Author Bio

Susan Mallery is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of novels about the relationships that define women’s lives—romance, friendship, family. With compassion and humour, Susan keenly observes how people think and feel, in stories that take readers on an emotional journey. Sometimes heartbreaking, often funny and always uplifting, Susan’s books have spent more than 200 weeks on the USA TODAY bestseller list, thanks to her ever-growing legions of fans.

Susan lives in Seattle with her husband, two ragdoll cats and a tattletale toy poodle. Animals play a big role in her books, as well, as she believes they’re an integral component to a happy life.

FALL IN LOVE WITH #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR SUSAN MALLERY

‘The perfect feel-good read’

Sarah Morgan on You Say It First

‘Susan Mallery is one of my favourites.’

#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber

[You Say it First] ‘has the author’s signature blend of humor, poignancy, and small-town charm.’

Booklist

‘The romance is sweet and hot, the writing is quick and easy… A great choice for a weekend read.’

Kirkus Reviews on You Say it First

‘A heartfelt and genuine friends-to-lovers story fraught with emotional trauma that makes the happily-ever-after satisfyingly sweet… Sharp, well-drawn characters and a naughty beagle add depth to the story.’

Publishers Weekly on Second Chance Girl

‘You can always count on Mallery to deliver warmhearted and quirky stories featuring emotionally dented individuals doing their best to survive and hopefully thrive… A truly unforgettable read! Mallery is one of a kind!’

RT Book Reviews, Top Pick! On Second Chance Girl

The Friendship List

Susan Mallery

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN:978-1-474-09910-3

The Friendship List

© 2020 Susan Mallery, Inc.

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

I had the best time writing this book—seriously, it was just plain fun from start to finish. I love the relationship between Ellen and Unity. They made me laugh and cry and I was so excited to learn what happened next. It seemed there was a surprise around every corner.

In the spirit of surprises…I’m dedicating this book to six lovely readers.

Brenda R., Cindy G., Courtney T., Nicole W., Teresa B., Zina O.

As many of you know, I’m a huge supporter of animal welfare, and my favorite organization is Seattle Humane. In the summer of 2019, Seattle Humane asked me to help them with an upcoming project—using “Bad Poetry Month” to drive awareness of pets looking for a home. I asked my Facebook friends to pitch in and we all wrote some very fun poetry in support of those pets.

From all the submissions, Brenda, Cindy, Courtney, Nicole, Teresa and Zina had their poems chosen to be featured. And to give them an extra thank-you (and a surprise!) I’m dedicating this book to them.

So, my friends, this one is for you.

Also available from Susan Mallery And Mills & Boon

You Say it First

Second Chance Girl

Why Not Tonight

Not Quite Over You

The Summer of Sunshine & Margot

Meant to be Yours

The Friendship List

For a complete list of titles available from Susan Mallery, please visit www.SusanMallery.com

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Reader’s Guide

Questions for Discussion

About the Publisher

One

“I should have married money,” Ellen Fox said glumly. “That would have solved all my problems.”

Unity Leandre, her best friend, practically since birth, raised her eyebrows. “Because that was an option so many times and you kept saying no?”

“It could have been. Maybe. If I’d ever, you know, met a rich guy I liked and wanted to marry.”

“Wouldn’t having him want to marry you be an equally important part of the equation?”

Ellen groaned. “This is not a good time for logic. This is a good time for sympathy. Or giving me a winning lottery ticket. We’ve been friends for years and you’ve never once given me a winning lottery ticket.”

Unity picked up her coffee and smiled. “True, but I did give you my pony rides when we celebrated our eighth birthdays.”

A point she would have to concede, Ellen thought. With their birthdays so close together, they’d often had shared parties. The summer they’d turned eight, Unity’s mom had arranged for pony rides at a nearby farm. Unity had enjoyed herself, but Ellen had fallen in love with scruffy Mr. Peepers, the crabby old pony who carried them around the paddock. At Ellen’s declaration of affection for the pony, Unity had handed over the rest of her ride tickets, content to watch Ellen on Mr. Peepers’s wide back.

“You were wonderful about the pony rides,” Ellen said earnestly. “And I love that you were so generous. But right now I really need a small fortune. Nothing overwhelming. Just a tasteful million or so. In return, I’ll give back the rides on Mr. Peepers.”

Unity reached across the kitchen table and touched Ellen’s arm. “He really wants to go to UCLA?”

Ellen nodded, afraid if she spoke, she would whimper. After sucking in a breath, she managed to say, “He does. Even with a partial scholarship, the price is going to kill me.” She braced herself for the ugly reality. “Out-of-state costs, including room and board, are about sixty-four thousand dollars.” Ellen felt her heart skip a beat and not out of excitement. “A year. A year! I don’t even bring home that much after taxes. Who has that kind of money? It might as well be a million dollars.”

Unity nodded. “Okay, now marrying money makes sense.”

“I don’t have a lot of options.” Ellen pressed her hand to her chest and told herself she wasn’t having a heart attack. “You know I’d do anything for Coop and I’ll figure this out, but those numbers are terrifying. I have to start buying lottery scratchers and get a second job.” She looked at Unity. “How much do you think they make at Starbucks? I could work nights.”

Unity, five inches taller, with long, straight blond hair, grabbed her hands. “Last month it was University of Oklahoma and the month before that, he wanted to go to Notre Dame. Cooper has changed his mind a dozen times. Wait until you go look at colleges this summer and he figures out what he really wants, then see who offers the best financial aid before you panic.” Her mouth curved up in a smile. “No offense, Ellen, but I’ve tasted your coffee. You shouldn’t be working anywhere near a Starbucks.”

“Very funny.” Ellen squeezed her hands. “You’re right. He’s barely seventeen. He won’t be a senior until September. I have time. And I’m saving money every month.”

It was how she’d been raised, she thought. To be practical, to take responsibility. If only her parents had thought to mention marrying for money.

“After our road trip, he may decide he wants to go to the University of Washington after all, and that would solve all my problems.”

Not just the money ones, but the loneliness ones, she thought wistfully. Because after eighteen years of them being a team, her nearly grown-up baby boy was going to leave her.

