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She felt her eyes widen at the expansive foyer that greeted them. White marble flooring, a glimmering chandelier, and an imposing round table in the center that must have cost more than her monthly mortgage payment.

“This way.” Oblivious to her mute awe, Sam led the way across the room and into the kitchen.

The enormous kitchen was almost more than Arden’s senses could take in at once. It was all bright marble surfaces, appliances that looked foreign in their elegance, and people scurrying around setting up food stations. She realized her heart was pounding. What on earth am I doing here?

Sam set down his doughnut boxes on the gleaming countertop, then took hers from her arms. She felt naked without her doughnut box shield.

“Oh, thank you, you wonderful boy!” A fast-moving, Chanel-scented woman with stiffly coiffed auburn hair launched herself at Sam and peppered his cheeks with kisses.

“No problem, Mom.” Sam stepped back and removed a backpack from his shoulders. “I brought the speaker, too.”

“Wonderful. Ethan!” she barked over her shoulder. An older, broader version of Sam with a receding hairline strode into the room. She instructed him to set up the music.

“Mom, this is my friend Arden.” Sam gestured toward Arden, who realized she had backed up against the refrigerator. “Arden, my mom, Donna.”

Donna’s brows flicked up in the slightest expression of surprise before she warmly clasped Arden’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you. You have a beautiful home.” Arden second-guessed her words at once, almost as if by admitting that the house was beautiful, she was somehow revealing that she had no business being in a house like this. But she had no time to dwell on her remark, because Donna had already spun off to answer Ethan’s call for help in setting up the music.

Sam turned to her and clapped his hands. “So—”

“Sam!” Donna and Ethan shouted at the same time.

“Oh—I better—” Sam pointed at them and hurried off.

Arden hugged herself. The catering staff finished their preparations and began circulating with trays of hors d’oeuvres as guests trickled in. After a few minutes, it was not so much a trickle as a swarm. First came the older crowd, who were clearly business associates and friends of Sam’s parents. After them, younger guests began to arrive, who Arden guessed were friends of Sam and his siblings or the grown children of some of the older folks, based on how they greeted each other with enthusiastic hugs. Some came in pairs, some in family units with kids in tow. The vibe became a little looser. Arden realized that Sam was right about her black dress: She blended in perfectly with the other guests. Sam was still occupied with his brother, apparently having some technical difficulties with the speaker. Donna was swanning around with—Arden guessed—Sam’s dad on her arm, saying hello to their guests.

A server offered a tray of tiny fried pancakes—latkes, Arden was pretty sure—each with a dollop of sour cream and chives on top. Arden took two and held them on a little napkin as she took in the decorations around her. There were tasteful blue and silver balloons in each corner. Every table was dressed in a dark blue tablecloth decorated with embroidered silver dreidels and menorahs. A console table against one window was covered in a dozen menorahs, from an antique silver one to a modern one made of wavy wrought iron to a ceramic one that looked to have been hand-painted by children. Arden wondered if Sam and his siblings had made it.

She had just started on her second latke—the fried carbs calmed her down instantly—when Sam approached.

“I’m so sorry that took so long. It’s like, no matter what you do, setting up anything at your parents’ place will always result in technical difficulties.”

“No worries.” Arden felt suddenly as light as one of those silver balloons. It wasn’t like she’d thought Sam would abandon her here, but it was a huge relief to have his attention directed at her once again.

“How’s the food? Good?” Sam looked around, hoping to catch a server’s eye. He obtained several mini egg-roll-looking things and handed her one. “Blintzes. They have some creamy, cheesy stuff inside.”

Arden devoured it.

“Let’s grab some drinks.”

Sam led the way to the bar that had been set up in the next room. They each took a signature cocktail from a tray on the bar. It was called Spin the Dreidel, and it had a swirl of blue among the yellow liquid.

Sam smacked his lips at the first taste.

“Sour,” Arden commented. “But yummy.”

“My mom does a different Hanukkah-themed cocktail every year. Last year’s was some kind of chocolate martini—for chocolate gelt? This one is better.”

They slowly meandered into the crowd. Arden felt steadier with a drink in her hand.

“Do you know most of these people?” she asked.

Sam shrugged. “Maybe half. There are some of my parents’ friends that we’ve known forever.” He tilted his head toward hers and nodded in the direction of a white-haired couple loading their plates with food. “The Gilberts. And the Weisses.” He indicated a tall man and a curly-haired woman telling a story that was making the people around her laugh uproariously.

“And my aunt Kay and uncle Cal.” He pointed to a couple talking to his mom.

“Kay and Cal?”