Baby proof

'Hey, Zoe!' I call out. 'Are you coming to spend the weekend with me?'

'Uh-huh!' she yells back. 'And Mommy said I can stay up as late as I want and eat whatever I want.'

I look at Maura to make sure this is accurate. My sister shrugs wearily. She looks drawn and forlorn-like she doesn't have the energy to fight about bedtime and sugar cereals. I wonder if this is the beginning of the divorced- parents 'pay off your kids' phenomenon. All kids know that the only fringe benefit of having parents who split up is that you can play on mom and dad's guilt, exhaustion, and competitive spirit to extract maximum benefits from both camps. I remember how my own Christmas presents doubled in number and value after my mother left.

Zoe lets go of Maura's hand and scrambles toward me. I bend down to double-knot her laces. Then I kiss her cold, rosy cheek and whisper in her ear, 'Guess what I got you?'

'What?' Zoe says excitedly.

'Pop-Tarts!'

Strawberry Pop-Tarts are Zoe's favorite food-but she's only allowed to have them on special occasions. Until now, Maura's been all about organic foods.

'What flavor?' Zoe asks excitedly.

'Strawberry. With frosting and sprinkles,' I say. 'Dub!'

Zoe beams. It's so nice to be able to please someone so easily. I just wish I could fix Maura's problems, too. I stand and put my arms around my sister. I can feel her ribs and the sharpness of her shoulder blades through her Burberry trench coat. 'You're so bony, Maura,' I say. 'I'm worried about you…'

Maura sighs and touches her cheekbone. 'I know. I look haggard, don't I?'

'You don't look haggard,' I say. 'Just… too thin. You need to take care of yourself-'

'It's funny,' Maura says. 'Until this week I always believed that you could never be too rich or too thin… Now, I'm not so sure… I'd rather be poor, fat, and happy…'

Zoe interrupts and says, 'Is Jess home, too? Can I try on her shoes?'

'Why, of course! All one hundred pairs!' I say, thinking that if I'm a B-list celebrity in Zoe's eyes, Jess is Madonna. Even a six-year-old can sniff out gradations of beauty and style.

Maura glances at her Cartier watch and sighs. 'Okay. The boys are at Daphne's… Scott's expecting me at eight… I better get home.'

'Good luck,' I say. Then I touch her arm and tell her I love her. It's something Maura and I rarely say to each other, although we never question it.

'I love you, too, Claudia. Thank you,' Maura says. Then she kneels in front of her daughter and brushes her hair away from her face. 'And I love you, pumpkin.'

'I love you, Mommy,' Zoe says, hugging her mother around the neck.

'Be good for Aunt Claudia,' she says.

'I will, Mommy.'

Maura smiles at her daughter. Then she stands and faces me.

'Call me when you can,' I say.

She nods, turns, and walks swiftly toward her silver Range Rover, her high-heeled boots clicking on the sidewalk. I watch her for a few seconds, feeling overwhelmed by worry. Her weekend ahead makes my upcoming lunch date at Pete's Tavern seem like a trivial encounter. I guess that's the impact three innocent children have in the equation.

When I look down at Zoe, I see that she, too, looks concerned. She is squinting as she watches her mother start the car and pull away from the curb. Maura waves and gives us a little honk. Zoe waves back and mouths, 'Bye, Mommy.'

I've never seen my niece look so sad and wonder if it's because she senses that something is wrong-or if it's only that she's still a little young to be away from home for two nights. I tousle her hair and say, 'Ready to get out of the cold, Zoe Doughy?'

She nods and says, 'Aunt Claudia?' Her voice rises into a high-pitched question.

'Yeah, honey?' I say, nervous of what she might ask.

Sure enough, she asks one of her trademark questions: 'Why is Mommy so sad?'

So I give her one of my stellar answers: 'Mommies get sad sometimes. That's all…'

Zoe sighs and then says, 'She said the s-h word in the car yesterday. And then she cried.'

'Mommies say bad words sometimes. And they get upset sometimes,' I say. 'But she'll be fine. Everything will be fine.'

'Do you promise?' she says, her blue eyes big with worry.

I panic, wondering what the right answer is. Is it right for me to make such a promise? What constitutes fine? I certainly don't want to lie to Zoe. I have a sudden memory of one troubling Family Feud episode I watched when I was about seven. The final, bonus-round question was 'Top five lies your parents told you.' I remember racking my brain, trying to come up with something, while the Johnson family ripped off answers with ease. Survey Says… Santa Claus! Easter Bunny! Tooth Fairy! It was a devastating moment. In part because I had discovered a sad truth about my favorite trio, but also because I had just received a handwritten letter from the North Pole-a letter I now knew to be bogus. I ripped it off my bulletin board and confronted my parents about their lies.

Still, I think carefully about Zoe's question and decide that things will be fine. So I say, 'Yes, Zoe. I promise you.'

She gives me a hopeful smile. Then she slides her small hand into mine and says, 'Can we go eat Pop-Tarts now? For dinner?'

'Great idea,' I say. 'Pop-Tarts for dinner. And Pop-Tarts for dessert!'

'And for appetizers?' she says.

'Yup. For appetizers, too,' I say, smiling. 'What could be better than that?'

As Zoe and I are finishing our elegant three-course meal of strawberry Pop-Tarts, Jess returns home from work. She and Zoe hug and kiss hello as I discreetly ask her if Michael will be coming over later. She shakes her head and says she wants to hang with us. I am happy about this as I wasn't sure how to explain an unwed sleepover to Zoe. To this point, Zoe turns to Jess and says, 'Who's Michael? Your boyfriend?'

'Yeah,' Jess says, smiling. 'He is.'

Zoe fires back with, 'Do you love him?'

Jess looks at me and laughs.

'She cuts to the chase,' I say.

'What's that mean?' Zoe says.

'You ask very good questions,' I say.

'Oh,' Zoe says, and then returns her expectant gaze to Jess.

'Yeah,' Jess says. 'I do love him.'

'Why?' Zoe says.

'Well. He's smart. And nice. And funny. And very, very handsome.'

Zoe's pale brow furrows as she processes this data. Then she asks the question we all have wondered. 'Are you going to marry him?'

Jess finally looks stumped. 'Hmm. Well, Zoe, I don't know. We'll see.'

'When will we see?'

'I don't know. It's hard to tell.'

'Why is it hard to tell?'

'Well, because sometimes you love someone but they might not be the right person for you. That takes some time to figure out,' Jess explains, much better than I could have.

'I hope you marry your boyfriend,' Zoe says. 'That would be really romantic.'

'That would be romantic,' Jess says. 'Let's make a wish for a happy ending.'

Zoe closes her eyes and makes a silent wish. When she opens them, she is solemn. 'Uncle Ben and Aunt Claudia got a dee-vorce,' she says as if I'm not in the room.

'I know,' Jess says, without looking at me.

'But she loved Uncle Ben,' Zoe says and then looks at me. 'Right, Aunt Claudia?'