“Stop,” Unity said. “You’re getting sad. I can see it.”

“I hate that you know me so well.”

“No, you don’t.”

Ellen sighed. “No, I don’t, but you’re annoying.”

“You’re more annoying.”

They smiled at each other.

Unity stood, all five feet ten of her, and stretched. “I have to get going. You have young minds to mold and I have a backed-up kitchen sink to deal with, followed by a gate repair and something with a vacuum. The message wasn’t clear.” She looked at Ellen. “You going to be okay?”

Ellen nodded. “I’m fine. You’re right. Coop will change his mind fifteen more times. I’ll wait until it’s a sure thing, then have my breakdown.”

“See. You always have a plan.”

They walked to the front door. Ellen’s mind slid back to the ridiculous cost of college.

“Any of those old people you help have money?” she asked. “For the right price, I could be a trophy wife.”

Unity shook her head. “You’re thirty-four. The average resident of Silver Pines is in his seventies.”

“Marrying money would still solve all my problems.”

Unity hugged her, hanging on tight for an extra second. “You’re a freak.”

“I’m a momma bear with a cub.”

“Your cub is six foot three. It’s time to stop worrying.”

“That will never happen.”

“Which is why I love you. Talk later.”

Ellen smiled. “Have a good one. Avoid spiders.”

“Always.”

When Unity had driven away, Ellen returned to the kitchen where she quickly loaded the dishwasher, then packed her lunch. Cooper had left before six. He was doing some end-of-school-year fitness challenge. Something about running and Ellen wasn’t sure what. To be honest, when he went on about his workouts, it was really hard not to tune him out. Especially when she had things like tuition to worry about.

“Not anymore today,” she said out loud. She would worry again in the morning. Unity was right—Cooper was going to keep changing his mind. Their road trip to look at colleges was only a few weeks away. After that they would narrow the list and he would start to apply. Only then would she know the final number and have to figure out how to pay for it.

Until then she had plenty to keep her busy. She was giving pop quizzes in both fourth and sixth periods and she wanted to update her year-end tests for her two algebra classes. She needed to buy groceries and put gas in the car and go by the library to get all her summer reading on the reserve list.

As she finished her morning routine and drove to the high school where she taught, Ellen thought about Cooper and the college issue. While she was afraid she couldn’t afford the tuition, she had to admit it was a great problem to have. Seventeen years ago, she’d been a terrified teenager, about to be a single mom, with nothing between her and living on the streets except incredibly disappointed and angry parents who had been determined to make her see the error of her ways.

Through hard work and determination, she’d managed to pull herself together—raise Cooper, go to college, get a good job, buy a duplex and save money for her kid’s education. Yay her.

But it sure would have been a lot easier if she’d simply married someone with money.

“How is it possible to get a C-in Spanish?” Coach Keith Kinne asked, not bothering to keep his voice down. “Half the population in town speaks Spanish. Hell, your sister’s husband is Hispanic.” He glared at the strapping football player standing in front of him. “Luka, you’re an idiot.”

Luka hung his head. “Yes, Coach.”

“Don’t ‘yes, Coach’ me. You knew this was happening—you’ve known for weeks. And did you ask for help? Did you tell me?”

“No, Coach.”

Keith thought about strangling the kid but he wasn’t sure he could physically wrap his hands around the teen’s thick neck. He swore silently, knowing they were where they were and now he had to fix things—like he always did with his students.

“You know the rules,” he pointed out. “To play on any varsity team you have to get a C+ or better in every class. Did you think the rules didn’t apply to you?”

Luka, nearly six-five and two hundred and fifty pounds, slumped even more. “I thought I was doing okay.”

“Really? So you’d been getting better grades on your tests?”

“Not exactly.” He raised his head, his expression miserable. “I thought I could pull up my grade at the last minute.”

“How did that plan work out?”

“No bueno.”

Keith glared at him. “You think this is funny?”

“No, Coach.”

Keith shook his head. “You know there’s not a Spanish summer school class. That means we’re going to have to find an alternative.”

Despite his dark skin, Luka went pale. “Coach, don’t send me away.”

“No one gets sent away.” Sometimes athletes went to other districts that had a different summer curriculum. They stayed with families and focused on their studies.

“I need to stay with my family. My mom understands me.”

“It would be better for all of us if she understood Spanish.” Keith glared at the kid. “I’ll arrange for an online class. You’ll get a tutor. You will report to me twice a week, bringing me updates until you pass the class.” He sharpened his gaze. “With an A.”

Luka took a step back. “Coach, no! An A? I can’t.”

“Not with that attitude.”

“But, Coach.”

“You knew the rules and you broke them. You could have come to me for help early on. You know I’m always here for any of my students, but did you think about that or did you decide you were fine on your own?”

“I decided I was fine on my own,” Luka mumbled.

“Exactly. And deciding on your own is not how teams work. You go it alone and you fail.”

Tears filled Luka’s eyes. “Yes, Coach.”

Keith pointed to the door. Luka shuffled out. Keith sank into his chair. He’d been hard on the kid, but he needed to get the message across. Grades mattered. He was willing to help whenever he could, but he had to be told what was going on. He had a feeling Luka thought because he was a star athlete he was going to get special treatment. Maybe somewhere else, but not here. Forcing Luka to get an A sent a message to everyone who wanted to play varsity sports.

He’d barely turned to his computer when one of the freshman boys stuck his head in the office. “Coach Kinne! Coach Kinne! There’s a girl crying in the weight room.”

Keith silently groaned as he got up and jogged to the weight room, hoping he was about to deal with something simple like a broken arm or a concussion. He knew what to do for those kinds of things. Anything that was more emotional, honest to God, terrified him.

He walked into the weight room and found a group of guys huddled together. A petite, dark-haired girl he didn’t know sat on a bench at the far end, her hands covering her face, her sobs audible in the uneasy silence.

He looked at the guys. “She hurt?”

They shifted their weight and shook their heads. Damn. So it wasn’t physical. Why didn’t things ever go his way?

