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My Elie Tahari floral silk dress had had the good manners not to wrinkle, so once my Edmundo Castillo black patent sandals were buckled (the huge buckles were what sold me, even more than the three-and-a-half-inch heels), I was ready to go. Cassady, on the other hand, uncharacteristically chose to fuss with her hair. “Most people go out of town to let their hair down,” I pointed out as Cassady piled her auburn locks on top of her head. Tricia stood near the door, wearing a Dolce & Gabbana fitted paisley dress, draining her champagne and trying not to tap her Ashley Dearborn–framed toes.

I began to understand the appeal of silent movies for Jake: He clearly had a very noisy home life. I could tell Cassady had already decided she didn’t like him at all because she kept asking him questions, just as he was about to put food in his mouth. Between Lara and Cassady, the guy was going to starve to death. Unless pretension can sustain life by itself. ” The fork hovered in front of Jake’s mouth for another split second, but the temptation to talk overrode his hunger. He put the fork down and began to pontificate.

It’s the first week of May. ” “Doesn’t matter. ” Cassady and I exchanged a look, confirming that we were troubled by the same thought. ” I asked. ” Cassady asked. ” “The Aunt Cynthia who got drunk at your grandfather’s funeral and stood on the dining room table and sang ‘We’ll Meet Again,’” I continued, just to make sure that we were all, in fact, talking about a woman we had heard Tricia vow she would never speak to again unless under court order. ” Cassady and I wavered, uncertain of the etiquette involved in saying the next thing.