Page 110 of Embracing the Change

“Fortunately,” I waxed on, “she and I did some exploration in my closet, and we found she fits in my Chloe Woody bag, and she can stick her head out of the top. I just need to get a little pillow sewn to put in the bottom so she’s comfortable in there.”

Dru, sitting across from me, laughed softly.

Jamie, seated across the space on the bench of the grand piano, legs spread, elbows on his knees, looking delectable, chuckled.

Both my children (and daughter-in-law) kept staring me.

Archie was still grinning.

Yes, it was Sunday.

Yes, it was time for family lunch.

Yes, I loved Dru’s laughter, my children’s usual horror at my very existence and everything I did with it, and Jamie looking so handsome in his lightweight gray sweater and medium-wash jeans, an outfit he took from our closet where his wardrobe was now situated.

I loved all of this so much, I decided to have a family Sunday luncheon at least once a month.

Jaclyn could have Thanksgiving and Christmas.

I would have this.

“You can’t take a cat on the town like you can carry around a dog, Mom,” Valentina proclaimed, going to plop down in the armchair next to Dru.

“I can do anything I like,” I retorted.

“It’s not good for the cat,” Felice shared dourly as she moved to sit across from me on the sofa.

I looked to her. “Dearest, she was in a cage three days ago.” I swept a hand toward Heiress—who, on Thursday afternoon, had taken precisely five seconds to recognize she’d finally found her true home—currently had her little nose in the air and was pre-nap blinking. “Now she’s lying on a bejeweled cat bed. She’s not dim. She knows precisely how good she has it, including picking the Chloe, which goes with her coloring, over the Fendi, which did not.”

Felice aimed a long-suffering gaze at her husband in response to my pitifully bourgeoisie ways.

Per the protocol I’d created after I’d come to understand my son was serious about her, I ignored her.

Felice’s attention wandered, and she noted, “That’s a new piece,” toward the glass sculpture on the plinth across the room.

“Dad and Nora found that at a vintage store last night,” Dru announced.

I watched Felice’s eyes widen at the news I’d entered a vintage store, then her face blanked, not only as if she couldn’t process this knowledge and make sense of it, but she had no desire to try.

“It’s a Seguso,” Dru continued. “Gemma and Jadyn were thrilled Nora bought it. They were worried they wouldn’t be able to move it. It’s not exactly at a price point they’re used to stocking.”

If the smirk that was now on her face was any indication, Felice appeared to be able to process that without any problems.

Dru also went to the opening last night. She’d come with some friends. And she’d talked me into buying the Seguso.

Because Drusilla Lynch had very good taste.

Alyona strolled in at that moment and put a tray of mini crabcakes and quiches down on the coffee table, announcing, “Some munchies.”

Only Alyona, who had labored over complicated hors d’oeuvres, like crabcakes and quiches (at least I thought they seemed complicated, I would have no way of truly knowing), would describe them as “munchies.”

“You’re working on Sunday, Alyona?” Felice asked in horror.

Hmm.

No.

I shot a warning look to my son.

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