“Any of you responsible for whatever it is?” he asked.

More shaken heads with a couple of guys ducking out.

Keith pointed to the door so the rest of them left, then returned his attention to the crying girl. She was small and looked young. Maybe fifteen. Not one of his daughter’s friends or a school athlete—he knew all of them.

He approached the teen, trying to look friendly rather than menacing, then sat on a nearby bench.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I’m Coach Kinne.”

She sniffed. Her eyes were red, her skin pale. “I know who you are.”

“What’s going on?” Don’t be pregnant, don’t be pregnant, he chanted silently.

More tears spilled over. “I’m pregnant. The father is Dylan, only he says he’s not, and I can’t tell my m-mom because she’ll be so mad and he said he l-loved me.”

And just like that Keith watched his Monday fall directly into the crapper.

Keith left work exactly at three fifteen. He would be returning to his office to finish up paperwork, supervise a couple of workouts and review final grades for athletes hovering on the edge of academic problems. But first, he had pressing personal business.

He drove the two short miles to his house, walked inside and headed directly for his seventeen-year-old daughter’s room.

Lissa looked up from her laptop when he entered, her smile fading as she figured out he was in a mood. Despite the attitude, she was a beauty. Long dark hair, big brown eyes. Dammit all to hell—why couldn’t he have an ugly daughter who no guy would look at twice?

“Hi, Dad,” she said, sounding wary. “What’s up?”

“Spot check.”

She rolled her eyes. “Seriously? There is something wrong with you. I heard what happened at school today. I’m not dumb enough to date a guy like Dylan who would tell a tree stump he loved it if it would have sex with him. I’m not sleeping with anyone and I’m not pregnant. I told you—I’m not ready to have sex, as in I’m still a virgin. You’re obsessed. Would you feel better if I wore a chastity belt?”

“Yes, but you won’t. I’ve asked.”

“Da-ad. Why are you like this? Pregnancy isn’t the worst thing that could happen. I could be sick and dying. Wouldn’t that be terrible?”

“You can’t win this argument with logic. I’m irrational. I accept that. But I’m also the parent, so you have to deal with me being irrational.”

He pointed to her bathroom. She sighed the long-suffering sigh of those cursed with impossible fathers and got up. He followed her to the doorway and watched as she pulled the small plastic container out of the bathroom drawer and opened it.

Relief eased the tension in his body. Pills were missing. The right number of pills.

“You are a nightmare father,” his daughter said, shoving the pills back in the drawer. “I can’t wait until I’m eighteen and I can get the shot instead of having to take birth control pills. Then you’ll only bug me every few months.”

“I can’t wait, either.”

“It’s not like I even have a boyfriend.”

“You could be talking to someone online.”

Her annoyance faded as she smiled at him. “Dad, only one of us in this house does the online dating thing and it’s not me.”

“I don’t online date.”

“Fine. You pick up women online, then go off and have sex with them for the weekend. It’s gross. You should fall in love with someone you’re not embarrassed to bring home to meet me.”

“I’m not embarrassed. I just don’t want complications.”

“But you do want to have sex. It’s yucky.”

“Then why are we talking about it?” He pulled her close and hugged her, then kissed the top of her head. “Sorry, Lissa. I can’t help worrying about you.”

She looked up at him. “Dad, I’m taking my pills every day, not that it matters because I’m not having sex. I’m not. I’ve barely kissed a guy. Having you as my father makes it really difficult to date. Guys don’t want to mess with you and risk being beat up.”

“Good.”

She smiled even as she hit him in the arm. “You’re repressing my emotional growth.”

“Just don’t get pregnant.”

“You need to find a more positive message. How about ‘be your best self’?”

“That, too. Gotta go.”

“I’m having dinner with Jessie tonight. Remember?”

“No problem. Be home by ten.”

He got back in his truck but before starting the engine, he quickly texted Ellen. I need a couple of beers and a friendly ear. You around tonight?

The response came quickly. Only if you bring fried chicken. I have beer and ice cream.

You’re on. See you at six.

Ellen couldn’t figure out why a six-foot-five-inch, seventeen-year-old guy crying bothered her more than pretty much any teenage girl crying. Was it reverse sexual discrimination? Because boys cried less often, their tears had more value? Was it the sheer size of Luka juxtaposed with the implied vulnerability of tears? As she was unlikely to figure out an answer, she decided to ignore the question.

“Luka, you’re going to be fine,” she said, reaching up to pat the teen on his shoulder as Cooper hovered nearby. “You’ll take the online Spanish class and you’ll do great. You’re plenty smart. You just got complacent.”

“He thought because he’s such a hotshot on the field, his shit didn’t stink,” Coop said, then groaned. “Sorry, Mom. Um, I meant to say, ah, poop.”

She turned to her son and raised her eyebrows. She was pleased that, despite his age and size, he took a step back and swallowed.

“I’m really sorry,” he added.

“As you should be. Luka, Coach isn’t throwing you off the bus.”

“You didn’t see him. He was really mad. He said I was an idiot.”

Not exactly the word she would have chosen, but then she didn’t spend much time in the jock/jockette world.

“You’re a leader, so he expects better of you.”

More tears filled Luka’s eyes. Next to him, Coop winced.

“What if I can’t get an A?”

“You won’t with that attitude.”

Luka sniffed. “That’s what Coach said.”

Cooper leaned close. “It’s a teacher thing. They think alike. Welcome to my world.”

She did her best not to smile. Her boys, she thought fondly. Cooper and his friends had been running in and out of her life since he’d been old enough to invite kids back to play. Luka had been a staple in her life for nearly a decade. He and his family had moved here from Yap (a tiny island in Micronesia—she’d had to look it up). Luka and Coop had met the first day of second grade and been best friends ever since.

“Luka, I forbid you to think about this anymore today. Your mom is waiting for you. Go have a nice dinner and relax this evening. Tomorrow, get your butt in gear and get going on the Spanish studies.” She hesitated. “I’ll talk to Coach and make sure you’re still on the college trip.”

His dark eyes brightened. “You will? Thanks, Ms. F. That would be great.”

