F COURSE, THE NEXT DAY, I was wracked with guilt. Had I been, perhaps, a teeny bit hard on Sam? One of us Barnes girls already had the role of harpy-shrew…if nothing else, I was the nice sister. Granted, I had been mad, but that last thing I’d said, about not being my brother-in-law anymore…ooh, yes, I had indeed been too harsh. Wicked harsh.

I remembered when I’d come home from college for Sam’s graduation from the police academy. I had been trying to look uncaring and French, wearing the all-black uniform and heavy eyeliner that we college students imagined was a statement of intellect and cynicism. When Sam, dressed in his uniform for the first time, had come over to me, I’d said something stupid like, “Well, I guess the world’s a safer place now.” And he’d just smiled down at me, ignoring my pissy attitude, and answered, “I’ll always look out for you, Millie.”

That memory had me grabbing the phone. His machine picked up. “Sam, hi…um, I guess I maybe overreacted a little bit yesterday, kind of bit your head off a little…oh, Sam, I’m really sorry. Please forgive me. Pretty please.” I started to hang up, then thought better of it. “It’s Millie, by the way. Call me. I’m at the clinic. Bye.”

He didn’t call me back and by the time I got home, I fretted about, tidying up, brushing my dog. The air was hot and dry, and I didn’t feel like a run. It was Friday, and at this moment, I had no weekend plans…. Joe and I were not at the point yet where we automatically did everything together. Joe. The thought of him brought an automatic, if not quite heartfelt, smile to my face. Things were going great, completely in accordance with the plan. As Katie had noticed the other night, he really did seem eager to be with me, something definitely different from what I had observed over the years.

And yet there was something missing, though what it was remained unclear. As I folded my meager load of laundry, I wondered if I would ever confess all my stalking and plotting to Joe. No, probably not. I had made a jerk out of myself far too many times over him, and the fact that he remained unaware of this was a definite plus.

Joe and I had fun together—he was mellow and sweet—but what was lacking, exactly? Maybe it was that I didn’t know him any better now than I had five years ago. Maybe it was that our relationship seemed to consist of hanging out and sex…nothing deeper. Not yet, anyway. Where was that hidden side of Joe, that heroic, helpful, humble part that I’d seen so many times? That was the Joe I really loved.

It’s only been a couple of weeks, I told myself. Sensing my gloomy state of mind, Digger came over and stared at me adoringly, his whip-like tail slicing the air. He nudged my thigh with his nose until I relented and petted him.

“You’re such a good pup,” I said. “What do you think about Joe? Huh, Digger? He’s a good doggy, isn’t he?” Digger seemed to agree.

Once again, I glanced at the phone. Why hadn’t Sam called me? He must be furious, I thought, mentally cringing. Making Sam angry—or hurting his feelings—caused acid to churn in my stomach.

“I think Sam should call me, don’t you?” I asked Digger. I swear he nodded.

I flopped onto the couch. Laundry folded, house clean. Looked like I was on my own tonight. Rubbing Digger’s tummy with my foot, I considered my options. Cook? Nah. Eat out? Nah. Not on a Friday night on Fourth of July weekend on the Cape. What was Sam doing? Had he gotten my message yet?

At that very moment, the phone rang. “Be Sam!” I commanded before picking up. “Hello?”

“Aunt Millie, it’s Danny,” my nephew stated needlessly.

“Hi, honey,” I said.

“Can you come over? Right now?”

“What’s the matter?” I demanded, fear shooting through me.

“Everything’s okay…I just need some help, and my dad’s not here.”

“Are you hurt?” I thought I heard a strangled cough.

“No, no, Aunt Mil. I’m fine.” Something thumped in the background. “I just need you to come over real quick. It’s not something for the phone. Can you come?”

“Of course, Danny. I’m on my way.”

What could be the problem? I wondered as I zipped down Route 6. He had definitely sounded odd. Something with Trish? I neatly passed a lumbering New York Hummer that took up a lane and a half and flew down to the rotary and onto Bridge Road. Turning onto Danny’s street, I glanced at the house. Didn’t look like anyone was home. I yanked up the emergency brake, ran up the steps and opened the front door.

“Danny?” I called.

“Surprise!”

I leaped back in terror, my bladder loosening dangerously, my heart rising to my throat, hands fluttering protectively in front of me. Oh, Christ! It was—

“Happy birthday to you,” someone began, and then everybody joined it. My face burned and I slumped against the door.

Jesus. A surprise party. For me!

