The fall was exceptionally busy for Sarah at work. She had three big estates to probate, worked on her house on weekends. It was an endless source of delight to her, and would be for years. She and Jeff went to auctions, and even put bids on furniture at Sotheby's and Christie's, in L.A. and New York. She had already acquired several pretty pieces. Jeff had bought a few, too. And in October, he gave up his apartment. He never used it. He moved his things in with her. He had an office and a study now, his dressing room and bathroom, and said he didn't mind living in a pink bedroom. He liked it. But most of all, he liked Sarah. He truly loved her, and she loved him.

He had settled the house and Paris apartment with Marie-Louise. The business was his now. All of her clients shifted their accounts to him. He hadn't heard from her since August, and much to his own surprise, didn't miss her. Even though they had spent fourteen years together, he always knew it was wrong for him. He had just kept investing himself in it. But now that he was with Sarah, he saw the difference. It was as though they were made for each other. He woke up every day, as she did, unable to believe his good fortune. He remembered his own grandfather's old saying that there was a pot for every lid, or a lid for every pot. Whichever it was, he had found it. The only one as amazed by it as he was, was Sarah, who was equally delighted with him.

As Sarah had promised she would, she made Thanksgiving dinner at her house that year. They had a couch and some chairs by then, a coffee table, and a beautiful antique desk in the living room. They actually had somewhere to sit and put down their drinks, when Mimi and George came to dinner. Mimi had asked her to invite her two best friends, as she herself usually did, so Sarah had included them, and a friend of Jeff's who was in town from New York and had nowhere to spend Thanksgiving. It was a comfortable, easy group, as the seven of them sat in the living room, while Sarah and Jeff took turns checking on the turkey. Sarah was terrified that it would either be raw, or she'd burn it. It wasn't the same without Audrey. But much to her own surprise, the dinner turned out well. Mimi said the blessing, and this year Jeff carved the turkey. He did a masterful job of it, and George said he was relieved not to have to do it.

He and Mimi had just come back from Palm Springs. Sarah noticed that they were spending more and more time there. They said they liked the weather better, and Mimi enjoyed his friends and the dinner parties they went to. She had just celebrated her eighty-third birthday, but didn't look it. She was as lively and beautiful as ever. George had become a permanent fixture, and was only slightly older than she.

Sarah was serving the mince, apple, and pumpkin pies they had every year at the end of the meal, while Jeff dished out the ice cream and whipped cream, when Mimi looked at them, somewhat nervously, and George nodded encouragement.

“I have something to tell you,” she said timidly as Sarah looked at her. Sarah could sense more than guess at what was coming. But at Mimi's age, what could it be? Her life rolled along without incident, as long as she was in good health. There was a twinkle in her eyes as she looked first at Jeff, then at Sarah. “George and I are getting married,” she almost whispered. She looked faintly embarrassed, as though there was something slightly silly about it. But they loved each other and wanted to spend their final years together. The only bad news was that they were moving to Palm Springs. George had already sold his house in the city, and Mimi was putting her house on the market. They were going to use George's apartment in San Francisco, whenever they came to town, which Sarah suspected, sadly, wouldn't be often. They had too much fun in Palm Springs, and far less in San Francisco.

“You're marrying him and not me?” Jeff said, looking outraged. “I caught the garter, you know, he didn't.” He pretended to look disgusted, and sorely wronged, as the others laughed at him.

“I'm sorry, darling.” Mimi patted his hand lovingly. “You'll just have to marry Sarah.”

“No, he won't,” Sarah was quick to add.

“Yeah, fat chance of that,” Jeff complained. “She won't have me.”

“Have you asked her?” Mimi asked with eyes full of hope and wonder. She would have liked that, and she knew Audrey would, too. They had chatted about it several times.

“No,” Jeff answered honestly, sitting down to eat his pie, while Sarah poured champagne. It felt like déjà vu, from when her mother had announced the same thing at the same table in May. Now Mimi was getting married. Sarah reflected that all her female relatives were getting married and moving away. It left only her and Jeff in the city. She was already lonely at the prospect of Mimi leaving, although she was excited for them at their news, and it was obvious they were, too. George just sat there and beamed, while Mimi's eyes danced.

