I said nothing.

“Don’t worry, honey, we bought the class another hamster,” Jake assured me.

Before I could reply, Ethan dashed to me and asked, “Can I help with something?”

“Well, you could but most everything is done. I just have to mash the potatoes,” I told him.

“I can so mash potatoes. Lydie taught me how,” he declared.

She’d taught me how too. And knowing she taught him how made me feel even warmer.

I didn’t share this.

“All right then.” I moved to the stove. “Let’s get these drained and get you started.”

“Amber, babe, put another place setting on the table.” I heard Jake order quietly as Ethan shadowed me carrying my pan of boiled potatoes from Aga to sink.

Thus commenced the final preparations for dinner where not only Ethan but everyone got in on the act.

I found in supervising him that Ethan was expert at mashing potatoes.

I also found that Amber knew where everything was and put another place setting on the kitchen table that I’d already prepared (I felt a family dinner should be consumed in the kitchen, not made formal in the dining room, so that was where we were to eat).

Even Jake helped and he did this by ordering Amber to assist with putting the peas, carrots and corn in bowls and working alongside her, putting the warmed rolls in a basket.

When I approached the table with the main dish, all was on it. Jake had even put my wineglass and the bottle of wine I’d opened earlier and began consuming while preparing dinner by my seat at the end.

“Shit, babe, you made meatloaf?”

My alarmed eyes cut to Jake to see him staring at the dish I was arrested in the endeavor of putting it on the table.

He was also smiling which was contradictory to his tone and thus confusing.

“Rosemary meatloaf with a tomato-based sauce,” I told him.

“It…smells…awesome!” Ethan announced, his big eyes on the meatloaf.

“Rosemary meatloaf with a tomato-based sauce,” Jake strangely repeated after me, his gaze moving from the dish to my face.

“Don’t you like meatloaf?” I asked, finally setting the dish on a scrolled-iron hot plate.

“I do,” he replied. “Though, a pretty woman who wears five hundred dollar shoes and two hundred dollar sweaters serving meatloaf is shocking as shit. I thought we’d have to force down coq au vin or something.”

I decided not to inform him that my shoes were six hundred dollars and my sweater four. I also made a mental note, should they come over for dinner again, that I shouldn’t make my coq au vin, which I thought was excellent and was one of my signature dishes, but clearly it would not be well-received.

Then again, I had no chance to inform him of anything as he continued speaking.

“Though, rosemary meatloaf in a tomato-based sauce is less of a surprise. Not sure I’ve ever had rosemary in meatloaf, but by the look and smell of it, I’m lookin’ forward to it.”

I tossed the oven mitts I was wearing to the butcher block and sat, murmuring, “Well, I hope it satisfies.”

“I’m just glad there’s lots of veggies and rolls,” Amber mumbled into our exchange.

Jake sighed.

“Can we dig in?” Ethan asked.

“Please do,” I invited.

Without delay, they did.

It was after bowls were passed around and plates were passed to me so I could cut and serve the meatloaf and everyone was eating, all of this done in silence (and rather swiftly), when I decided conversation was in order.

“And what’s your eldest son doing this evening? Um…Conner,” I asked Jake.

“Probably a threesome,” Amber muttered.

Ethan chuckled.

I stared at her with wide eyes.

Jake bit out, “Amber.”

She looked down to her plate.

Jake looked to me. “He’s got a job in town, Josie. He works at Wayfarer’s. He’s on tonight.”

“Ah,” I murmured.

With nothing else to add to that, we all resumed eating.

After I buttered my roll (purchased, incidentally, at Wayfarer’s Grocers, the only market in town—it had a variety of the usual sundries but mostly it was a gourmet market with a superb butcher’s counter, fresh organic vegetables, an extraordinary seafood selection, a large plethora of cheeses, and a fabulous bakery that made excellent breads, rolls and also pastries), I asked, “And how old is everybody?”

“I’m eight,” Ethan shared immediately, mouth full.

Amber said nothing so Jake told me, “Amber’s sixteen. Conner is seventeen, nearly eighteen. She’s a junior, he’s a senior.”

“Ah,” I repeated my murmur, surprised at Conner’s age. He’d appeared older.

We again lapsed into silence as we continued to consume the meal.

“This is really good, babe,” Jake eventually said.