Before she could step back, Luka grabbed her and lifted her up in the air. It was not a comfortable feeling, but all of Coop’s friends seemed to do it. He swung her around twice before setting her down. Both teens headed for the door.

“I’ll be back by ten,” Coop yelled over his shoulder.

“Have fun.”

Ellen gave herself a little shake to make sure nothing had been crushed, then stepped out on her small deck to check out the heat level. The front of the house faced south, leaving the backyard in shade in the early evening. The temperature was close to eighty, but bearable.

The deck overlooked a small patch of lawn edged by fencing. Nothing fancy, but it was hers and she loved it. She quickly wiped off the metal table and dusted the chairs before putting out placemats, plenty of paper napkins and a cut-up lime. She’d already made a green salad to counteract the calories from the fried chicken. Shortly after six, she heard a knock on the front door, followed by a familiar voice calling, “It’s me.”

“In the kitchen,” she yelled as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of beer. Dos Equis for him and a Corona for herself. She glared when she saw the extra to-go container in his hand.

“What?” she demanded. “We agreed on chicken.”

He held up the KFC bucket. “I brought chicken. Original, because you like it.”

“Don’t distract me. Are those potatoes? I can’t eat those.”

“Actually you can. I’ve seen you. You have no trouble using a fork.”

She set his beer on the table. “Do you know how many calories are in those mashed potatoes? I’m not some macho athletic guy.”

Keith gave her an unapologetic smile. “I’d still be friends with you if you were.” He set down the food. “Stop worrying about it. You look fine.” He glanced at her. “As far as anyone can tell.”

She ignored that and refused to look down at her oversize tunic and baggy pants. “I like to be comfortable. Loose clothing allows me to move freely on the job.” She ducked back into the house to get the salad, then joined him at the table.

He’d already taken his usual seat and opened both to-go containers. The smell of fried chicken reminded her she hadn’t eaten since lunch, which felt like two days ago. Her stomach growled and her mouth watered.

Keith put a chicken breast on her plate, then handed her the mashed potatoes. She put slices of lime in both their beers. Their movements were familiar. Comfortable.

Coach Keith Kinne and his daughter had moved to Willowbrook five years ago. He’d joined the faculty of Birchly High as the football coach and athletic director. Washington State might not have the religious fever of Texas when it came to high school football, but there was still a lot of enthusiasm and the six-foot-two-inch, good-looking, dark-haired former NFL player had caught a lot of ladies’ attention.

Not hers, though. Mostly because she didn’t date—there wasn’t time and no one she met was ever that interesting. So when she’d found him cornered by a slightly aggressive novice teacher from the English department, Ellen had stepped in to save him and their friendship had been born. They hung out together because it was easy and they complemented each other. He’d helped her when she’d bought a new-to-her car a couple of years ago and she went Christmas shopping with him for his daughter.

“Why are you smiling?” he asked, picking up his beer.

“Just thinking that it’s nice we’re friends. Imagine how awkward things would have been if I’d gone after you when you first moved here.”

He frowned. “Don’t say that. If you had, we might not be friends now. I was fresh off a divorce and I wasn’t looking for trouble.”

“I’m not trouble.”

“You would have been if we’d dated.”

What on earth did he mean? “Trouble how?”

“You know. Boy-girl trouble.” He put down his beer. “Speaking of dating, Lissa got on me about my internet relationships.”

“You don’t have internet relationships. You find women to have sex with.”

He winced. “That’s what she said. Have you two been talking about me behind my back?”

“Oh, please. We have so many more interesting things to talk about.” She’d never understood the appeal of casual sex. It seemed so impersonal. Shouldn’t that level of intimacy be part of a relationship? Otherwise sex was just as romantic as passing gas.

“She told me to find someone I wasn’t embarrassed by so she could meet her.”

“That’s nice.”

“It freaked me out.”

Ellen grinned. “That’s because there are emotions attached to relationships and you don’t like emotions.”

“I like some of them. I like winning.”

“Winning isn’t an emotion.”

“Fine. I like how winning makes me feel.” His expression turned smug. “I get emotions.”

“You’re faking it.” She let her smile fade. “Cooper wants to go to UCLA.”

“Are you sure? He told me Stanford.”

She heard a ringing in her ears as her whole world tilted. “W-what? Stanford? No. He can’t.”

“Why not? They have a better wrestling program. I’ve spoken to the coach there and he’s really interested. I’m working on getting Coop a one-on-one meeting when we visit the school. With his skills and grades, he’s got a good shot at getting in.”

“I’m going to faint.”

“Why? You should be happy.”

She glared at him. “Happy? Are you insane? I can’t afford UCLA and it’s a state school. How on earth would I pay for Stanford? Plus, why isn’t Cooper telling me about things like meeting a coach? I should know that.”

“Breathe,” Keith told her. “If he goes to Stanford, you’ll be fine. With what you make, his tuition will be covered. If he gets a partial scholarship, it could go toward room and board. Stanford would be a lot cheaper for you than UCLA.”

Her panic faded. “Are you sure?”

He looked at her. “You have to ask me that?”

“Sorry. Of course you’re sure. You do this all the time.” She picked up her chicken. “Yay, Stanford. Go team.”

“You don’t have any contact with his dad, do you? Because his income would count.”

“No contact,” she said cheerfully. “Jeremy disappeared before Coop was born. I hear from him every five or six years for five seconds and then he’s gone again. He signed his rights away and he’s never given me a penny.” She smiled. “I say that without bitterness because I’m loving the Stanford dream.”

Keith grinned. “You’re saying you can be bought for the price of tuition?”

She smiled back at him. “I can be bought for a whole lot less than that. So why didn’t he tell me about wanting to go to Stanford? Why is he keeping secrets?”

“He’s becoming a man. He needs his own dreams and plans.”

“But I’m his mom and he’s my baby boy. Make him stop growing up.”

“Sorry. Not my superpower.”

She remembered what it had been like when Coop had been younger. It had been the two of them against the world. “I miss being the most important person in his life, but you’re right. He needs to make his own way. What are the Stanford colors? Will they look good on me?”

