I lifted my hand and counted them down. “One, I did it on local television and everyone saw. Two, I was kicked off the Brain Team and suspended from school. And three, I was on the Brain Team at all.”

“Men like smart girls,” she retorted.

“Yes, that’s what you told me when I didn’t have a date to the senior prom.”

She leaned forward and returned, “You didn’t have a date to the senior prom because that silly Flannery boy broke up with you for that terrible Sipowicz girl.” Mom turned to Max and added, “She had too much hair, always flouncing it around, and she was loose.”

Mom spoke the truth. Perry Sipowicz had a lot of hair she was always flouncing around and she definitely was loose.

“Anyway,” Mom turned back to the counter and started moving stuff around what appeared to be randomly, “I was proud of my Neenee Bean for sticking up to that awful television person. He thought he was God’s gift and everyone could see he was wearing a hairpiece. And he was being sexist. He wouldn’t let Nina answer any of the questions and she was the only girl on either school’s team. So I was glad she told him off.” She turned back to Max and finished, “It was then I knew she’d make a brilliant attorney. She got into every school she applied to.”

“Mom,” I said, moving toward the coffeepot, “enough.”

“You did,” Mom muttered, looked at Max and repeated, “She did.”

I looked at Max and rolled my eyes. Max smiled.

I asked the room, “Who wants coffee?”

“Me!” Mom cried as if I wasn’t standing right next to her which I was.

I looked over my shoulder at Steve, pulling down mugs from the cupboard. “Steve?”

“A cup would hit the spot, Nina.”

I looked at Max as I went to the fridge for milk. “Max?”

“Yeah, baby.”

Mom leaned into me when I made it back to the counter by her side and she whispered loudly even though if she whispered softly Max could still hear her as he was maybe two feet away. “I like that, the ‘baby’ thing. He’s yummy.”

“Stop calling Max yummy in front of Steve.”

“Oh, Steve doesn’t mind,” Mom dismissed with a wave of her hand.

“Okay, then stop calling Max yummy in front of Max.”

Mom leaned back to look behind me at Max and informed him, “Nina can be a bit uptight.”

Max burst out laughing.

I cried, “Mother!”

Mom turned wide eyes to me. “You can!”

I looked to the ceiling and called, “God? Can I have a time machine? Please. I just want to go back thirty-five years, crawl out of my pram, get lost in the wilds and be raised by stray dogs.”

Mom leaned back and said to Max, “She can also be dramatic.” She turned back to whatever she was doing at the counter and murmured, “Though, it’s good, she’s always had an excellent imagination.”

I handed Max his mug and took Steve’s coffee to him, saying, “Mom, Max likes me, okay? You don’t have to convince him seeing as I’m standing in his kitchen in his shirt.”

“All right,” Mom snapped and looked back at Max. “She can get testy too.”

I closed my eyes and dropped my head back. I stood there in supplication for half a second before an arm hooked at my waist and my back was up against Max’s front.

“Grab your coffee, Duchess and let your Mom be,” Max ordered in my ear.

I leaned forward and grabbed my coffee, muttering, “Whatever.” Then I looked at Mom and found I couldn’t let her be so I asked, “What are you doing, anyway?”

“I’m in the mood to concoct something,” Mom answered and my entire body got tense.

“Mom –” I started and Steve was with me for he said in a low, warning tone, “Nellie, not sure that’s a good idea.”

“My concoctions are the best,” Mom declared in Steve’s direction.

“Your concoctions are hit and miss. Mostly miss,” I told her.

Mom whirled on me, aghast. “You loved my blueberry, rhubarb soufflé.”

“Mom, I lied. It tasted a lot like vomit.”

Max’s body started shaking against mine but I was forced to ignore it when Mom emitted an outraged gasp.

“It did not taste like vomit!”

“Please, just let me make toast.”

Mom, if it could be believed, was even more aghast and she cried, “What will Max think, he gets toast?”

“It’s his house, Mom, you’re the guest,” I reminded her.

“I’m the Mom in any circumstances and children don’t get toast. Ever.”

“She’s got you there, Duchess,” Max whispered.

I twisted and looked up at Max. “You’re not a child, Max.”

“As long’s we’re alive, you’re always children, doll,” Steve put in and I looked at Steve and my shoulders slumped.

But I didn’t give in gracefully and therefore mumbled, “Ganged up on.”

“Deal with it, sweetie,” Mom muttered, turned to the plethora of foodstuffs on the counter and went on, hands up, wiggling her fingers, “Now, I’m thinking… something strawberry.”

I decided to take a sip of coffee and let events unfold without my participation.

It was then I realized I was leaning against Max and he still had his arm around my waist. It wasn’t weird or uncomfortable. In fact it felt natural and entirely comfortable. It was also then I realized I liked this.

“Oh my God!” Mom suddenly shouted, I jumped and looked at her to see she was holding up the new creamer I bought Max. “This is divine, Max. You have such good taste.”

“Nina bought that for me,” Max informed her and Mom’s eyes got happy wide, her face beaming and she looked at Steve.

“You hear that, Steve, darling? Nina bought Max a creamer.” And Mom said this like she would say, “You hear that, Steve darling? Nina just declared her undying love to Max and they’re going to be surgically attached at the hip tomorrow.”

“I heard it, love,” Steve said, grinning at Mom’s obvious happiness for it was doubtful Steve was thrilled about the creamer.

“Lovely,” Mom muttered and put down the creamer and then started opening and closing cupboards, still muttering when she said, “Now, bowls.”