Julia

The doorbell rang suddenly, a short, respectful ring. Smith was still sitting on Juliet’s lap, his head on her wife’s shoulder. Juliet raised an eyebrow. “Who are we waiting for?”

Smith shrugged. “Not that I know of.” She rose reluctantly, her wool socks slipping on the wood floor, and walked to the door. She turned the knob.

Standing in front of the door was Julia; Juliet’s older sister. 38 years old, 174 cm tall, 78 kg. Dark gray formal coat, knee-length skirt, shiny black pantyhose, and four-inch black heels that still ticked down the hallway. She held her leather handbag in both hands in front of her, as neat and tidy as ever.

Smith: “Julia?! Hello… …”

Julia smiled; a warm smile, but with the same orderliness. “Hello, little Smith.” Her voice was quiet, but she drew out the word “little” with a certain pleasure, as if she already knew how much Smith loved the feeling. “Juliet is home?”

From behind Smith, Juliet’s voice came, “Julia? Why didn’t you tell me?” Juliet came with quick steps, still a little dazed from the interrupted lapsitting.

Julia set her bag on the console table, carefully removed her heels, and patted her socks on the wood floor. “My trip to Bozeman got canceled, I said I’d come see you. I know I surprised you, but…” Her gaze fell on Smith, who was still standing by the door, shy and a little red. “…I thought maybe the good boy of the house would like a little more hug.”

Juliet smiled, a smile that betrayed her happiness. “You always arrive like this, don’t you?”

Julia laughed and walked over to Smith. She held out her hand, her fingers warm and reassuring. “Come here, darling.” Smith took it reluctantly. Julia pulled her toward the couch, sat down, and with a smooth, practiced movement, she placed Smith on her lap. Smith’s 120 pounds seemed like nothing to Julia. “Oh, you’re so light! It’s like I’m holding a feather.”

Smith laughed sheepishly, but he rested his head on Julia’s shoulder. The scent of her perfume—something like vanilla and sandalwood—was soothing. Julia wrapped her arm around his waist, running her thumb gently along Smith’s spine. “Now tell me, what did you design today? Juliet said you had a new country house.”

Juliet sat down on the couch opposite, crossed her legs, and looked at them. “You always know how to play the role of mommy, don’t you?”

Julia winked. “It’s practice, sister. You’ll understand one day.” Then she looked at Smith and lowered her voice a little, like a lullaby: “Are you okay, my good boy?”

Smith just nodded, his eyes half-closed. Julia rocked him a little, like a cradle. “Juliet, do you have any tea? I’m tired, and this little one seems to be falling asleep.”

Juliet got up, but before she left, she stroked Smith’s head. “Just don’t spoil him too much.”

Julia laughed. “I don’t promise.”

The fireplace was still lit, the logs crackling. Smith relaxed on Julia’s lap, in the arms of her careful and kind mother. Juliet could hear the sound of cups clinking from the kitchen. The Helena, Montana, night had become warmer and more intimate now with three people.