Two

Keith reached for his beer, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Is that going to be part of the decision-making process? How you look in the college colors? Because you care so much about how you look?”

“Hey!” Ellen balled up her napkin and tossed it at him. “I care. Sort of.”

Keith had been around women enough to know this was not a winning line of conversation. When it came to pretty much everything, women had rules men couldn’t possibly understand. He’d often thought that if Ellen put even five minutes into her appearance, she would be chasing men off with a stick. Yet if he mentioned that, he was the bad guy.

Like her clothes. They were always at least two sizes too big. Even when she wasn’t teaching, she wore baggy jeans and oversize T-shirts or sweatshirts. She never put on makeup. Despite having long, wavy dark hair, she never wore it other than in a ponytail or a braid.

Not his rock, he reminded himself. Ellen was his friend and whatever made her happy made him happy, too.

“I’m sure the Stanford colors will be glorious on you,” he told her.

She rolled her eyes. “Glorious? Is that the best you could come up with?”

“It is.”

“Fine. Tell me about your day.”

He reached for a chicken leg and put it on his plate, then added two more. “I had to deal with another pregnant girl. Why does this keep happening and why do they come to me?”

“In reverse order, they come to you because you’re capable and the odds of the guy involved being an athlete are high. As for why they get pregnant, that’s easy. Men don’t control their sperm.”

He stared at her. “What?”

“Sperm. It’s not the sex that’s the problem.” She waved her beer bottle. “Think about it. Women can have sex all day long and not get pregnant. They can have orgasm after orgasm and nada. It’s all about ejaculation. If the male half of the species made sure that didn’t happen inside women, there would be no unplanned pregnancies. Everyone looks to the girl, but she’s not the one who made it happen. He did.”

Despite the hell that had been his day, Keith chuckled. “You always have a unique perspective.”

“I know. What was it you said? I’m glorious.”

“You are. So if you’re right, then the system is rigged against women, but that doesn’t change the pregnancy outcome.”

Her expression turned sympathetic. “You worry about Lissa too much.”

“Do I? As you just pointed out, she’s one wayward ejaculation away from getting pregnant.”

“She’s on the pill.”

“If she takes them.”

Ellen put her hand on his forearm. “Your daughter doesn’t want to get pregnant, Keith. She’s a smart girl and she’s on birth control. Plus, from what I can tell, she’s not seeing anyone. You know how she gets—once she likes a guy, that’s all she ever talks about. On the boy-girl front, things have been quiet.”

“I hope you’re right. The whole situation makes me crazy.” Lissa was his daughter, his world. He wanted to do everything in his power to make her life perfect.

Ellen reached for the mashed potatoes. “When we’re back from the college bus trip, Lissa and I will be working at the fruit stand for the rest of the summer. I’ll find out what’s going on. Between now and then, she’s busy with school, then she’ll be with you on the bus. She should be perfectly safe. And speaking of the bus trip, I think we’re pretty much done with the details. What do you think?”

“I agree. I’m buying the Disneyland tickets this week,” he said. “The hotel reservations are all made.”

“You’re a good man for doing this.”

He raised one shoulder. “I don’t mind it.”

Since moving to Willowbrook, he’d started taking a group of his athletes on a tour of West Coast colleges. The students spent the school year raising money to pay for gas, hotels rooms and food. Keith made appointments with the various colleges the students were interested in. The trips were about two weeks long, with a few fun stops along the way. This year’s students had decided they wanted to spend an afternoon on the beach in Santa Monica, a day in Disneyland and a day at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. They’d raised enough money and Keith always let them plan the agenda. They would visit a half dozen colleges, see the West Coast and, for many of his students, leave the state for the first time.

“You excited about the trip?” he asked.

Ellen smiled at him. “Excited is strong, but I’m happy to be the bus mom.”

It would be her first time joining him, but with Coop going, she’d volunteered. He was bringing Lissa.

“Too bad it’s only guys,” he said. “I think Lissa would have liked a couple of girls along.”

He always had more students apply than he could manage. In November, he held a drawing with twelve students chosen at random. This year both of the female students who had won a slot had dropped out.

“She’ll have me,” Ellen said. “Plus Coop’s like her brother. And all the guys are scared of you, so no one will bother her.”

“Damn straight they’re scared of me,” he grumbled. “If I catch any of them with my daughter, I will let my fists do the talking.”

She tsked. “Violence? Is that the best you can come up with?”

“When it comes to Lissa, yes.”

They finished dinner and talked for another hour before he helped her clean up. Close to eight, she walked him to the front door.

“Thanks for listening,” he said, hugging her.

“Thanks for the info on Stanford. I’ll sleep easier tonight knowing I just might be able to pay for college.”

She looked up at him as she spoke. As always, her bangs were too long, almost touching her big eyes. She looked impossibly young—as if there was no way she could have a seventeen-year-old son. Only she’d been Lissa’s age when she’d gotten pregnant.

“You did a great job with your kid,” he told her.

“Thank you. Back at you.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t still in high school when she was born. And I had a wife.”

“I had my parents.”

“Hey, I’m trying to pay you a compliment here.”

“Sorry.” She smiled. “Thank you, Coach Kinne.”

“You’re welcome, Ms. Fox.”

She laughed. “See you tomorrow.”

“Always.”

He walked toward his extended cab truck. Despite the hour, the sun still hadn’t set. This time of year, there was a ridiculous amount of daylight in the Pacific Northwest.

As he got behind the wheel, he glanced at the duplex where Ellen lived. She’d told him how when her parents had sold their house and moved to Palm Desert to retire, they’d given her enough money for a down payment on a house. She’d impressed them by buying a duplex instead, so she would have steady income to help her pay down the mortgage.

She’d confessed that she would have preferred a single-family home, but she’d known the duplex was the smarter decision. That was Ellen—always sensible and doing the right thing. She was a good friend, one he could depend on. In some ways, not counting Lissa, Ellen was the best relationship he’d ever had.

“Peter, my youngest, called last night,” Howard said, as he checked his toolbox. “His divorce is final. Maybe you’d like to meet him.”