“If I ask Sarah to marry me, she'll probably dump me, or at least throw me out. She's committed to the notion of living in sin as a way of life,” Jeff said, and Mimi laughed. They all knew that Jeff and Sarah were living together, and it didn't bother her at all. She was nearly forty years old, and had a right to do what she wanted.

Sarah ignored his good-natured complaints and asked them when they were getting married. They hadn't set the date yet, but they wanted it to be soon. “At our age, we can't afford to wait,” Mimi said gaily, as though that were a good thing. “George probably wants to get married on the golf course, between games. We can't decide whether to do it there or here. We have so many friends down there, it might be too much fuss,” Mimi said pensively, as they all toasted the couple with champagne.

“Why don't you do it here, like Mom did?” Sarah suggested, feeling nostalgic about the whole event. It was so weird that all the elders of the family were getting married. She suddenly felt alone out in left field.

“That's an awful lot of trouble for you,” Mimi said. “I don't want to give you all that work. You're so busy.”

“I'm not too busy for you,” Sarah insisted. “I can use the same caterers Mom had for her wedding. They were great. They didn't even leave a mess.”

“Are you sure?” Mimi seemed to hesitate, but George looked enthusiastic. He liked the idea, and reminded her that she had been born in the house. It made sense to get married there. It was a nice, sentimental thing to do. Jeff's friend from New York was enjoying the exchange of plans and said his own grandmother had remarried the year before and moved to Palm Beach, and was very happy.

“When would you like to do it?” Sarah asked matter-of-factly, as Jeff continued to play the rejected lover, which delighted Mimi. She always referred to him to Sarah as “that sweet boy.” At forty-five, just recently, he was no boy, although he looked young for his age.

“We were thinking of New Year's Eve,” George interjected. “It'll give us something to celebrate every year. And I think it would be nice for your grandmother to do it here, in this house. It would mean a lot to her,” he added, and she blushed. She had told him only that morning that she didn't want to burden Sarah, but she had admitted how much she would love it, so everyone was pleased.

“Does Mom know?” Sarah suddenly wondered. Her mother hadn't said a thing. Mimi nodded.

“We called her this morning, and told her when we wished them a happy Thanksgiving. She approved.”

“Traitor,” Jeff muttered darkly. “I'm a much better catch than he is.” He glanced at George to everyone's amusement. “Although I have to admit, he's the better dancer. When I danced with Mimi at Audrey's wedding, I stepped all over her feet, and those pretty pale blue shoes. So I guess I can't blame you. But you've broken my heart.”

“I'm sorry, darling.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Come and stay with us anytime you like in Palm Springs. You can even bring Sarah.”

“I should hope so.” Sarah pretended to be miffed, and then they got down to the details of the wedding. She got out a yellow pad and made a list of what they wanted. They wanted to keep it very simple. Only the immediate family. And a simple dinner. They wanted a minister to marry them, and Mimi assured Sarah that hers would come to the house. Mimi wanted to do it at eight o'clock, and have a nine o'clock dinner. Audrey had told her that morning that she and Tom would come. She said they'd probably go down to Pebble Beach after that for the weekend.

“What has my family suddenly become?” Sarah complained loudly. “Nomads? Doesn't anyone want to be in San Francisco anymore except me?”

“Apparently not,” Jeff answered for them. “I don't think it's personal. They're just having more fun somewhere else.” He wouldn't have admitted it to her, but as much as he liked Mimi, and even Audrey, he liked the idea of having Sarah to himself.

“Wow,” Sarah said, as she suddenly thought of it, “we only have six weeks to plan the wedding. I'll call the caterer and everyone else tomorrow.” But there were no invitations to send out, nothing elaborate to organize. What they wanted was very simple. It would just be the immediate family, in the house, on New Year's Eve. It would be even simpler than Audrey's wedding to Tom.

They chatted excitedly about it for the next two hours, and then all the guests went home. Mimi had told them before she and George left that they weren't taking a honeymoon. They were going to do something easy like spend a weekend at the Bel Air hotel in L.A. Mimi had always liked it, and it was an easy drive for them. Jeff had told them that he was disappointed to hear they weren't doing something more exotic, like a trip to Las Vegas. He had hugged both of them when they left.