“You’re looking very chipper this evening,” Stella said. “No sign of the Monday blues at all.”

Martha’s daughter only lived a few blocks from her house, in an apartment she shared with two fellow students, and she often popped home for a meal.

Martha shrugged. She didn’t really know what to say to Stella. She had certainly come around since Martha had first told her children she would be taking her romantic life in a different direction after the divorce, but Martha didn’t know how much she could comfortably confide in her daughter.

“How was your weekend, darling?” she asked, trying to deflect the attention away from herself.

“Mom, come on. I called you last night. You know what I did over the weekend. Were you not listening?”

“I know what you did, I’m just asking whether you enjoyed it.” Martha turned towards the fridge from which she grabbed a pack of fresh pasta she’d bought earlier. “You’re on cheese grating duty, by the way.”

Stella shook her head. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“A mother’s right, I believe.” Martha unearthed a frozen portion of bolognese sauce from the freezer. She was not the kind to come home from a full day at the university and start cooking from scratch. How would Amber feel about that? She certainly wouldn’t be able to eat any of the meal components Martha was putting together tonight.

“Now you’ve just confirmed it.” Stella cocked her head. “Is it a woman? I mean, it can really only be a woman making you look like this on an ordinary Monday night.”

Martha busied herself with filling a pot with water, turning away from her daughter’s scrutinizing gaze again. She wanted to tell her. Stella obviously wanted to know.

She put the pot on the stove and turned to face her daughter. “I went on a date.”

Stella rolled her eyes. “Why didn’t you just tell me? As if it wasn’t written all over your face and I couldn’t guess.”

Good question, Martha thought. Would she have told Stella spontaneously if she’d gone on a date with a man? She probably would have. “I don’t know, darling. I’m not sure how comfortable you are with me sharing that kind of information with you.”

“You not sharing was exactly what caused problems between us in the first place.” Stella could really amaze Martha with her frankness sometimes. “I was never very hung up on the fact that you’re now interested in women, more on the fact that you didn’t bother telling me.”

“For a long time, there wasn’t that much to tell.”

Stella waved her hand. “Water under the bridge, Mom. Now tell me about this woman.”

“Just a sec.” Martha deposited the container with sauce in the microwave and switched it on. She took a moment to spool the highlights of the date over an imaginary projector in her mind. The first highlight had actually happened before, when Amber had finally called her and asked her out. “Her name is Amber. She’s a yoga instructor. We had dinner and I had a really nice time.”

“Duh,” Stella said. “I figured as much.” She reached for her phone, which was always kept no more than an arm’s length away. “What’s her last name?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to google her. If she’s a yoga instructor, she must be easy to find.”

Now it was Martha’s turn to roll her eyes. “Gilroy,” she said, despite not being sure how she felt about her daughter googling her potential love interest. Actually, scrap the ‘potential’. Because Martha had had a nice time with Amber, which could so easily not have been the case after the months of built-up anticipation. There was something in the air between them.

“Whoa,” Stella said. “Is this her?” She showed Martha her phone.

Martha’s stomach did a little flip-flop as she looked at Amber’s profile picture on the website of the yoga studio where she worked. A picture Martha was familiar with, since she had, months ago, googled Amber herself. She nodded.

“Not what I was expecting at all,” Stella said while still scrolling on her phone.

“What were you expecting?” Martha’s curiosity was piqued.

“I don’t know.” Stella put her phone down. “Maybe someone more like Sheryl. I mean, Professor Johnson.” She pursed her lips together. “This woman looks so wholesome and...” Stella looked as though she’d caught herself before saying something she might regret. But Martha wanted to know.

“What?”

“Well, young, I guess.”

“She’s forty-five.”

Stella’s eyes grew wide. “No way.”

“It must be all that yoga,” Martha said, refusing to feel old—which was basically what Stella had hinted at.

“Nine years younger, huh. I guess it’s more acceptable than Dad and Carrie.” Stella shot her a rueful smile.

Martha couldn’t help but feel as though she had scored a valuable point against her ex-husband.

“I take it you and Amber Gilroy will be going on a second date?”

“We haven’t set it up yet, but I think there’s a very strong possibility.” As exciting as meeting someone new was, Martha wasn’t up to speed on dating protocols. “How long should I wait to call?” As the words left her mouth, she realized how silly they were—especially uttered to her daughter.

“You’re asking me for dating advice?” The grin on Stella’s face was hard to decipher. Luckily, the microwave pinged and Martha busied herself with stirring the sauce before putting it in for a second round and switching on the hob to boil the water.

They had exchanged text messages the day before, both of them declaring how much they had enjoyed the date. Maybe Martha should just text and ask. But no, that felt so juvenile, so unworthy of the beginnings of a proper romance. Amber had called her for the first date; she would call for the second.

“I wouldn’t dare, darling. Come on, set the table and grate some cheese.”

As she watched her daughter spring into action, Martha wondered what it would be like to introduce Amber to Stella and the rest of her family. She couldn’t think of any reason why anyone would ever disapprove of meeting Amber, but still, she was getting way ahead of herself.