When they got home, literally the moment they walked in the door, the phone rang. It was Amy, their best friend from college.
“You guys are home, right? Because this party planning is already out of control and Rich just had to get stitches because he dropped my nice glass punch bowl and I know the New Year’s thing doesn’t start until nine tonight but can you please, please, please help?”
It was one in the afternoon, both were jetlagged, the baby was fussy—and they went anyway, because it was Amy, and she was cute and Ukranian, and they’d been friends for more years than it was probably a good idea to count. And when they got there, the baby went in the jumper and Maura flopped down on the couch and Natalie immediately went to help hang up decorations and it almost felt like university a
