I heard voices before I rang the Bruckners’ bell. Sol’s and Miriam’s and others, loud laughter and silverware against plates. It was Nancy who opened the door.

“Grace, darling, long time no see. How are you?”

“Hi, Nancy. Good, thanks.” She leaned and kissed me somewhere between my cheek and my lips, managing to hit and miss both at the same time.

She’d been drinking. I walked down the long hall behind her and came to the dining table under the sunflower clock. Sol sat next to Miriam massaging the bare, swollen foot she had propped in his lap; Susannah looked beautiful and deathly pale in a white cotton top that showed off her skinny arms and sharp clavicles. Michael looked tired. Dave’s hair was a fuzzy mess, still in the cane rows.

Nancy put her hand on my back and presented me to the table. “Amazing Grace is here.”

I said hello to everyone and hi to Dave, whom I hadn’t seen since our trip two weeks earlier. He winked at me and smiled. “Are you coming up this week?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh, come on up, Grace.”

“Okay, maybe Wednesday.”

“I’ll expect you on Wednesday, then.”

“Hey, Grace-before-meals,” Sol said, “have some wine with us.”

“No thanks, Sol.”

“Oh, come on, Grace.” Nancy picked up a bottle and started to pour red wine into one of Miriam’s fancy gold-rimmed goblets. “We’re having a soiree.”

“Don’t force her, Nancy,” Miriam said. “Grace is shy.”

“Well, okay, if you’re shy, here.” Nancy handed me the glass poured to the brim. “Go have it in your room, but you are having some wine tonight, because we are celebrating.”

I took the offered glass, told Dave I’d see him later, and went into my room. I could hear them all out there, laughing and talking, Susannah at times piercing through the rest. I sipped some of the wine Nancy had poured. It was much drier than Canei, but not unpleasant once I swallowed.

Chairs scraped back from the dining table, and Susannah’s shrill voice said, “Now? You’re going to go up and look at plants now, in the middle of the night? You men are ridiculous. Michael, plants?”

“Come on, Suzy,” Nancy said, “you know what kind of plant they’re going to look at. Green trees, wacky tobacky. Dave always had the best stuff. Roll me one for the road, Sol.”

Miriam said, “Nancy.”

And Nancy laughed. “Hey, I’m an artist, and anything that will conjure the muse is welcome.”

“Muse my ass,” Susannah said.

“But you have no ass, darling,” Nancy replied, and they all laughed. I drained my glass and listened. More wine was being poured.

“Oh, Nancy,” Susannah said, “don’t you dare pour more wine for Miriam.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s only during the first trimester you’re not supposed to have alcohol,” Nancy told her. “The organs are all formed already. I was premed, remember? One glass of red after a full meal isn’t going to hurt the baby. In fact, the French think it will ’elp zee baby. Here, Miriam.”

“Bullshit that’s her first glass. When she’s born with flippers, you’ll say I told you so.”

“Suzy!” both Miriam and Nancy called.

“What? I’m just saying. Pour me another glass, darling.”

“Come, come,” Nancy said, “another toast, now that the males of the species have gone. To Miriam, about to join the ranks of the idle rich. Here’s to time, money, and help.”

They all laughed, and their glasses clanked off each other.

“Grace!” Miriam called me. I had hoped I wouldn’t have to go out until they were all gone. “Yes, Miriam?”

“Do me a favor, darling.” She had never called me darling before. “Put on a pot of Sol’s coffee and then start clearing this mess, will you?” She turned to her sisters-in-law. “You guys want gelato? The real deal from Luigi’s in Carroll Gardens. Full cream and heavenly.”

Susannah patted her nonexistent stomach. “I’m so full I cannot eat another bite of air. I can drink, but no gelato for me.”

“Nancy?”

Nancy looked at me while she nodded yes to Miriam.

“Bring it, Grace, and the glass clover bowls from the top shelf,” Miriam said. “Be careful.”

I took some dishes with me into the kitchen, put on the coffee, and came back with the ice cream, leaving Miriam’s DON’T TOUCH! label. And, even though Susannah had said she didn’t want any, three of the green, leaf-shaped bowls. “You have the most beautiful arms,” Nancy said as I set a bowl in front of her. “Can I feel your muscles?”

Without waiting for me to answer, she groped my upper arm. “Like marble. Suzy, feel Grace’s arms.”

Susannah set down her glass and felt my right arm. “Wow.” She flexed her own right bicep. “Do you lift, Grace? I can’t tell you how much I had to curl to get this little bugger to pop. How’d you do that?”

I set down the last bowl in front of her, the one she didn’t want. “Climbing.”

“Ah,” she said, “rocks.”

I laughed. “Not rocks, trees. I grew up in the country.”

Miriam sniggered, and I took another load of dishes to the dishwasher. Suzy’s voice was lower but still shrill. “I really don’t know how you do it, Miriam.”

“Do what?” Miriam snorted.

“Have such a smokin’ nanny working for you. You’ve seen our Theresa—face looks like the rocky mountain in Peru she climbed down from. Perfect for me, not for Michael.”

Nancy laughed. “Susannah Bruckner, you are so uncharitable.”

“Only where no charity is due, darling. What, Miriam, you think Sol can’t see? Michael totally checked her ass out when she walked by. Remember that maid’s outfit she wore at Pesach? Pure fetish. I don’t care what Aunt Ettie says, there’s no way I would hire her.” I held my breath.

“Sol’s not into black women,” Miriam said.

Both Susannah and Nancy said at the exact same moment, “Alana Monet.”

“Who?” Miriam asked.

“Suzy, are you trying to get my little brother in hot water?” Nancy asked.

“Not me,” Susannah said. “I just want some more red wine and maybe the world’s tiniest scoop of gelato in the lower-left quadrant of my lucky clover.”

“Have the hazelnut,” Nancy said. “Divine.”

“Okay, so maybe two tiny scoops, because I want to try the pistachio too.”

“Pig.”

“What? You’re eating from the tub.”

Nancy and Susannah bantered on, and, by either wine or design, neither answered Miriam’s query or my curiosity about Alana Monet.

Later I heard Miriam’s raised voice, and I realized then that in the five months I had worked for them I had never once heard her and Sol quarrel. They’d bickered, but I’d never heard them have a proper row. Miriam’s growling anger rumbled through the walls. Sol’s voice was a lower, steady murmur. Then I heard her cry.