There were my parents, singing away, right at the front of the crowd. Danny, the deceitful nephew. Katie. Her boys. Her parents. Oh, Lord, there was Joe! And Jill and Mr. Doyle and Sienna and even Dr. Bala with a stunning woman whose exotic beauty marked her as his wife. Dr. Whitaker smiled and nodded hello. The Robinsons, my parents’ next-door neighbors and lifelong friends. A woman I didn’t know, curly blondish hair, smiling eyes. Ethel, Sam’s obscenity-spewing, chain-smoking partner. There was Sarah, Danny’s girlfriend. Oh God, Janette, my best friend from residency, all the way from Bean Town, and her longtime boyfriend, Zach. Chris from the Barnacle. Curtis and Mitch! Hooray!

And Sam.

Sam was hosting my surprise thirtieth birthday party at his house, the day after I’d torn him a new…

The song finished and everybody clapped and laughed at me, and then I was surrounded by hugging, giggling, babbling people.

“We got you good, Aunt Mil!” Danny exclaimed triumphantly.

Joe came over and planted a big kiss on my mouth. “Happy birthday, Millie! Surprise!”

I squeezed his hand. “Joe…I’m—I—my God, you bad, bad people!” I said. I had to wipe my eyes, because apparently I was crying a little bit.

“You really didn’t suspect anything?” my mom asked, giving me a hug.

“Suspect—God, I had no…my birthday’s not till the end of next week…and…”

My dad lumbered over, Coors Light in hand. “Happy birthday, sweetie,” he said, giving me a hug that lifted me off my feet and squeezed the air out of my lungs. “Nancy, our little baby is thirty!” he bellowed at my mom.

“Oh, Daddy,” I wheezed happily, my ears ringing.

He set me down and kissed me loudly on the cheek. “Got a little present for you!” he crowed.

“Not now, Howard,” my mom instructed. They made way as Sam came over and kissed my cheek.

“Happy birthday, Millie,” he said a little awkwardly.

“Oh, Sam…can you just sneak in here with me for sec?” I asked. Abandoning my parents and Joe (I guessed my parents already knew we were dating or were about to find out), I took Sam’s arm and dragged him into the bathroom off the foyer. I flicked on the light and shut the door.

“Sam, I’m so sorry!” I said.

“No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I was so mean. I feel like crap.”

“Don’t, kiddo. You were right, I sort of crossed the line there.”

“No, no. It just hit a nerve, I guess.”

“I understand.” He shrugged a little.

“Are we okay, then?” I asked, the muffled booming of the guests and the stereo forcing me to raise my voice.

“Sure,” Sam answered, smiling.

“I can’t believe this party! My God, Sam! Thank you!” I smiled up at him, and he reached out and pinched my chin affectionately.

“Well, it was Katie’s idea, and your mom’s. I just offered the house and stuff.”

“I’ve never had a surprise party,” I said.

“Well, you’d better get out there and start enjoying it.” He paused, his eyes turning serious. “Millie—”

“Yes?”

“All those things you thought I meant about you and Joe…I wasn’t thinking them. If anything, I think Joe’s damn lucky. And he better deserve you. Okay?”

My eyes filled with tears. “Okay. And I’m sorry again. You know I love you, Sam.”

“Love you, too, kiddo.”

It suddenly seemed very still as we looked at each other, just inches apart in the small bathroom. Sam’s eyes were smoky-blue today, and his lips parted to say something. My breath caught for a second, then Sam seemed to change his mind. Reaching behind him, he opened the door. “After you, birthday girl,” he said.

The odd tension of the moment was forgotten as guests swarmed up to me, chatting merrily, laughing in the thrill of secrecy. Sam put an icy Corona in my hand and I smiled gratefully.

“How are you keeping, Millie?” Dr. Whitaker asked, peering at me through his horn-rimmed glasses.

“Very well, Dr. Whitaker,” I answered. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“You’re very welcome. And I think you should call me George, don’t you?” He gave me the smile that inspired so much trust in his patients, and I grinned back, delighted. “I’m looking forward to talking about our partnership this fall,” he continued.

Wanting to shout Yippee, I instead restrained myself and replied calmly, “As am I, sir.”

“Wonderful. Enjoy your party, my dear.”

Dozens of dishes swamped Sam’s kitchen counters, lasagna and green salad and pasta and lobster bisque so creamy and ethereally pink it could only have come from the Barnacle, quesadillas, buffalo wings (my favorite!), and a beautiful white cake with strawberries on top that must have been made by my mom.

