My mouth falls open in shock. She knows that’s not the case at all.

The fact that this waiting for grandchildren had to do with years of fertility issues for Rachel and Adam means nothing to Mom. The fact that she knows I wanted kids and the Fates are now laughing at me means nothing to her. The slow burn of anger evaporates the droplets of sympathy I felt a moment earlier. Someday, maybe, I’ll get used to my mother’s stealth attacks. Today is not that day.

“Guess who I saw the other day?” I ask, and yes, I’m being petty.

“Whom? Whom did you see, Jenny?”

“Dorothy.”

For three seconds, there’s silence. “Who’s Dorothy?” she asks. Ha. She knows exactly who Dorothy is.

“She worked for Dad for a little while.”

“Did she? Hmm. I don’t remember.” Her voice is haughty now.

“She was a single mom. We gave her some hand-me-downs, Rachel and I.”

“If you say so. Can I come over or not?”

I hear a car door open on the street and look out the window. Uh-oh. It’s Rachel, back a day early. “Mom, someone just pulled up. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Then, feeling guilty, I add, “Love you!” I hang up. “Girls! Mommy’s here! Look out the window!”

“Mommy! Mommy’s back! Mommy!” The girls run to the window and bang on it with their little fists. My sister looks up and her face breaks into a huge smile. She waves with both hands and blows kisses, then gets a few bags from her car.

“Come, Auntie!” Grace orders. “Mommy’s here!”

When Rachel walks in, the girls launch themselves at her, and I can’t help feeling a little ditched. For two days, they were mine to cuddle, soothe, read to and adore. Well, it’s almost dinnertime. Maybe I’ll convince Rachel to let them stay over one more night.

“Were you well behaved for Auntie?” Rachel asks, kissing them over and over.

“Yes!” Rose announces. “So behaved!”

“They were excellent,” I say. “Such good company!”

The girls chorus to tell Rachel every exciting minute she missed. “Mommy, we ate canpakes!” “Mommy, we sleeped in Auntie’s bed!” “Mommy, I peed by myself!” “We sang songs!” “Auntie’s friend told us a song about us!” “He made a pink dog!”

“Leo came up to help when things got a little noisy,” I explain. Saying his name makes my insides squeeze.

“Did he,” Rachel murmurs, lifting an eyebrow. She turns her attention back to the girls. “I brought presents,” she says, and the girls attack the shopping bags.

We make supper—Rachel is so much better at commandeering her daughters than I am—and then give them baths, read stories. They’ll stay over one more night, Rachel says, and I’m so happy. We haven’t had a sleepover for a long time, since Adam took a business trip two years ago.

I wonder if he cheated then, too.

Because I know Rachel has missed her daughters, I go downstairs while she tucks them in. I can hear her singing their favorite songs and a flutter of laughter as they say something adorable, no doubt.

If I ever get to be a mom, I hope I’m just like her. The yawning hole of want never fails to take me by surprise.

But maybe...just maybe...I can start thinking of little curly-haired children with musical ability and amazing smiles.

When Rachel comes, I pour us each a glass of wine. The rain has stopped for now, though the clouds are still thick. I turn on a kitchen light, flooding the room in amber light. “So. I didn’t expect you back till tomorrow,” I say.

Rachel sighs. “I got too lonely. I tried to stay. Went to the Cloisters today and had a nice lunch but the truth is, I just wanted to be back here.”

“Did Adam call?”

She nods. “He emailed and texted. I didn’t answer.”

“And?”

“He keeps saying he knows it looked damning, but he’s not back with her.”

“Do you believe him?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Would you?”

Are you even kidding? I don’t answer.

She looks up. “Go ahead. Say what’s on your mind.”

I blow my bangs off my forehead. “Okay. Well, you gave him another chance. He was kissing that slut, which doesn’t exactly fall under the purview of being a better man, does it? And if it walks like a duck and sounds like a duck...”

She plays with the stem of her wineglass. “I had dinner with a man last night.”

My mouth drops open. “Did you?”

“Yep. Remember Gus Fletcher from my old job?”

I visited Rachel at work from time to time when she was at Celery Stalk. “Um...smiley eyes?”

“Yes. Him.”

“I remember him as being very nice.”

“Yes. He is. It was good to see him.” The tears that have been making her eyes shiny slip out. “Except it was like I was pretending to be someone else. I don’t know anything anymore, Jenny. I don’t even know who I am. Last night was like a fake me, all dressed up, going out with a nice man, this haircut...and the truth is, I’d have rather been home. I’m not meant for hotels and restaurants, and we saw Robert De Niro, did I tell you that? We sat right next to him, and that’s just not me!” She glances toward the living room and bites down on a sob.

“Rach, honey,” I tell her. “You’ve been gone for two days. It’s called escaping. Taking a break. That’s allowed. That’s even encouraged.” I pause. “You just had dinner?”