“Stuart!” she squeals, lifting him up into her arms.

She’s wearing a dress that looks like it came straight out of Barbie’s catalog. It’s a pink (naturally), strapless number with a puff of cotton candy material for a skirt that falls just above the knees. The rhinestones that cover the top, and the strappy, metallic pink heels she’s got on, make her look like she’s on her way to senior prom.

What the hell kind of party is this?

I’m beginning to feel conspicuous in my trademark Armani suit, tonight in dark gray.

“Oh, my favorite boy!” Simone gushes. “I’m so happy to see you finally. How are you? What in the world are you doing here?”

The questions roll off her tongue a mile a minute while I wait. I note the near chokehold Stuart has around her neck as he presses his body into her. His legs are wrapped around her waist and she rubs his back in a maternal way. It’s as though the two of them have an instant connection with one another.

A tiny stab of guilt hits me regarding my ultimate plans. It quickly disappears when I remind myself of the man I plan on turning Stuart into. A man who will be successful, confident, and admired—or better yet, feared. Besides, it’s not as though I’d never let him see his aunt. I’m perfectly amenable to scheduling occasional visits, very supervised visits.

Simone’s face is glowing as she closes her eyes and smiles, happily hugging Stuart. After a moment, they open, then narrow into slits as they land on me over his shoulder.

She walks from the front door of the apartment toward me with complete agility in her stilettos, all while carrying Stuart. I’ve dated supermodels whose bare minimum job requirement is to walk in shoes like that and I am impressed.

Stuart has finally pulled his face away from her neck and for the first time I see a genuinely happy expression on it.

“What in the world are you doing here? I thought we agreed on Monday.”

The music is still going but the testiness in her voice is enough to add a few decibels to her normal tone.

“Stuart couldn’t wait to see you. I thought it might be a nice surprise for the both of you.”

She glares at me, not believing one word of that. Now that we’re in such close proximity I am better able to see the slight puffiness surrounding her eyes, which are red, as though she’s been crying. Somehow they still manage to look spectacularly mesmerizing.

“Surprise, hmm?” she says, searching my face. “I bet.”

I find myself unsettled by how perfect her face is. It reminds me of Kevin’s wedding, when I first met her. She was a distraction then, and she’s even more of one now.

“I have a pretty good idea what you’re doing here,” she says, giving me a hard look. Then she turns to Stuart and her face brightens. “Actually, it is a good thing. It gives Stuart a chance to see just how much his mother was loved.”

Before I can figure out what the hell that means, she is gently disentangling Stuart’s arms and legs from her body.

“Here Stuart, you stay with Uncle Archer.” She practically spits my name as she transfers Stuart to me. He feels like nothing as I take hold of him, tiny and lightless. His arms feel like twigs round my neck as he follows Simone with his eyes. I’m not suddenly flush with a bout of paternal emotion or anything, but I’m not completely immune to the effect of so much physical contact: how easily Stuart sits in the crook of my elbow; the faint smell of chocolate milk on his breath; the way his hair brushes my chin.

Simone has disappeared into the crowd, but I stay put. Obviously, she has something to show us. With any luck, it’s as damning as this entire party has been. I’m nothing if not patient. Let her dig this hole a little bit deeper.

The final notes of Pretty in Pink are cut off, which is enough to end the loud buzz of conversation and partying in the room.

“Attention! Attention everyone!”

It’s CoCo, leading a path through the room as he taps a spoon against his empty martini glass. Simone follows him like a queen making her way through her crowd of subjects. I notice that she’s barefoot now.

The attendees part for both of them as she makes her way to the sofa that has been pushed up against the window in the living room. The removal of her stilettos is explained as she climbs up onto it, with the help of CoCo.

It’s so reminiscent of the wedding rehearsal dinner, complete with the pink theme of the wedding, that I can practically feel the same bile of resentment rise in my throat.

“Hello everyone!” she says looking around the room with a smile.

That’s enough to silence even the few whispers and titters that have lingered during the initial procession. Vanessa hands her a flute of pink hued champagne and steps back, holding her camera up to take a photo as Simone raises it.

“I just want to thank everyone for showing up tonight.” She’s made sure to focus on Stuart and me when she emphasizes ‘everyone.’

“I know that most of you came out to enjoy yet another Saturday night party, and that’s perfect, because that was one of the main goals of tonight’s gathering: to enjoy yourselves and have fun.

“Life is short. Tonight you could be partying here at my apartment and tomorrow, well, tomorrow who knows?” She gives a sad smile around the room.

“I know that most of you didn’t know my sister Bette, but I’m positive she would have loved all of you. Bette loved everyone and always saw the good in them.” Once again she casts a direct look my way.

“Most importantly, she wouldn’t have wanted anyone who knew and loved her to mourn her death by crying or feeling sad or, worst of all, wearing black. Because pink was her color. Hence the theme of this party!”

She raises her glass in the air and a round of claps and cheers arises from the room.

“I felt it was only fitting to celebrate, rather than mourn, the life of someone who was so considerate of others.”

She pauses a moment as she squeezes her eyelids shut and presses her lips together to keep from crying. Once again, I have to wonder who would be giving me the same treatment at death. Actually, I can think of more than a few people who might raise a glass in celebration.

“So tonight, I’m honoring my sister’s memory in the only way she would ever allow me to.” She laughs a bit and now I can clearly see the tears in her eyes. “By enjoying life to the fullest.”

She raises her glass in the air and everyone else in the room follows her lead.

“So here is to Bette Bennett. The sister who introduced me to the perfection that is the color pink.”

“Hear hear!” shouts CoCo to laughter and a round of applause. Simone just laughs with everyone else and continues on.

“To the sister who taught me how to braid my hair, and rescued me when I disastrously decided to cut my own bangs.” This gets a few chuckles. “To the sister who was the only reader of my blog for a whole month before it slo-wly took off. To the sister who supported me through my first crush and…well, I wish she’d been here for more recent events.”

Simone frowns and there is a ripple of whispering circling the room, heavy with the negative undertone of that statement. I assume this is regarding Josh, who I’m not allowed to mention tonight.

She perks up again. “To the sister who was my best friend in the world, even when separated by an ocean.”

Now she lifts her glass to where Stuart and I are standing. “To the sister who married, quite possibly her perfect match, and created the most wonderful nephew ever. She left me in charge of her most cherished creation, and I plan on cherishing him just as much, if not more, than she did. That’s you, kiddo,” she says, winking our way and pointing her glass at Stuart. I see a teardrop fall from her eyes.

Stuart smiles at her then burrows his face into my neck as everyone turns to look our way.

“To Bette, the best sister a girl could ever ask for!” Simone raises her glass then drinks it down, indicating a conclusion to her speech.

“To Bette!” the crowd echoes as they cheer and drink. As if on cue, the music starts up again. The saxophone is going into its solo, winding down the last few notes of Pretty in Pink.

Simone hops off the sofa, puts her glass down and makes a beeline straight for Stuart and me. Without a word, she takes the hand of mine that isn’t holding Stuart and leads us toward the door.

As we head out, Pretty in Pink ends and the first lines to LL Cool J’s Pink Cookies in a Plastic Bag begin.

As we walk out, any hint of emotion I’ve felt with that eulogy of hers evaporates. Simone can make all the sentimental speeches she wants, but it makes no difference.

The Jaguar is back.