I made my way back to the living room. Most people were in there or out on Sam’s huge deck, and for a minute I just soaked it all in, all these great people, throwing me a surprise birthday party. I couldn’t keep the goofy smile off my face.

Then the front door opened. “Where’s my baby sister?” called that unmistakable voice. “Oh, damn, Avery, we’re late!”

Ah, Trish. The queen of grand entrances. There she stood, wearing a black sleeveless knit dress that just cleared her ass, her long, tanned legs bare. Chunky diamond earrings. Hair gleaming like a crow’s wing. My guests grew still to watch, as Trish knew they would.

“Hi, Trish!” I called gamely.

“Millie!” she cried, swishing over to me in strappy high heels. “I’m so sorry we’re late! Oh, well, happy birthday! Hi, everyone!”

The adoring big sister was a new act, but I decided not to care and accepted her hug. “Thanks for coming.”

“Avery,” Trish said loudly, turning to the man behind her, “this is my little sister, Millie, the one I’ve told you so much about.”

The only one you’ve got, I thought. I had yet to meet the man she’d dumped Sam for. A generic-looking man stepped forward and offered me his hand.

“Avery Smith,” he announced.

This was the guy Trish had dumped Sam for? He was as bland as beige. Medium height, medium build, medium face, medium aged. The only notable thing about him was his choice in clothes—he wore a lime-green polo shirt and bright pink cotton pants.

“Hi,” I said, not shaking his hand. I just couldn’t, not in Sam’s own house. “Nice pants.”

He looked puzzled. I grinned.

“Sam!” Trish continued in cordial ex-wife mode. “Everything looks just great! How have you been?”

“Hi, Trish, good to see you,” Sam answered. He dutifully received the kiss she planted on his cheek to illustrate to Avery and everyone else that there were No Hard Feelings.

“And where’s Danny? Oh, hi, honey!” Now at least Trish seemed genuine, because her eyes teared up when she saw her son. “God, you’ve grown another inch, I think! And so handsome, just like your dad.”

Sam looked my way, and I rolled my eyes. He smiled back with a little shake of his head.

To Avery, Sam gave a stiff nod. My stomach clenched with discomfort…was this the first time Sam and Avery had met? Avery said something and Sam answered, then gestured to the kitchen. He watched Avery leave the room. His face was neutral, but I felt a sudden rush of anger. How could Trish bring her lover here, to what had been her home with Sam? Did she have any idea how that made him feel? She had to know that Sam would be classy about the whole thing, and it seemed like she was taking advantage of it.

I reminded myself not to judge. Sam and Trish were a mystery I didn’t understand, and, as Sam had pointed out to me, I had no firsthand experience of marriage or divorce. Trish was shaking hands with Dr. Whitaker, gave Jill a kiss and then hugged our parents, exclaiming over Mom’s outfit. She seemed cheerful and relaxed, completely at home, despite the fact that she had cheated on Cape Cod’s finest man.

“Hi. I’m Carol.”

I turned, grateful for the distraction, and saw the blond stranger I had glimpsed in the crowd earlier.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m Millie, and I’m thirty years old.”

“So I gathered. Happy birthday.”

She had kind brown eyes and a natural, clean beauty that was echoed by her simple, summery outfit of linen pants and silky pink shirt.

“So…do I know you?” I asked curiously.

“Well, actually, I’m more of Sam’s guest. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t get you a present.”

“I knew we’d be friends,” I grinned. “Sam’s guest, is it? Are you from around here?”

“No,” she replied, taking a sip of her Corona. “I’m from Connecticut. But my folks have a place up here that I’m using this summer.”

“That sounds nice. How did you meet Sam?”

“He pulled me over for speeding,” she said dryly.

My eyebrows rose. “Is this how you’re working off your fine? Because I think that might be illegal.”

Carol laughed. “No, no, I had to pay. But he called the next day and we chatted a while, and he asked if I’d like to come to your party.”

“Well, Carol, I’m very glad you did. Especially since you brought me a present.”

So Sam had asked someone out! I guess I shouldn’t have been so surprised. It was just weird, thinking of Sam with someone, especially a stranger. Picturing him with Katie was one thing, but this Carol person—

At that moment, Joe walked up. “How’s my birthday girl?” he asked, looping a casual arm around my shoulders.

“Great,” I answered, “now that the shock has receded. Joe, this is Carol, a friend of Sam’s.”