Unity Leandre stared at the big dry-erase board mounted on the wall of her garage. It was divided into five columns, one for each day of the week. The jobs were listed on the day they would be done, with an arrival time next to them. Every morning she went over the jobs with her team and decided who would do what and how long it should take.

“She doesn’t want to go out with Peter,” Jerry said. “He’s what? In his forties?”

“Forty-five.”

“That’s too old for her. How old are you, Unity?”

“Thirty-four.”

“See?” Jerry sounded triumphant. “That’s too big an age difference. Plus Peter lives in Bellingham. The drive would be at least three hours, maybe four.”

“He’s a good guy,” Howard insisted. “An entrepreneur.”

“He owns a yard mowing service.”

“It’s a landscaping company. They’d have a lot in common.”

Jerry snorted. “Leave the girl alone. She’ll find the right guy on her own. She doesn’t need us butting into her business.”

“I’m not butting, I’m offering to help. Unity, am I butting in?”

Unity put Howard’s initials next to the backed-up drain and Jerry’s by the new shower fixture.

Only then did she turn toward the two seventysomething men who worked for her—part-time, of course. Because being retired didn’t mean a person wasn’t busy. Something she’d learned in the past three years. She had a team of five men working for her—all well over the age of sixty-five, all good at their jobs. Sure, there were times when they couldn’t move as fast as someone younger, but they were skilled, careful and thorough. She would rather the job took a little longer, but was done right. Besides, most of her clients were at the Silver Pines retirement community, so they appreciated having handymen of a certain age around. As for Howard’s youngest and his recent divorce, just no.

She smiled. “You’re not butting, Howard, but I’m also not interested.”

“You haven’t met him yet. What if he’s everything you’ve been looking for?”

Unity shook her head. Three-plus years after Stuart’s death, she wasn’t the least bit interested in finding a replacement.

“I’m sure he’s wonderful,” she said kindly. “Just not for me.”

“It’s because he’s too old, right?” Jerry asked hopefully. He turned to Howard. “I told you to stop butting in.”

The two men were fast friends. They both had gray hair, wrinkled faces and slight beer bellies. Howard was a little taller, but still shorter than Unity. She was five-ten and, as more than one of the old ladies at the retirement community had remarked, a strapping girl. Broad-shouldered and sturdy. In high school she’d been on the swim team and had almost made it to the state championships. These days her exercise program came with her job. There was plenty of bending, lifting, dragging and reaching. Maybe she wasn’t the media’s idea of a beauty, but she didn’t care. Stuart had thought she was pretty and that was enough for her.

She wrote down the addresses of the jobs on two pieces of paper and handed them to the guys. “Keep track of your hours and parts, please,” she told them. “I’m heading over to help Dagmar this morning. You can reach me on my phone if you need me.”

Jerry shook the note. “If you got a real phone, you could text us the address. And you could get one of those apps to keep track of our hours and the parts we use. Paper is so last century.”

Howard rolled his eyes. “He has an e-reader, so he thinks he’s all that.”

“I love my flip phone.” Unity patted her jeans pocket. “It’s dependable and the battery charge lasts forever.”

“That’s because your phone doesn’t do anything,” Jerry grumbled. “Embrace technology. By the time we die, you’ll be replacing us with robots.”

“Not likely.” Unity smiled at them. “And please don’t die.”

“It’s gonna happen eventually,” Howard said cheerfully. “See you later, Unity.”

The guys left, speaking for a minute on the sidewalk before heading for their cars. Unity confirmed that she’d listened to all the messages left on the answering machine, then scanned her date book to make sure the current week’s work had been transferred to the dry-erase board. Old-school, she thought. But simple and dependable. She wasn’t really a technology kind of person.

After closing the garage door, she walked through the house to double-check the back door. She paused in the hall, by the wedding picture taken the week after she’d graduated from high school. She and Stuart had been so young, she thought wistfully, touching the glass protecting the photograph. But they’d been in love and so sure they would be together forever.

The familiar sadness was pushed aside for a moment when she caught sight of the tiny glass beads on her wedding dress. There were hundreds of them, all sewn by hand. She should know—she and Ellen had spent dozens of hours carefully adding the beads to the inexpensive dress that had been all Unity could afford. She’d wanted the beautifully beaded dress, but it had been double her budget. She’d placed the order for the cheaper one, but had left the store in tears.

The next day Ellen had dropped a small, heavy box on Unity’s bed. Inside had been little plastic bags filled with beautiful, iridescent glass beads.

“It’ll take us right up until the wedding,” Ellen had told her. “But you’re going to have the perfect dress when you marry Stuart.”

It was an Ellen kind of thing to do, Unity thought. She believed in showing her love rather than just talking about it. From April until the end of June that year, Ellen had demonstrated her affection with hours of beading, and in the end, Unity had married Stuart...all the while wearing the dress of her dreams.

Her gaze shifted to her late husband’s face, remembering everything about that day. They’d been so thrilled to get married. It had been a magical day, but not the best day. With him, there hadn’t been a best day—there couldn’t be. They were all too good.

And thoughts like that were not helpful, she reminded herself, as the ache of missing him returned. Dagmar was waiting and Dagmar wasn’t the type to take lateness in stride.

Unity drove the three miles to The Village at Silver Pines, otherwise known as just plain Silver Pines, and was waved in by the guard at the gate.

Silver Pines was the largest retirement community in the Pacific Northwest. There were single-family homes, condos, a golf course, several clubhouses, three restaurants, a workout facility, two pools, tennis and pickleball courts, and a grocery store. Deeper into the multi-acre complex were the independent living apartments, assisted living apartments, memory care and rehab facilities, a skilled nursing home and an outpatient surgery center.

The community hosted weekly garage sales, movie nights and all kinds of clubs. The senior center—housed in the largest of the clubhouses—was open to the public.

Unity had discovered it and Silver Pines when she’d first moved back, three years ago. She’d decided to take up knitting, and the senior center had offered a class. She’d enjoyed the company so much, she’d joined the local pickleball league and was a regular at various events. Now, with the exception of Ellen, all her friends were over the age of sixty-five.

