AS CLAIRE AND the kids exited left, Emily and Bart entered right.

They looked great together, my lawyer and doctor from the big city. Bart wore a dark black suit, a black shirt, and a dark silver tie. His hair was slicked back in that way that only handsome guys can get away with.

Emily was not to be outdone. She looked like a model. No jewelry (she hated fussy stuff). Her hair was pinned tightly on top of her head—simple and severe, what she called a no-nonsense do. Midlength black skirt. Dark gray cashmere sweater. Black jacket. The only thing about Emily that wasn’t high fashion was the big smile on her face.

She picked up the mike and said, “My mom told us not to come dressed as dreary New Yorkers. So!” She signaled the band, put down the mike, and suddenly the music came blaring out at us—“Jingle Bells,” played in a bump-and-grind tempo.

Now the show went into another gear.

Emily pulled the pins from her hair, and down it flowed in waves around her shoulders. She removed her jacket, showing bare shoulders and arms. Bart shucked off his jacket. Spun it in the air like a Chippendale dancer and dropped it casually on the floor. Maybe this was how he worked his way through med school?

The catcalls and applause were growing. Emily pulled her sweater up and over her head, exposing a pair of red spaghetti straps attached to a minimal amount of glittery red silk.

When she turned around to show the audience the back, well…there was no back. Over to Bart. He unbuttoned his black shirt to reveal a tight, copper-colored T-shirt. He put his black jacket back on, then unbuckled his belt. His black pants fell to the floor, and he was wearing very snug-fitting black-and-white slacks, hemmed so high that the red-and-copper-colored socks momentarily made it look as if he were wearing knickers.

By this time, all eyes were back on Emily. She’d let her skirt drop to the floor. Underneath was the remainder of her dress—a similarly silky, glittery piece of cloth that came to midthigh.

Now Bart picked up the mike. “Like Em said, Gaby warned us not to come dressed as dull working drones from Manhattan,” he said.

“I hope we succeeded, Mom,” Emily said, giving a little hip bump on “Mom.”

The applause was as hot and crazy as the wardrobe. Emily and Bart came to the table for hugs. Within seconds, the whole family was there—grandkids, crazy reindeer, Claire, Liz and Mike (without a cane). Then a chant went up around the room:

“Speech! Speech! Speech! Get up there, Gaby.”

“Who, me?” said little Gabrielle.