“Joe Carpenter,” he said, shaking her hand. “Hey, Millie, I didn’t know Trish Nickerson was your sister.”

I stared at him in surprise. “You—you didn’t?” Being Trish’s sister had pretty much defined my first eighteen years, and the fact that Joe was oblivious to this was stunning. Then again, Joe hadn’t made studying me his life’s work, as I had done with him.

“So Sam’s your brother-in-law, right?” Joe asked.

“Well,” I said, glancing at Carol, “no, not anymore.”

“Oh, that’s right. Okay. Well, I’m starving. You hungry, Millie?” Joe asked cheerfully.

“Sure,” I answered.

“I’ll get you a plate, then. Nice to meet you, Carol.”

“Nice guy,” Carol commented as we watched Joe’s lovely, jean-clad backside as he walked into the kitchen.

“As nice as they come,” I agreed.

“Pretty gorgeous, too.”

“Yes, ma’am.” We exchanged a grin of feminine appreciation.

The party progressed as most parties do, with my guests walking idly around, admiring the spectacular view from Sam’s deck, eating, chatting with each other. I had a nice long talk with Janette about her practice and the inner-city clinic where she volunteered, and we made plans to meet in Boston. Danny chastised me for not attending one of his softball games, a neglect I swore I would quickly amend. My mom buzzed around happily, urging people to eat more, and Sam and my dad had their heads together in the kitchen. I passed Curtis and Mitch, who were holding hands and murmuring to each other, smiling.

“Did you see Pink Pants?” I hissed.

“An unfortunate choice,” Mitch replied with a grin.

“You have such nice manners, young man,” I answered. “Please excuse me, for I, I must, um…”

“Powder your nose?” Mitch suggested.

“That works! It sounds so much better than ‘evacuate my bladder.’ Thank you.” I left them and went upstairs, as the downstairs loo was occupied. Someone was in the upstairs hall bathroom as well, so I went into the master bedroom.

As I passed through, my footsteps slowed. Gone were Trish’s jewelry boxes and perfume bottles that had once adorned the dresser. There were no scarves, no slippers, no earrings on the night table. The bed was made neatly, and on Sam’s bedside table were some reading glasses, a paperback novel and a picture of Danny. My heart tugged at the lonely picture his things evoked.

And how could Trish bear it? She had lost so much…a husband, day-to-day life with her son, a beautiful home, the comfort and security of marriage…and yet she was downstairs, playing star of the Trish Show yet again. Even though she wouldn’t admit it, it must be awful, being back here, outside of the circle that had once revolved around her.

Well, nature was calling my name, loudly, so I went into the master bathroom. As I was tugging up my pants, I heard a voice.

“This room’s got an incredible view,” said a male voice. “Jesus!”

They were in the bedroom. I paused, waiting to flush, hoping they’d quickly leave, feeling slightly embarrassed about being caught in the bathroom.

“The whole house has a great view,” answered a female voice. My eyes narrowed. Trish.

“What’s the market like?” asked the man, who must be Pink Pants.

“Fantastic. The house’s value has doubled in the past four years.”

“Well, it’s ridiculous that he won’t sell it,” Avery replied.

“He says he never will,” Trish answered.

“Too bad you couldn’t get Danny to go to Larchmont. If he’d moved out, you could have had your half in a month.”

“Well, I tried, Avery!” Trish snapped. “But Danny wanted to stay. He knows Eastham, he’s doing great in school, and really, there’s no reason for him to transfer. Besides, I think he feels sorry for his father and didn’t want to leave him.” I ground my teeth at her dismissal.

“I can’t believe you have to wait five years for your piece, Trish. This house is a goddamn gold mine!”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Avery. I wanted to get divorced fast. You wanted me to get divorced fast. Once Danny doesn’t live here anymore, I’ll get my share, okay? Can you drop it now, please?”

My heart was pounding, my face hot. So that’s why Trish had wanted Danny to transfer. She and Pink Pants wanted some cold hard cash. There was no further conversation for a few minutes, and I risked a peek. They were gone. I flushed, washed my hands, then walked over to the bed and sat down. My hands were shaking. Should I tell Sam, I wondered? Should I tell him that his ex-wife had tried to use their son to get some money?

Of course I wouldn’t tell him. It would be one thing if Danny was considering it, but he wasn’t. End of story. It still left a bad taste in my mouth.

Joe was looking for me when I came downstairs. “Hey, Millie,” he said. “Your mom wants you to open presents now.”

