"Here's both my girls," Jack said cheerfully. He kissed the top of Sylvia's head and hugged Rose with one arm. "Whatcha doing?"

"We're making pies," Sylvia announced.

"Really? I didn't know you baked," he said, turning to Rose.

"I do many things," Rose said mysteriously.

"I can see that," he replied. "They look good. What's the occasion?"

"The dinner," Rose said. "Remember?"

"That's tonight?"

"It's tomorrow," Rose said. "But I wanted to get things started tonight in case something goes wrong."

"It won't," Jack said.

"Your confidence has been noted," Rose replied. "And I hope you're right."

"Syl, tell your mother I'm right," he said. Sylvia just shook he head. He ruffled her curls. "Fine. Can I help?"

"We don't really need help," Rose said. "But you can make your own pie, if you want to."

"Do it," Sylvia urged. "It's fun."

"I've never baked anything," Jack said. "Show me what to do, Syl."

The materials looked too big in her small hands, but she handled them deftly. Jack was impressed. Sylvia needed little prompting from Rose, who finished her own pies easily. Of course Rose knew how to bake. Why had he been surprised by that? It was such a change, he supposed, from the girl who talked about the things she could do, if given the chance. This woman went out and did them. He'd known she would. Jack glanced at her. She caught his eye. "What?"

"Nothing," he said, smiling slightly.

The pies turned out well. The smell filled the apartment, making their stomachs growl, but Rose wouldn't let them eat any until after dinner. Sylvia looked at Jack, hoping he would change her mind, but he shrugged. "You heard her," he said.

…..

Rose flipped through her clothes. The hangers made a loud thwick sound as she moved impatiently through the closet. She pulled out a green dress and held it up to herself in front of the mirror.

"That's pretty," Jack said from behind her. "I haven't seen you in that."

"I haven't worn it in a while," she said. "I didn't realize I had so many clothes. I guess I should get rid of some."

"No reason why you should."

Rose frowned at her reflection. "I think I'll go with the lavender dress instead."

"Is this for tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yes." She pulled out another dress. "Do you think it's a good choice?"

"I think it's great," Jack answered. "You'll look beautiful in it. You look beautiful in everything, Rose."

"You're sweet, Jack."

"It's true," he said. "Why would I say it if I didn't mean it?"

"To placate me?" she said.

"Why're you so worried about this dinner? It's just a few people, our friends," he said. "They're not gonna be judging your clothes."

"Of course they will be. They won't say anything. They'll be polite about it, but they'll be looking at everything. This is the first time we've invited anyone here, and it's the first time since I…."

"Since you what?" he said.

"Since I stopped working," Rose said. "I don't want them thinking I—that I've let myself go or…"

"What are you talking about?" Jack said. "Rose, why would anyone think that? And you work. You write. You keep the place together. You cook. That pie you made was incredible," he went on. "I'dve married you for that if I'd known about it."

"Did you really like it?" she asked, with a smile.

"I ate two pieces, didn't I?" He took her hands. "You've got nothing to worry about. No-one is judging you. No-one is thinking any less of you. If this is gonna upset you, we won't do it."

"No, I want to," Rose said. "We already have the dessert, after all. I'm just overthinking it. Looking for something to worry about. Old habits die hard and all that."

Jack kissed her forehead. "It'll be great," he said. "You'll see."

….

The actual dinner came together perfectly. Rose was afraid she started cooking too early, but it was at a good middle point when Jack and Sylvia came home.

"Is this all for us?" Jack asked.

"It's all for us," she answered.

"Are we having a party?" Sylvia asked.

"Not quite," Rose said. "We're just having some people over for dinner. Your Aunt Marie and your father's friend Alan and a new friend, Amy. She paints."

"Will she bring her paintings with her?" Sylvia asked, intrigued by the idea of a lady painter.

"Probably not," Jack said. "But maybe I could take you to see them sometime."

"Could you really?" Sylvia said eagerly.

"I'll find out," he promised.

"Why don't you go change out of your school clothes," Rose suggested.

"Can I dress up for dinner?" Sylvia asked.

"Yes," Rose answered. "But you can't stay up late."

When she was gone Jack said, "She's excited about this, isn't she?"

"Oh, she loves any excuse to put on a fancy dress, you know that," Rose said. "She'd wear one every day if we let her."

"Were you like that?"

"Not really," she said, shaking her head. "I wanted to be outside. I wanted clothes that didn't have to be protected." Jack brushed his fingertips across her cheek. He gazed at her intently. "What is it?" she said, smiling self-consciously.

"Nothing," he said. "It's just you."

"What about me?"

"I love you," Rose."

