So did Nora, who had met me in college and never been impressed by my family’s elaborate rules.

She wore a forest-green dress and had pinned a sprig of rosemary into her hair.

“For the record,” she said, “that entrance was beautiful.

Not because anyone was surprised.

Because you looked happy.”

“I was.”

“Then remember that part.”

Across the room, Dad stood with a glass in his hand, speaking to several older relatives.