a few months ago about Aunt Jess and David, and she mentioned he was about fifty-eight."
"Oh, only four years, that's not much. Anyway, my mother looks a lot younger than he, don't you think?"
"Yes, she does."
"I can't imagine why she wants to get another face job, though. She doesn't need it, in my opinion."
If Sarah was startled by my comment, she did not show it. She said, "No, she doesn't, but she may feel insecure, worried about her age. That's the way my mother is now that she's turned sixty, always attempting to look younger. A lot of women think that's a milestone, I guess."
I shrugged. "Maybe. On the other hand, sixty's not old. In fact, it's considered young these days. This morning, when my mother mentioned she wanted to have a
"Forgiven my mother, you mean!" she cried, her voice rising slightly. "She was the one who changed my name to Thomas, not I, when I was seven and not old enough to understand or protest."
"I know she did," I murmured, walking to the far side of the smaller table, which I now began to set for the children.
Sarah took a long swallow of her coffee, then put the mug down. After taking off her sunglasses, she placed her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. Her dark brown velvety eyes followed me as I moved about.
"How many are we going to be for lunch, Mal?" she asked.
"About eighteen. I think. Let's see, there's my mother and Diana, you and the twins and Jenny, plus me and Andrew, which makes eight. I've invited Nora, Eric, and Anna, bringing us up to eleven. Then there're three couples, the Lowdens, the Martins, and the Callens, making seventeen, and two more kids. Vanessa, the Callens' little girl, and Dick and Olivia Martin are bringing their young son, Luke. So I guess that makes nineteen altogether."
"All I can say is, thank God we don't have to do the cooking."
I laughed at the expression on her face. "I know what you mean. Luckily, Andrew has everything under control, and he's roped in all the men to do the barbecuing. Nora and my mother and Diana will help me to fetch and carry."
"I'm hoping I'll feel better by lunchtime, that I'll be able to pitch in."
"It's not necessary, Sash. Just relax. And in any case, I'm setting up a buffet table here. It'll hold most of the other food, such as the salads, the breads, the baked beans, baked potatoes, and corn. It's only the hot dogs, hamburgers, and chops that'll have to be brought over from the barbecues on the kitchen patio."
Sarah nodded but didn't say anything for a few minutes. She sat staring into space with a reflective expression on her face. Eventually, she said slowly, "Your mother looks like the cat that's swallowed the canary this morning."
"What do you mean?"
"Her eyes are bright and shiny, and she did nothing but smile at me when I was having my toast. And I couldn't help thinking that it was a very self-satisfied smile. Even a bit smug."
"I guess I can tell you," I began, and then I hesitated.
"Sure you can, you've been telling me everything since the day you could talk."
"It's supposed to be a secret."
"So what, you've always told me your secrets, Mal. Yours and everybody else's, actually."
"Well, so have you too!" I shot back.
"I bet it's to do with a man." Sarah grinned at me and winked.
"I'm impressed. How did you guess?"
She burst out laughing. "She has that look. The look, the one that says, 'I have a man and he's all mine.' A guy might not recognize it, but every woman does."
"My mother's getting married."
"Golly gee whiz! You've got to be kidding!"
"No, I'm not."
"Good for Auntie Jess. Who's the man?"
"David Nelson. I think you've met him once or twice when he's been at my mother's."
Sarah let out a low whistle. "He's quite a catch, I'd say. Very good-looking and successful, and younger than her."
"Are you sure he's younger?"
"Yes, I am. My mother said something to me a few months ago about Aunt Jess and David, and she mentioned he was about fifty-eight."
"Oh, only four years, that's not much. Anyway, my mother looks a lot younger than he, don't you think?"
"Yes, she does."
"I can't imagine why she wants to get another face job, though. She doesn't need it, in my opinion."
If Sarah was startled by my comment, she did not show it. She said, "No, she doesn't, but she may feel insecure, worried about her age. That's the way my mother is now that she's turned sixty, always attempting to look younger. A lot of women think that's a milestone, I guess."
I shrugged. "Maybe. On the other hand, sixty's not old. In fact, it's considered young these days. This morning, when my mother mentioned she wanted to have a
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