of friends and should not cultivate relationships beyond that. But that was ridiculous! And so, “Hey, Gregory,” I said. “Would you and Raymond ever like to come to my house for dinner?”
“Ever? Is this a tentative invitation?” He whispered this last.
“No. It’s a definite invitation.”
“What night?” He began unwinding one of the bolts of fabric. “How much?”
“Three yards of each. And . . . I don’t know. Any night.”
“How’s tonight? Because I know we couldn’t do it otherwise for a couple of weeks. We’re very popular, as you can imagine.”
“I can.”
He looked over the top of his glasses at me. “You’re so easy. Actually, it’s that we’re going on vacation tomorrow. Two weeks in San Francisco, and I can’t wait.”
“Tonight? . . . Well, sure, why not? I have to warn you, though, my mother is staying with us.”
He folded up the fabric he’d cut for me, leaned forward to say, “She’ll love me.”
“I’m not worried about that part.”
“I’m sure I’ll love her too.”
I said nothing. Finally, he laughed and said, “Oh, so what?”
“Seven o’clock?” I said and he nodded, then rolled his eyes as he heard himself paged. “I hate it when you’re at work and they make you work!” he said. “It’s so unfair!”
AT FOUR O’CLOCK, I CALLED MAGGIE and asked her if she and Doug wanted to come to dinner as well. “Can’t,” she said. “We’re already going out—with Doug’s boss. I have to wear nylons and everything.”
“Sorry.”
“Has to be done.”
“So tell me,” I said. “If I use my mother-in-law’s red sauce, do I have to confess it’s not mine?”
“Who’ll ask?”
“Gregory will. I can feel it in my bones.”
“What’s so wrong with saying it’s not yours?”
“I don’t know. I feel like if you invite people to dinner, you should make it yourself.”
“That was in the olden days.”
“Okay. Thanks for the reality check.” I hung up and the phone rang immediately. It was Caroline.
“Hey,” I said. “How are you doing?” I looked at the clock on the kitchen wall; I had to get busy on the lasagna. I should have let the machine pick up.
“I’m okay,” she said. And waited.
I waited too, then finally asked, “So . . . things are going well?” I could hear the tension in my voice; I hoped she could not.
“Have you . . . do you know when she’s coming home?”
“Mom?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t. Soon, I would expect. I think she just felt like she needed to have people around her for a while. Why?”
“Oh, just—”
“Are you thinking you need to . . . do something with her?”
“I’m thinking I need to spend some time with her, yes.”
“I don’t know, Caroline. She hasn’t said much about when she’s going back. Listen, I’m sorry, but this is a really bad time. I’m having company for dinner, and—”
“Oh! Why didn’t you say so? Never mind.”
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Look, I’m sorry, I just don’t have time right now.”
“Yes, I know. You told me. I heard.” She hung up.
I stood for a while with the receiver in my hand, then put it back in the cradle. Not this time, I was thinking.
I took out the things I needed from the refrigerator and began chopping onion and garlic. Maggie was wrong; I had to make my own sauce. The door burst open and Anthony came in, followed by Hannah and my mother. In a way, my mother had moved from being my mother to another one of the kids. I kind of liked her like this. “Where have you guys been?” I asked.
“We took Grandma to Sam Goody’s,” Hannah said. “She got us CDs.”
My mother leaned on the kitchen counter, watching me chop the onions. “What’s for dinner?”
“Lasagna,” I said. “We’re having guests.”
“Who?” Hannah asked, and when I told her, she wailed, “Nooo! I can’t be here! I have to babysit!”
I’d forgotten, but I didn’t want to admit this, so I said, “Well, there’ll be another time.”
“How do you know? You’ve never had Gregory here!”
“There will be,” I said. And then, as the phone rang yet again, “Answer that, will you?”
Hannah picked up the phone, listened, and then said, “Oh, hi, I’m so happy you’re coming!” Then, listening more, she said, “Oh, no! Really? Well, tell him he’ll get better if he comes here!”
I wiped my hands on a dish towel and reached out for the phone. “Here’s my mom,” Hannah said. She grabbed her CDs and ran toward the stairs and her room.
“Who’s Gregory?” I heard my mother ask Anthony at the same time that Gregory told me, “I’m