"I love you too, Jack," she said. "But you keep looking at me as if I'm going to disappear."

"I don't mean to," he said. He pulled her closer and kissed her. She sank against him. "I'm just happy," he whispered. "It's been so long since I was really happy, Rose."

She brushed the hair away from his eyes. "Get used to it," she said.

…

Marie arrived first, followed by Alan, and then Amy. "Would you all like a tour?" Rose asked. Her mother's voice sounded in her head; she found herself remembering the things she did during parties. Polite. Gracious. But this wasn't different from the times she and Marie incited friend to the house, was it? Rose tried to tell herself it was the same, but she didn't quite believe it. Those had been impromptu gatherings. They were frequent and usually consisted of Rose's friends from the theater or people Marie knew. There weren't expectations for those parties. Rose caught Marie's eyes and was rewarded with a smile. It mattered that she approve of this new life. She was the only family Rose had, aside from Jack and Sylvia, and her good opinion was important. She was like the older sister Rose never had.

"Who did the painting?" Amy asked. She cast an impressed eye over the mural in Sylvia's room.

"I did," Jack said.

"Really?" Amy said. "I didn't know you painted. Another reason to trust you."

"Amy is letting Jack handle her work," Rose explained. "It wasn't easy to convince her."

"You helped, Rose," Amy said.

Rose shook her head. "I just came along."

"Is she always like this?" Amy asked, not unkindly.

"Yes," Jack and Marie said in unison. They laughed awkwardly, each trying to claim Rose.

"Does that answer your question?" Marie said.

"It does," Amy replied, turning her gaze on Marie. Marie looked into her eyes. She smiled, as if she recognized something in them.

"Well, shall we have dinner?" Rose said.

Rose didn't have to worry about the conversation lagging. As soon as they settled into their chairs, talk began to flow. Sylvia listened intently, her eyes darting from one speaker to another. She loved times like this.

"You haven't been to Europe?" Marie said, aghast. "How can you call yourself an artist?"

"I don't always," Amy replied. "Sometimes I call myself nothing. But why does a trip to Europe matter? It won't help me become a better painter."

"But you'll see so many things," Marie said. "You can't imagine."

"She's right," Jack agreed. "I went, years ago, and it changed my life. I learned about artists I probably wouldn't have seen otherwise. I saw incredible work. I got close enough to touch it." His blue eyes sparkled with the memory.

'The two of you certainly endorse it," Amy said. "What about you, Alan? Rose?"

"I've been a few times," Alan said. "I enjoyed it. I wouldn't say it's necessary. There's plenty to see right here."

"I agree," Amy said, nodding approvingly. "What do you say, Rose?"

"I went once, a long time ago," Rose answered. "I didn't enjoy it as much as I could have. I wasn't in such good company then, but I want to go back someday. I had quite a collection of paintings by the time I left," she said, a faraway look in her eyes.

"What happened to them?" Alan asked.

'They were lost," Rose said. "It was very unfortunate."

…

Rose hadn't intended for the evening to be a matchmaking session, but she hoped a couple might form because of it. That didn't seem likely, however. The three guests appeared to be interested only in being friends, though a warm intimacy was already developing between Amy and Marie. They tried not to, but they kept drifting off into conversations by themselves.

Rose sighed contentedly when the door was closed for the last time. "That went well, don't you think?"

"It was fun," Jack said. "I'm glad we did it."

"So am I. It's nice having friends over as a couple, isn't it? It makes me feel so married," she added, with a laugh.

"That's what makes you feel married?"

"As much as anything else," she replied. "I like doing things with you, Jack. I like showing you off. I like being seen together."

"I know what you mean," Jack said. He held out his hand. "Ready for bed?"

"Yes. I'm exhausted." As if to prove it, she yawned.

"Want me to carry you?" he offered.

"Is that a joke?"

"Nope," he said.

Rose laughed as he swung her up in his arms. She looped an arm around his neck. "Carrying me off to bed, how romantic," she said. "I wish I weren't so tired and could appreciate it more."

"That's why we're goin to bed."

"You know what I mean," she said.

"Yeah, I know," he said. "There's tomorrow." He grinned. "There's the morning."

"That seems wrong, somehow," Rose said, as he put her down. "It sounds like something we aren't allowed to do."

"I'm sure it's alright," he said.

She kissed him sweetly. "I know. It's you, after all."

…..

Jack wasn't surprised when another letter from Ruth arrived. This time he didn't hesitate before reading it.

Mr. Dawson, it began. He was almost pleased that she hadn't dropped the formal tone. Being addressed as Jack, by her, would have sounded unnatural.

I cannot quite believe your claims that Rose wishes to see me. If she does, why isn't she writing herself? I wonder if she even knows about this correspondence of ours. You have told her, I presume?