She drove through quiet, well-maintained streets. The association took care of all front lawns—freeing the residents from worry. Unity smiled. Maybe Howard should tell his son about the work his lawn business could have here. Not that she was interested. Too many of her friends were trying to fix her up. They liked Unity and wanted to see her “happy.” When she tried to tell them it had been only three years and she was nowhere near over Stuart, they told her she shouldn’t wallow. As if she had a choice about the amount of grief in her life. She also tried explaining that she’d had one great marriage and didn’t need another one, but that didn’t work either. Only Ellen let her be.

Unity turned onto a side street, then another, before pulling in front of a small rambler. The house was two bedrooms and two baths—about twelve hundred square feet. Sadly, Betty had fallen the previous week and broken her hip and would be moving into an independent living apartment.

Betty’s soon-to-be former house, like all the other houses, was on a single level with no stairs. The path from the street to the dark blue front door had a gentle incline. There were no steps anywhere in the house. The doorways were wide enough to accommodate a wheelchair. Inside the finishes were upscale. There were several floor plans and this was one of Unity’s favorites.

Dagmar met her at the front door. “You’re here. Good. We can get started right away. I went and saw Betty yesterday and got a list of all the things she wants us to pack for her. The movers come in the morning and take care of the rest of it.”

Dagmar, a seventysomething former librarian, had the energy level of a brewing volcano. She wore her straight hair in a chin-length bob. The color varied, sometimes significantly. Currently her swinging, shiny hair was a deep auburn with a single purple stripe on her left side. Her clothes matched her personality—vibrant hues battled prints for attention. She was as likely to show up in a Hawaiian-print caftan as riding pants and a bullfighter’s bolero jacket.

Today she had on a calf-length wrap skirt done in a balloon animal print. Her twinset picked up the lime green of one of the balloons and seemed conservative enough until she turned around and Unity saw a sequined version of the Rolling Stones open mouth logo. As always, reading glasses perched on Dagmar’s head.

“Let’s start in the bedroom. All she wants us to pack up there are her unmentionables.” Dagmar grinned over her shoulder as she led the way through the cheerful living room to the short hallway. “She used those exact words. Unmentionables. What is this? The set of Little Women? I told her unless she had some fur lined G-strings, the movers weren’t going to care, but you know how Betty is.”

Unity was used to Dagmar’s whirlwind, take-charge attitude. The first time Unity had come to Silver Pines to take her knitting classes, Dagmar had spotted her immediately. Within ten minutes, she pretty much knew Unity’s life story. By the end of the fifty-minute lesson, she’d introduced Unity to everyone in the class and had invited Unity to a potluck and a pickleball game. They’d been friends ever since.

“I packed up her medications yesterday,” Dagmar told her, pointing to the bathroom. “I’m hiding them at my place until she’s out of rehab. You know that doctor of hers is going to mess with everything and it will take her weeks to get back on track. This way I have a stash so we can figure it out as we go.”

“Because self-medication is always the answer?” Unity asked wryly.

“At our age, it can be.” Dagmar pointed to the roll of packing paper on the bed. “You get going on her Swarovski collection while I pack up the girl stuff. That’s mostly what she’s worried about. Her glass animals and the pictures, of course.” Dagmar’s smile faded. “She won’t have room to hang them at her new apartment. I’ve been thinking that I should put them all in a photo album for her.”

Before Unity could say anything, Dagmar pointed to the paper. “Chop-chop. I have bridge this afternoon and I’m sure you have work you should be doing.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Unity didn’t take offense at the instruction—it was simply Dagmar’s way. She unrolled the paper, then she walked around the small house, collecting the crystal animals in a sturdy box.

Betty had them in her hutch, of course, but also on floating shelves in the living room and den. As Unity gathered crystal swans and frogs, dogs and birds, she looked around at various rooms. The kitchen was recently remodeled, with quartz countertops and stainless steel appliances. There was plenty of storage and a back deck with room for a table and chairs, along with a barbecue.

The neighborhood was quiet. Safe, too, she thought, carefully wrapping the crystal pieces and placing them in the box.

Dagmar appeared a few minutes later with an empty box and an armful of framed photographs. Betty had been a background dancer in Hollywood musicals back in the late 1940s and early 1950s.

“She was a beautiful girl,” Dagmar said. She held up a photograph of a very young Betty in a scanty costume with a spray of feathers on her head.

“She was. What an exciting life.”

“She was brave.” Dagmar sighed. “I never was. I studied dance all through high school. I wanted to run off to New York and be a Rockette.” She smiled. “Back then you didn’t have to be so tall and I just made the height requirement. But my parents were very opposed and I was too scared to do it on my own. So I went to college and got my degree in library science.”

“You’ve led a pretty interesting life,” Unity told her.

“No, dear. But I have married interesting men, so there’s that.”

“This is a really nice house,” Unity said as she continued to pack. “The rooms are all a good size.”

Dagmar’s brown eyes narrowed. “Oh my God! Don’t tell me you’re checking it out.”

“What? No. Of course not. I’ve never been in Betty’s house before.”

Dagmar put her hands on her hips. “You’re what? Thirty-two?”

“Thirty-four.”

“Whatever. You’re a baby. You should not be eyeing houses in an age-restricted community. You already spend too much time here as it is. Not that I don’t love your company but you should be with people your own age.”

“I am. All the time.”

Dagmar’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Is this before or after you come here for whatever classes you’ve signed up for this time?”

Unity tried not to sound defensive. “The classes are open to the entire county.”

“Yes, but you’re one of the few not collecting social security who bother to take advantage of that.”

“So I’m smart.”

“You’re troubling me, Unity. It’s been three years. Don’t you think it’s time to want more than you have?”

“No.”

Dagmar sighed. “Maybe you want to think for a second before you answer.”

“Why? I like my life. I have my friends and my business.”

“Yes, you have all that, but what about a man?”

“I had my man. Dagmar, let it go.”

“I can’t. You had a wonderful marriage and Stuart died and it’s all very sad, but at some point you need to move on. Start dating. Have you thought about dating at all?”