“Oh, goodie,” I said. He smiled at me and gave me a soft kiss. My insides squirmed…not from lust this time, but because my dad was watching.

“My father…” I murmured to Joe.

“Right.” He grinned and kissed my forehead chastely, and I smiled back.

Most of the guests were waiting in the living room, where a lovely pile of gifties sat on the coffee table. I loved my birthday in general, and this one was especially great…the party, the end of my educationally focused twenties, the feeling that the next decade would bring wonderful things…a practice, financial independence, a husband, children…security. Love.

My parents gave me the first present. Dad made a big show of leaving the room and coming back with…a bike! Feeling as if I were twelve again, I jumped up and down.

“Oh, Daddy, thanks! I love it!” The Cape was famous for the Cape Cod Rail Trail, formerly a railroad line that had been paved from Harwich to Provincetown. All year round, bicyclists came to the Cape to enjoy the gorgeous views and freedom from cars, and now, so could I. “Dad, thank you so much. Mom, this is the best!”

My parents beamed. “Your mother thought you were too old for a bike,” my dad said proudly. “But I knew my baby girl would like it.”

Curtis and Mitch gave me their trademark gift—a huge basket of skin-care goodies that smelled heavenly…almost as good as the stuff they used themselves. From Katie was a matted and framed photo of the two of us at age twelve, standing triumphantly on Doane Rock. Her boys had made me treasure boxes, little white cardboard containers that they’d reinforced with yards of masking tape and then painted. “For your stuff, Aunt Millie,” Mikey instructed me seriously. “You know, sand, rocks, stuff like that.”

Next, Sam handed me Ethel’s package, a slim, rectangular box.

“It’s a carton of Camels,” he whispered. “Unfiltered. She’ll keep it if you don’t want it.” I stifled a giggle and kicked him on the shin.

The gift was actually a very pretty, very feminine scarf. “Thank you, Ethel,” I said, somewhat surprised at the loveliness of her choice.

“Shit,” she barked, scratching her head vigorously. “It’s nothing.”

From Danny and Sam came dangling little earrings in the shape of sand stars. I remembered admiring them at a craft fair we had all gone to last fall, when Trish had just left, and the idea that Sam had somehow remembered this…well. I kissed both Danny and Sam, a lump in my throat.

And then came the gift from Joe…

I smiled into his soft green eyes, my earlier doubts about our relationship now seeming silly. Joe Carpenter was here, he adored me, we had been dating for three weeks, and he was giving me a present on my birthday. The very important first gift. With a mixture of trepidation and joy, I struggled with the packing tape that sealed the box.

“I made this,” Joe murmured with a quick grin, kneeling at my side. He broke the tape so I could open the box. What could it be, I wondered? A jewelry box, maybe? I pulled out a large, heavy object and unwrapped the newspaper that covered it.

It was a breathtakingly ugly lamp. Large, bulky, weighing at least ten pounds, it was encrusted with rocks and shells that Joe had apparently glued on and covered with polyurethane. On the wooden base was carved the words Cape Cod and a rough-hewn fish.

“Oooh,” I breathed in horror, holding up the lamp. Curtis gave a choked squeak and bolted from the room, his hand clamped over his mouth, while Mitch stared at the ceiling, blinking impassively.

“Do you like it?” Joe asked.

“Oh. Wow,” I answered, feeling my cheeks grow warm, unable to pry my gaze from the object in my hands. I dared not look at him, or Sam, or Katie, or my mother. But at the same time as a rush of hysterical laughter wriggled around in my stomach, my heart was sinking. There was no getting around the fact that it was the tackiest lamp I’d ever seen in my life. I wanted to love it, I really did. His beautiful hands had wrought it, after all, and obviously, he thought I would like it. Why, I couldn’t imagine.

Aware that some kind of response was required, I managed to say, “You made this, Joe?”

“Yup,” he answered. “I thought it would remind you of the Cape.”

“She doesn’t need reminding. She lives here,” Corey said with the logic of the young.

“Oh, yeah, I know…I mean…” Joe said.

“I love it,” I lied, finally snapping out of my shock. I forced a smile and kissed his cheek. “Joe, thank you. You’re so sweet.”

“It’s goddamn gorgeous,” Ethel growled.

Trish rolled her eyes. “This is from Avery and me,” she said, plopping a large, flat box into my lap and mercifully removing the lamp from my hands. It was a cocktail dress. Black, shimmery, expensive, gorgeous, one size too small and with a neckline that dipped toward my navel. Nothing, in short, that would ever leave my closet.