He hadn't told Rose. Jack felt as if Ruth could see him. She knew, somehow. He felt guilty. But he was just trying to bring them back together.

Thank you for the photograph. I enjoyed seeing her again, after all this time. She certainly looks well, much better than I dared hope. You're managing to provide for her. Commendable. I wouldn't have expected it.

He let out a breath. It wasn't worth getting offended over. If Ruth knew the whole story, her comments would be much worse. Not telling her everything might have been a mistake, but it had seemed like too much to explain at the beginning. He was shocked she wrote back the first time. Anger curdles even the strongest love, if it's held on to. But Ruth had placed all of her anger on him.

I didn't know what to think when you said you and Rose had a daughter. I can hardly imagine Rose as a mother. She's still too young, but she isn't really, anymore. Sometimes I forget how much time has passed.

Jack felt a twinge of sympathy. He knew exactly how she felt. It was terrible to lose time with someone you loved, for any reason.

She looks like a lovely child. Fortunately, she resembles Rose as much, if not more, than she does you. I only hope she causes the two of you less grief.

I need more time to consider your invitation. I would like to hear from Rose before I accept. The last thing I want is another melodramatic scene.

Jack knew he wouldn't be able to surprise Rose with a visit from her mother. It would be a disaster. She would never forgive him. But would she agree to such a thing? She wanted to see her mother again. He was certain of that. But would she be willing to go through with it? And what about Sylvia? Was it fair to bring yet another long lost relative into her life?

He raked his fingers through his hair. Sylvia deserved all the family she could get, didn't she? He had none to offer, but maybe, he could make up for that.

…..

Jack wasn't sure how to bring it up. In the end he decided to just say it, as plainly as he could. He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice Rose was similarly preoccupied. Unlike him, however, she was happy. She hummed while she made dinner. Her eyes shone, and she kept smiling, for no reason at all.

Sylvia noticed. Her mother had never been especially unhappy, as far as she knew, but this was different. It reminded her of the way she acted after Jack first started coming around. She wondered at its cause. Rose showed no sign of letting them in on the secret, though, and Sylvia went off to play after dinner, none the wiser.

"Jack, we need to talk," Rose said.

"We do," he said. "There's something I need to tell you."

"I have something to tell you."

"You go first," Jack offered.

"Well—" Rose took a deep breath. For the first time he noticed the look in her eyes, the nervous way she kept folding and refolding her hands. He began getting nervous himself. "I'm pregnant," she said excitedly.

It took a moment for the words to sink in. "What?" he said. "Are you really?"

Rose nodded. "Yes. I found out today."

"I can't believe it." He laughed. He pulled her into his lap. "Really?" he said again, smiling brightly.

"Really, Jack." She ran her fingers through his hair. "We're going to have another one."

"You know before, when I said I was happy? I was wrong. I'm happy now," he said.

She kissed him. "So am I. I was starting to wonder if it would happen. I was getting impatient, I guess. I want this so badly."

"I do too," he said.

"What were you going to tell me?" Rose asked.

Jack hesitated. He was afraid bringing it up would ruin the moment. But then again, it might be the perfect time to discuss it. "You remember when we talked about your mother?" he said.

"Yes." Rose looked at him curiously.

"Well, I did some thinking, and I wrote to her."

"You did? Why?" she said.

"I thought it would be good for you to see her again," he answered. "It's been a long time. I know you'd like to, and Sylvia should have a chance to meet her. I don't have any family to give her, but you do."

Rose was silent. He waited for her to respond. Her face offered no clues. "I can't believe you did that," she said finally. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to surprise you and find out how she felt before getting your hopes up," he replied. "Are you upset?"

"No. I'm just shocked," she said. "I never expected to hear this. How did she react?"

"She hates me, but she wants to see you."

"She doesn't hate me?" Rose said. "That's hard to believe."

"She misses you."

"That's even harder to believe," she said.

"You'd miss Sylvia," Jack pointed out.

"But we're different. I actually see her every day. I…our relationship was never simple, Jack. My mother and I, we didn't get along very well, and we didn't talk very much. And I've disappointed her."

"You don't hafta worry about that," he said. "She blames me for everything."

"I don't want that," Rose said. "It isn't fair. You didn't drag me away with you."

"No, I bewitched you," he said.

"Did she say that?"

"More or less," he said. "I've got the letters here, if you want to read them."

"Yes, I'd like to," she said.

Rose read each letter slowly. When she finished she sighed. "What are you gonna do?" Jack asked.

"I'm not sure."

She lay awake all night thinking about it. The next morning, Rose went to her desk and wrote a letter.