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“Let’s just say she’s rather fond of a glass of wine and leave it at that.” I give them the kind of look that should indicate I’m done talking about this now, but they’re not little girls anymore, and it doesn’t have the same effect as it used to.

“Oh, my god, Mom. Did Nora Levine get drunk at your house?”

I shake my head. “We all had a bit too much. It was that kind of night,” I lie.

“Surely you didn’t.”

I’m saved by the arrival of the rest of my family, distracting grandkids included.

* * *

After everyone has left, with my gaze on those flowers she sent, I call Nora. Heather was right. I can just call up Nora Levine whenever I want. And she did get drunk at my house.

It takes a few rings before my call is answered.

“Hi, this is Imani, answering Nora’s phone.”

“Oh. Hi.”

“Mimi, hey, um, Nora can’t come to the phone right now.”

“Okay. I just wanted to check in. See how she was feeling.”

“She’s doing all right. She worked it out with No-Mercy Marcy.”

“Excuse me?”

“Her trainer Marcy gave her the workout from hell to pay for all her sins.” Is that Nora’s voice I hear in the background? And a dog barking?

“That sounds like fun.”

“Thank you so much for taking Nora home last night. We both really appreciate it.”

“I know. I’m looking at the flowers as we speak.” There’s complete silence on the other end of the line. “Imani?”

“Yes. Sorry. Nora’s being… Nora. Hold on.”

I hear fumbling and whispering, followed by a loud thud. Just when I think the call has disconnected, Nora speaks into my ear.

“Hi, Mimi. Sorry about that.”

“Thank you for the flowers. They’re gorgeous.” What I really want to ask is exactly how drunk Nora was and whether the irresistible urge to kiss me has left her completely. Whether it’s true what she said—that she would never—ever—do something like that when sober.

“Thank you for last night. I had such a good time.” This is not the Nora who was at my house last night. This is the Nora Levine with her walls all drawn up and all the windows and doors firmly shut. But last night, I did see a crack in that heavy-duty armor she wears. And drunk or not, she made a move. Maybe it’s my turn now.

“Would you like to grab a coffee sometime this week? Maybe after you wrap for the day?”

“Oh. Um, you want to have coffee,” Nora repeats.

“Say yes,” I clearly hear Imani say in the background. So much for Nora having a private conversation.

“Imani’s telling me to say yes.”

“Imani’s a good friend who only has your best interests at heart, maybe you should listen to her.” I push a little because I think I’ve earned the right.

Nora chuckles. “Maybe, but I’m not really the coffee-grabbing kind. Why don’t you come to my house?”

“I’d love that very much.”