“Wow, Trish,” I said. “It’s, um, wow. Beautiful.”

“It’s Calvin Klein,” she said smugly.

“Yikes! Thank you. I’ve never owned anything like it,” I said, standing up and holding it in front of me.

“I know. I thought maybe you could use a little glamour in your life,” she answered, not unkindly.

“Um, thanks, Avery,” I said, my toes curling in discomfort at actually having to thank him. Still, Mother had raised me right.

“That will be gorgeous on you,” Mom said. “Joe, make sure you take her somewhere nice so she can wear that.”

“You bet, Mrs. Barnes,” Joe answered, smiling his heart-stopping smile.

A few hours later, we’d decimated my beautiful cake and the party had dwindled down to just a few of us. I said happy goodbyes to my friends and family and then went to help clean up a bit. Katie left, and then Danny and Sarah went to catch a movie, and finally, only six remained. In fact, just three couples: Joe and me, Sam and Carol, and Trish and Pink Pants. We sat out on the deck and watched the sky deepen and stars come out.

“Remember my thirtieth birthday, Sam?” Trish asked, giving him her thousand-watt smile.

“Uh, sure,” Sam answered. He began picking the label from his beer bottle.

“Sam took me on a surprise trip to the Caribbean,” Trish informed the others. “Remember, Millie?”

“Of course,” I said. “I came home from school to stay with Danny.”

“Oh, that’s right. Well, it was so romantic. Wasn’t it, Sam?”

Sam just looked at her. “I guess so,” he answered hesitantly. Avery said nothing, just stared off at the sunset, obviously bored.

Trish turned to Carol with a pleasant expression on her perfect face. Oh, beware, Carol. “So how long have you two been dating?” my sister asked.

“Actually, this is our first date,” Carol said, giving Sam a little grin.

“Really!”

“Mmm hmm.”

“How did you meet?” my sister asked.

“I was going forty-nine in a thirty-five-mile-an-hour zone,” Carol answered.

“Oh, how typical!” Trish fake-laughed. “Has he strip-searched you yet?”

“Trish!” I rebuked.

“Maybe on the second date,” Carol said calmly. Sam smiled.

“I can’t believe you two are sisters,” Joe said, apropos of nothing, but mercifully changing the subject.

“Why not, Joe?” Trish asked, turning her attention to him.

“I guess I didn’t know you had a sister, Millie,” Joe answered. Trish’s smile faded.

“Well, she’s much older than I am,” I murmured, earning a venomous glare from said sister. I smiled back.

“So how long have you and Joe been seeing each other, Millie?” Trish asked.

“Just a few weeks, I guess,” I answered cautiously.

“Really. And how did you hook up?” she asked.

“Huh, let’s see,” Joe said, taking my hand. “How exactly did it start, Millie? Seems like we’ve been together forever.” He smiled at me.

“Well, we’ve known each other since high school,” I answered.

“That’s right!” Joe exclaimed. “I wonder how come we didn’t hang out then.”

I closed my eyes with dread. Sure enough, Trish’s fake smile grew maliciously genuine. “Well, of course Millie looked a lot different in those days….” she began.

“Oh, yeah? I can’t seem to remember,” Joe answered. “I wonder how I missed you?”

“That’s a great question,” Trish answered. “Poor Millie was hard to miss, huh, Millie? You must have been fifty pounds heavier back then! And oh, God, remember those braces? And that perm? Oh, that was rich.” She laughed merrily at the memory of my horrible adolescence.

My face flushed as helpless anger rushed through me. Joe looked at me, surprised, and I felt a little flash of fury toward him, too. Did he have to set Trish up so perfectly? Carol politely looked out at the water, and Pink Pants stared at his drink.

“Well,” Sam said, rising and taking my empty beer bottle. “I always thought you were adorable. You’re a lucky man, Joe.” He gave me a grin, and I smiled gratefully back at him.

“I sure am,” Joe said, kissing my hand. Trish’s eyes narrowed, I noted with satisfaction. I didn’t have to be jealous of Trish’s high-school success when I had the two nicest guys around defending my honor.

“Avery, it’s time for us to go,” Trish announced, unfolding herself from the chair. “Sam, we’ll be back tomorrow to take Danny to brunch. And if he wants to come back with us to New Jersey for a visit, please don’t discourage him. Bye, Millie. Happy birthday.”