“The usual suspects. Fred’s sister and her husband and kids, and his parents. Her twins destroy my house. You’re lucky yours are civilized and grown up.”

“Believe me, I miss the stage you’re at with yours,” Annie said nostalgically, with a wistful tone in her voice.

“You just don’t remember what it was like. God save me from teenage boys.” Whitney sounded rueful, and they laughed. “I’ll come in for lunch next week. And I want you to think about New Year’s Eve. He’s a great guy.”

“I’m sure he is. I just don’t have time.” Or the desire to meet another one of Fred’s dreary friends. They just weren’t fun, and there was no reason to think that this one would be any different. They never were. If she was going to fall for a man, Annie wanted it to be someone great. Otherwise, why bother? She had decided years before that she’d rather sit home alone than go out with a dud, just for the sake of going out. And everyone tried too hard on New Year’s Eve and drank too much, including Fred. Whitney thought he walked on water, which was nice. Annie’s role models for relationships were her late sister and brother-in-law, who had been madly in love until the end. She didn’t want less than that for herself or even for their kids. She had talked about them a lot to their children over the years, and there were photos of Jane and Bill everywhere. She had kept their memory alive for all of them.

Annie got up to go check on the turkey, and Ted wandered in a few minutes later in pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, looking like an overgrown boy. At twenty-four, he was a handsome man, like his father. And when she checked, the turkey was looking good and turning brown.

“Do you need help?” Ted offered, as he poured himself a glass of orange juice and handed one to his aunt.

“I think I’m fine. You can help me carve.”

“That’s good. It’s great being here. I get tired of living with three guys at my apartment. They’re all such slobs.”