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my nose, and skin too warm a brown to wear such a cool, soft color. Although I gave lip service to nonchalance about my appearance, I had a strong streak of vanity, and how I looked mattered more than I cared to admit. How often had I been a dark foil for my cousin’s fairness! And I knew as soon as I stepped into the parlor that I would be again.
    Jennie was already there, wearing spring white threaded through with soft green, a vision of blue eyes and gold-streaked hair, astonishingly beautiful and definitely all grown up. But despite her extraordinary appearance and her air of sophistication, I could tell from her expression that I was important to her and that she was sincerely glad to see me.
    There was no pretense about Jennie when she drew me into Grandmother’s large front room and called to the people there, “Here is our guest of honor, Miss Johanna Swan, lately of London, England, and now back in Chicago to set the city on its ear!” She turned to me. “Come and meet Peter’s friends, Johanna. And your friend Allen Goldwyn is here, too. I forgot how pleasant he was.”
    I looked quickly for Allen and found him by the punch bowl, watching me. He smiled and lifted a cup by way of greeting, looking handsome in his usual neat way, dressed in an evening suit that matched the color of his brown hair.
    Peter detached me from Jennie and led me to two young men conversing with Aunt Kitty. “Johanna, may I introduce you to Carl Milford and Frank Mulholland?” he said by way of introduction.
    “Which is which?” I asked with a laugh, extending a hand to the young man nearer me.
    “I’m Frank Mulholland. How do you do, Miss Swan?”
    “Johanna, please. For the past two years I was always called Miss Swan so it’s music to hear my given name again.” Frank Mulholland had sandy hair and eyebrows and pleasant green eyes, slimmer than Peter but similar to my cousin in his good-natured expression. “So you,” I said, turning to the second young man, “must be Carl Milford.” He responded with a little military salute.
    “Indeed, Ma’m, if I must then I am and have been for the last twenty-two years. I’m delighted to meet the family paragon, though I admit to being even more intimidated now that I’ve met you.”
    “Really? Why is that?”
    This young man was nothing like Peter or Frank. I would have assumed a few years past twenty-two, tall, good-looking and well aware of it, flirtatious and smooth, and I would guess possessed of a strong predilection for the ladies. I hoped Aunt Kitty watched him carefully when he was around Jennie. I didn’t think it would bother him at all to seduce a friend’s sister.
    “So much intelligence in such a small package would intimidate any man.”
    “Not any man, Mr. Milford. Only one who recognized in himself a proportionate deficiency of the same quality.” After a small pause all three young men burst out laughing.
    Peter thumped Carl on the shoulder, saying, “See, I told you. No one gets the last word with Johanna.”
    Behind me, Jennie stated mildly, “I missed the joke,” and stepped next to me. I was instantly forgotten by both of Peter’s friends, who eagerly turned their attention to the new arrival. Their easy loss of interest didn’t bother me. They were all younger than I and besides, the men’s reaction was perfectly understandable. I drifted toward the punch table, stopping to greet friends of my grandmother and a few guests from my Aunt Kitty’s side of the family. I didn’t know them well, but if I were not appropriately cordial and attentive, I would certainly hear about it later.
    Reaching the place where Allen still stood, I asked, “Do you know anyone here except me and my family?”
    “Not a soul.”
    “I thought that might be why you took such an unobtrusive spot by the punch bowl, poor man. Are you sorry you came?”
    “Not at all.” At my questioning look, he added with a straight face, “Your aunt promised a buffet.”
    I laughed.