“This looks delicious, sweetheart,” I said. “What’s in it?”

“Chocolate pudding and Cool Whip,” London answered. “It’s like a soft Oreo cookie and I helped Nana make it. She said it won’t ruin my appetite because it’s just a snack. I’m going to go eat mine with Papa, okay?”

“I’m sure he’ll love that.” Taking a quick bite, I commented, “Very tasty. You’re a great chef.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” she said. To my delight, she leaned in for a quick hug before heading back into the house, no doubt headed for my dad’s lap with a couple more desserts.

Vivian had seen London hug me and while she offered a benign smile in response, I wasn’t sure what, if anything, she felt about being left out. As soon as London closed the door, Vivian put her dessert on the table, sugar being the enemy and all. Not so with me, Marge, or Liz. Marge was on her second spoonful when she spoke again.

“You’ve got a big week ahead. London starting school, Vivian traveling, and you’re filming commercials, right? When does that start?”

“We have rehearsal on Wednesday afternoon, and we’ll film on Thursday and Friday, then a couple of days the following week. I also have a casting session next week.”

“Busy, busy.”

“I’ll be okay,” I said, realizing I actually meant it. With London in school, I had eight free hours to work, which seemed like all the time in the world compared to the life I was leading now. I took another bite of the dessert, feeling Vivian’s gaze on me.

“What?” I asked her.

“You not going to eat all of that, are you?” Vivian asked.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because we’ll be having dinner in an hour. It’s not good for you. Or your waistline.”

“I think I can handle it,” I said. “I’m down six pounds this month.”

“Then why try to put it back on?” Vivian asked.

When I didn’t respond, Liz cleared her throat. “How about you, Vivian? Are you still going to the gym and doing yoga at that place downtown?”

“Only on Saturdays. But I work out at the office gym two or three times a week.”

I blinked. “There’s an office gym?”

“You know that. You’ve seen me bringing my gym bag to work. I wouldn’t have time otherwise. Of course, it sometimes also ends up being a working session depending on which executive is there.”

Though she didn’t mention a name, I had a sinking feeling that by executive, my wife actually meant Walter, which, if true, struck me as the cruelest Saturday Surprise of all.

By then, I was downright glum. Vivian and Marge continued their superficial conversation while I pretty much tuned out, my thoughts exploding like fireworks between my ears.

London and my mom emerged from the house, both of them wearing gardening gloves. London had clearly borrowed a pair from my mom, since they seemed about three sizes too large.

“Hey sweetie!” I called out. “Time to do some planting?”

“I have gloves, Daddy! And Nana and me are going to make the flower bed soooo pretty!”

“Good for you.”

I watched as my mom lifted a shallow plastic tub containing twelve smaller plastic pots, marigolds already in bloom. London grabbed two trowels, and my mom listened attentively while London chattered away nonstop on their way to the flower bed.

“Have you ever noticed how good Mom is with London?” Marge asked. “She’s patient, cheerful, and fun.”

“You sound a little bitter when you say that,” Liz observed.

“I am,” she said. “It’s not like Mom ever planted flowers with me. Or showed me how to make pudding-in-a-cloud. Nor was she patient, cheerful, or fun as a general rule. When she spoke to me, it was because she had some chores she wanted me to do.”

“Are you open to the idea that your memories may be selective?” Liz asked.

“No.”

Liz laughed. “Then maybe you should simply accept the notion that she likes London more than she ever liked you or Russ.”

“Ouch,” Marge said. “That’s not very therapeutic.”

“I wish London would get to see my parents more often than she does,” Vivian remarked. “It makes me sad that she doesn’t have the same kind of relationship with them. Like she’s missing out on getting to know my family.”

“When was the last time they were here?” Liz asked.

“Thanksgiving,” Vivian said.

“Why don’t they come and visit this summer?”

“My dad’s company has been involved in a huge merger and my mom doesn’t like to travel without him. I suppose I could bring London to them, but these days, when would I have the time?”

“Maybe that will change when things settle down,” Liz suggested.

“Maybe,” Vivian said, a frown suddenly appearing as she watched London digging while my mom put the flowers into the ground. “If I’d known London would be planting flowers, I would have brought a change of clothes. Her dress is practically new, and she’ll be upset if she can’t wear it again.”

I doubted that London cared as much as Vivian. London probably couldn’t remember half of the dresses she owned, but my thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, piercing scream from London, the sound of pain and fear…

“OW, OW, OWWW!!! It HURTS! DADDY!!!!”