“Mother! I'm so glad to see you!" Jane said, embracing the older woman. Now that Cecily was actually here, it was true. Cecily carried with her anenveloping air of competence. People in her presence sensed that nothing could go wrong that she couldn't cope with. It was very comforting, even when nothing was wrong.

Cecily held her daughter at arm's length, appraisingly. "Jane, you look wonderful. Your hair's longer. It's very flattering!"

“You look terrific, too." Cecily always looked great. She had naturally curly hair that she kept short and fluffy. She never had it set and had let it go gray so that she didn't have to worry about having roots touched up in odd corners of the globe where such amenities might not be available. Her figure was still slim and faintly athletic. She used no makeup but lipstick, and—thanks to an expert plastic surgeon in London whom she visited at regular five-year intervals—she had no unsightly wrinkles or sags in her face or neck. Every time she saw her mother, Jane found herself offering up silent prayers that she would hold up against age as well as Cecily. Unfortunately, Jane's genes didn't run to curls, nor her budget to cosmetic surgery.

“I wish you'd let me pick you up at the airport," Jane said, taking the one suitcase into the house.

“Oh, Jane, you know I just get shoved onto whatever plane has an empty spot. I'd feel awful if I thought you were camped out at a dreary old airport waiting for me. How are the children? Is Todd enjoying his trip with his other grandmother?" She said it brightly, but there was the slightest hint of jealousy. A tiny chink in the perfect armor, Jane was glad to realize.