LITMIR.BIZ

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Her vanity had to have a limit, and being jealous of the future version of a three-year-old had to be that limit.

      “Hey, sweetie.” Emily hugged Mia.

      “Mommy, is that a man or a lady?” Mia asked, her plump finger to her lips.

      “I’m so sorry about her,” Christina said, balancing Mia on her hip. “She’s starting to figure out the difference between boys and girls and she’s having a little trouble with it.”

      “No, I’m not,” Mia protested.

      “It’s okay,” Emily said. “She’s hasn’t actually seen me in person since she was tiny... I’ve been a pretty bad aunt.”

      “Nonsense. You do you.” She leaned in to kiss Emily’s cheek. Christina had changed her hair since she last saw her. It was blonder, straight and parted down the middle, stopping right above her shoulders. Christina had delicate, girlish features that always looked feminine and youthful even though her skin was freckled and lightly lined from years of tanning to a deep brown during her teenage summers in East Hampton. She seemed like the type of woman who would go for Botox, but her insistence on self-love and acceptance probably prevented her.

      “I love your dress,” Christina said. Emily knew she didn’t really mean it. If she saw it in a store, she’d say it was cheap.

      “Oh, thanks. It’s probably all sweaty now. I should change.”

      “It is what it is. Never doubt yourself. You are a goddess. Just like me, and just like Mia. Every woman is a goddess. Aren’t you a goddess, Mia?”

      “No, I’m a princess. I’m Elsa.”

      “Are you coming to the barbecue at David’s house?” Emily asked.

      “Of course. I’m sure Jason will be a p-r-i-c-k about it, but then again, when is he not?”

      “Yeah.” Emily laughed a little. “I love your nail polish, by the way.”

      “Oh, thanks. It’s one of those shellac manicures.” It was clear and neutral, matching her flowing ivory silk top and gray skinny jeans. Such a simple manicure easily could have been done at home, but Christina usually chose the priciest option for anything. Even her toilet paper was organic. Everything about Christina was refined and subtle, expensive and tasteful. She came from Greenwich old money, and, as a result, had grace that Emily would never have, even if she became insanely rich overnight. On top of her family money, Christina worked at a New York ad agency and presumably was paid well there. Emily sometimes wondered if Jason had to pay alimony, or if Christina did, but she was afraid to ask. They both acted as though the divorce settlement was horribly unfair. No matter which one of them she spoke to, the story was one of gross injustice.

      “So are you...dating?” Emily tried to get a feel for whether or not that question would offend Christina. But she didn’t know what else to ask.

      “Not in front of Mia,” she whispered. “But...yes. I’m surprised at how well it’s going. I am prouder and prouder of my decision every day.” She pressed Mia’s head to her chest and put another hand over her ear. “Between you and me, the only reason I’m fine with him having partial custody is that at least I have the occasional weekend to get a pedicure and go on a date. I honestly think he’s a horrible father.”

      Emily wasn’t sure what to say. “Anyway, we’re going to the barbecue in a few hours. Come inside and we’ll get you some coffee. Ariel is there in case Mia wants someone to play with.”

      Christina turned to Mia. “Mia, are you excited to see your cousin? Gosh, it’s been too long! I don’t think she remembers meeting him.”

      “Just a warning,” Emily said. “If she’s having trouble telling boys from girls, she’s going to have a lot of trouble with him.”

      * * *

      David’s childhood home looked like a modern, more expensive version of a log cabin. In front there was a wraparound wooden deck, an expanse of freshly cut grass and a tire swing hanging from an old maple tree. A well-worn wooden playhouse, painted red like a miniature barn, still stood out on the lawn. David’s father had built it when he and his brother were little and later converted it into a shed for his tools. Nick was the type of manly-man father that Emily only saw on television. He had worked for years in risk arbitrage and was now retired. He was in his late fifties, and despite being able to afford to hire people to fix things around his home, he took pleasure in home improvement: building decks, fixing pipes, woodworking.

      “Hello!” he called from the front door. Emily always marveled at how excited David seemed to see his father: no deep breathing to prepare, no nervous fidgeting, no anticipation of attacks, no deployment of prearranged conversational shutdowns. Nick gave David a long, effusive hug, as if it had been years since they last saw each other. Nick and his wife, Susan, had visited San Francisco just a few months earlier, and a similar hug had occurred then.

      “Emily,” Nick said, reaching out to hug her. He had a strong jaw like David’s, the same blue eyes. He had a receding hairline, short brown hair sprinkled with gray, and freckles on his nose. Sometimes when Emily looked at Nick, she wondered if he was what David would grow up to be. She could do a lot worse.

      “Emily, sweetheart!” David’s stepmother, Susan, bounced over and hugged her. She was barely five feet, so Emily had to bend down. Susan had met Nick on eHarmony two years earlier. She had been living in Idaho, so they had a long-distance relationship for a year before she moved to Connecticut to marry him. She was plump with dyed blonde hair and hazel eyes. She liked to wear festive earrings that matched the season. Today she was wearing tiny dangling watermelons.

      “Susan!” Emily said, giving her a hug. “You smell awesome, what is that?”

      “You’ll laugh,” said Susan. “I went shopping with Maddyson and bought the latest Britney Spears perfume. I was worried she’d laugh at me for trying too hard, but apparently ‘only older people like Britney Spears’ anyway.”

      “That’s crazy. I still love Britney Spears!”

      “Well, Maddyson is eighteen so she thinks everyone is old. So how are things in San Francisco? See any great shows?”

      Susan had very limited experience with big cities, other than the few times she and Nick had ventured into Manhattan to see the Rockettes or The Lion King. When they’d visited David in San Francisco, she had insisted on riding the cable cars everywhere.

      “I don’t really go to live shows very much,” Emily said. “You mean music, right?”

      “Any show!” Susan laughed. “You are so lucky. Young and in a big city!”

      Steven and Marla approached. Emily tensed. Her parents had met Nick and Susan before, right after she and David got engaged. Emily had delayed that encounter as long as possible because she had a palpable fear that her parents would alienate Nick and Susan so much that they would advise David to break up with her. Once they got engaged, she felt a little more secure, and finally told her parents that David’s parents lived close enough for them to meet up. Luckily for her, Marla and Steven only saw Susan and Nick for lunch once at a Mexican place called Cha Cha Cha Sombrero. Marla and Steven didn’t make much of an effort to see them after that, despite Susan occasionally sending them invites to events they would obviously hate, like the Fairfield Pumpkin and Gourd Festival. Emily imagined the scene at the Mexican restaurant: Marla declining to order anything from the menu, instead producing a plum and a yogurt from her bag while regaling Nick and Susan with an exhaustive list of the anti-anxiety medications Emily was prescribed in high school. After the lunch, Marla called Emily to tell her that Nick and Susan were “nice people,” which Emily knew was the real kiss of death for Marla. Later, Marla complained over the phone to Emily about a mass e-card Susan had sent her for Easter, featuring pastel cartoon rabbits somehow hatching out of eggs, which she found offensive because “she should know we don’t celebrate that.”

      “Well, if it isn’t the most brilliant woman in the tri-state area!” Susan

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