As Susanne had said, the food was going quickly, but I managed to snag a few pieces of cheese, a hunk of French bread, and a brownie. All I was missing was a place to sit and eat. Bernie and Joi were still in deep conversation in the living room, so I moved close, hoping that Bernie’s good manners would overcome a likely desire for privacy, and I was right. “Nell, sit next to us,” Bernie said as she saw me wandering with a full plate and a frustrated look. I obliged. “Am I interrupting something?” I asked innocently. Joi shook her head. “Bernie has been telling me about my parents. I feel like I’m hearing about strangers.” “Oh dear,” Bernie said. “I was just telling her about high school, the things we did back then.” “Did you know that Bernie and my father were an item?” Joi asked. “I’d heard something about that,” I said. “What’s she been telling you?” “She said they were practically engaged.” I looked at Bernie. That was the first time I’d heard that.