I looked to him and smiled, again feeling warm inside. “Thank you.”

He winked at me and turned his attention back at his plate.

But when he winked at me, my stomach did something strange. It felt like it dropped and when it did, tingles shot across my skin, and neither were disagreeable sensations.

They were, however, confusing ones. But it wasn’t the time to process them so I looked to Amber to see her eyeing the meatloaf.

I felt my lips curl up slightly.

She was no vegetarian and although she loaded her plate with veggies and potatoes, I knew she wanted to try the meatloaf that her father and brother were gratifyingly devouring.

I didn’t bring attention to this. I picked up the basket with the rolls and offered it to her.

“Would you like another?”

She looked to me then back to her plate. “I’m good.”

I studied her as I put down the basket.

She was very becoming and thus I wasn’t surprised she had a boyfriend. She probably could have several if she chose.

And more if she didn’t look like a teenaged lady of the evening.

Studying her, I made a decision and put it into action.

“Amber,” I called and she looked at me. “I don’t know if my grandmother told you, but I work in fashion.”

“Yeah, she said,” she muttered, looking back to her almost empty plate. It seemed that was mostly all she could do: mutter, mumble and murmur.

She also had a lovely voice so this was unfortunate.

Now was not the time to get into that, however.

Priorities.

“Then, I hope you don’t mind that I share, you’re exceptionally pretty.”

Her eyes darted back to me and they held some surprise.

And this surprised me. Surely, she’d looked in the mirror.

Then again, the way she applied cosmetics, perhaps not.

I kept speaking.

“However, you’ve a heavy hand with cosmetics. Your eyeliner is quite thick and eyebrow pencils are meant to fill in what’s already there, not draw something new.”

The air in the room changed as Amber’s face changed. It went slack then started twisting.

Nevertheless, no mention had been made of these children’s mother, Jake was clearly no longer with any of his wives and someone had to tell her.

It was imperative.

So I kept talking.

“Jean-Michel DuChamp taught me how to do makeup,” I declared, her face stopped twisting, her eyes got huge and her lips parted. “If you’d like, I’d be happy to show you some of the things he showed me. You’ve clearly got an eye to what shades suit you best, you simply use too much of them.”

“You know Jean-Michel DuChamp?” she breathed.

“Of course,” I replied.

She blinked rapidly for a long moment before she told me, “I’ve got both his books. The one where he did all those supermodels up in crazy ways, like making that chick look like a baby doll and doing Acadie up in that badass futuristic look. I also have the other one where he did awesome stuff with all those Hollywood movie stars.”

I knew the model Acadie. She was very beautiful as well as very sweet. I also knew of those books mostly because Henry had worked on one.

“Henry shot that one with the models,” I told her.

“Ohmigod,” she whispered. “How didn’t I know that? Lydie told us you worked for Henry Gagnon. I should have known that.”

I shrugged. “I’ve no idea how you didn’t know, though that book was about Jean-Michel’s vision, not Henry’s photos. He’s often like that. Sometimes, it’s about the pictures. Sometimes it’s about what’s in the pictures. And when it’s the latter, he doesn’t like overshadowing that. He was credited in the book, of course, but with that book, he wished for it to be about Jean-Michel so, if memory of his contract serves, his credit was unobtrusive.”

“Cool.” She was still whispering.

I threw out a hand and offered, “If you like, I can take a photo of you. I’ll send it to Jean-Michel and ask him to share some pointers. He does this for me often. I’ll take a picture of an outfit I’m wearing and tell him where I’m wearing it and he’ll email me rather detailed instructions on how to make up my face. I’m sure he’d be happy to do something of that ilk for you.”

Her eyes were now very large and very bright and she was still whispering when she said, “Are you freaking serious?”

“Of course,” I replied.

“Ohmigod, oh my freaking God,” she breathed and then looked to her father. “Dad, you so have to lift the ban on my cell. I have to tell Taylor and Taylor about this!”

Jake opened his mouth but I was able to ask before he said anything, “Taylor and Taylor?”

“Her best friends,” Ethan answered. “Taylor is a girl. The other Taylor is a boy and he’s gay.”

“He wants to be a makeup artist just like Jean-Michel,” Amber shared. “And Taylor wants to be a model.”