“Since the last time you asked? Not really.”

Unity did her best to keep her tone friendly. She didn’t like this line of questioning. No, she hadn’t thought of dating. She’d been married to Stuart and that had been enough. One month after their wedding, he’d left for basic training. She’d joined him when he’d been assigned to a base in Colorado.

That had been their life. She’d made a home at whatever base he’d been assigned to. When he’d had leave, they’d traveled everywhere together. When his work had taken him overseas, she’d waited for him to come back to her. Being married to Stuart was all she knew. Three years after his death, she still only knew how to be his wife. Even her handyman business had grown out of her life with Stuart. Now it supported her and gave her something to do with her day.

There were supposed to have been children, but they’d wanted to wait until they were thirty and then his mom had died, so they’d waited another year and then Stuart had been gone.

“I’m sorry,” Dagmar said unexpectedly, pulling Unity close. “I’m pushing you and that never goes well. It’s just I hate to see you wasting your life, hanging out with a bunch of old farts with cataracts and spider veins. You should be with some young people, going out and having fun.”

“I have fun with you.”

Dagmar released her and smiled. “I am a good time, aren’t I? And while I appreciate the compliment, I was thinking more in the lines of sex. Darling, you desperately need a man.”

“I was thinking more of getting my bangs trimmed.”

“How very sad. All right, young lady. One more house check for silly crystal figurines. Although I’m in no position to cast stones. After all, my house is a shrine to all things Thomas Kincaid. I can’t help it. His work moves me. Plus, I can get new things dirt cheap at the estate sales around here.”

Unity did one more pass through the house. For now she was happy to live in what had been Stuart’s house, surrounded by his life as a boy. The familiar was comforting. But in another twenty-one or so years, she would qualify to move to Silver Pines and wasn’t that something to look forward to?

Three

The shrieks, laughs and yells were louder than usual, as the last day of school wound down. Ellen sat at her desk, thinking her students would be shocked to know Ms. Fox was just as excited as they were at the thought of having the summer off. But while they were done for the semester, she still had final exams to finish grading.

Ah, to have a subject that lent itself to Scantron testing, she thought wistfully, eyeing the tall stack of papers she would be wading through. But on her tests, partial credit was always available for the work done correctly, so every pencil mark had to be studied for its potential value to the final answer. She pulled the top test off the stack and uncapped her red extra-fine-point Sharpie and went to work.

Two hours and thirty-three minutes later, she had a mild headache and a slightly sore hand, but she had finished. She entered the grades into the computer, then happily hit the send button.

“I am done,” she said aloud, tapping her feet on the floor as she threw her arms in the air.

She’d already cleaned out her desk, so only had to gather a few personal things before walking around her classroom one last time to make sure nothing had been forgotten.

It was nearly five and the school was quiet. She locked her classroom as she left before making her way to her car. She would dump her things, then check on Coop before heading home. She wanted to work on her to-do list for the upcoming bus trip, but first she would get some takeout to celebrate. What it would be depended on whether or not Coop was, or Coop and Luka were, joining her for dinner.

She put everything in her trunk, then headed for the gym. Cooper and Luka were, as always, working out. They were obsessed with their muscles, and their earnestness about the whole thing made her giggle. Not that she let them know—they would be horrified to think they were anything but manly men.

She rounded the corner and caught a reflection out of the corner of her eye. As she glanced toward it, she saw the mirrored wall in the trophy case.

It was one of those moments when she wasn’t expecting to see herself and therefore had a microsecond of wondering “Who is that?” only to realize it was her. In that second of time she had a brief impression of a nondescript person swallowed up by clothes that were far too large.

Ellen came to a stop and stared at herself. She wore a loose tunic shirt that came to midthigh. Her pull-on pants billowed as she walked. The dark colors weren’t flattering.

Heat burned at her cheeks, although why she was embarrassed, she couldn’t say. So she wasn’t a fashionista—she was still a good person.

She remembered Keith’s comment when they’d had dinner the previous week—that no one could tell if she gained weight because her clothes were so baggy. It was just her thing, she told herself. She’d always dressed this way, hadn’t she?

Ellen continued to stare at herself as she remembered the summer before she began her first teaching job. Money had, as always, been so tight and she’d needed clothes to wear to work. She’d gone to a nice thrift store just outside Seattle where she’d found some wonderful, high-quality outfits at swoon-worthy prices. The only problem had been that they were two sizes too big.

Given her need and her budget, she’d bought them and worn them. Funny how all these years later, she’d never thought to start wearing things that actually fit.

She shook off the thought and started for the weight room. As she approached, she heard voices. Cooper was there, along with Luka. Ellen hovered just to the side of the door, figuring she didn’t get all that much opportunity to eavesdrop and that she wouldn’t be much of a mother if she didn’t take advantage of a situation that presented itself.

“There’s no reason to go,” Coop said, sounding dejected. “I should stay home and get a job.”

Go? Go where?

“You have to take the bus trip, man,” Luka told him. “Don’t you want to see Stanford?”

“Why? I can’t go away to college. Not that far away.”

Ellen pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from making any noise. Not go away to college? Where had that come from? They’d always talked about him going away. It was what he wanted.

“Coop, come on. Don’t say that.”

“You know I can’t leave her. She needs me.”

No, no, no, no! Ellen battled panic. Who needed him? She didn’t even know Coop was seeing someone. What bitch had trapped him?

She went cold all over and the unthinkable pushed its way into her brain. What if some girl was pregnant? There was a lot of that going around.

She closed her eyes. That couldn’t be it. They’d talked and talked about safe sex. She bought him condoms. She reminded him of how hard it was for just the two of them and how using a condom protected him from unplanned pregnancies and STDs. Hadn’t he been listening?

“You know her,” Coop continued. “You know what our relationship is like. She depends on me. She won’t make it without me.”

Who was it? Ellen wanted to scream the question. She ran through the list of girls she knew her son hung out with and tried to figure out which one might be holding him back. Did Keith know? No, he would have said something. Maybe she should talk to Lissa. Maybe—

“That’s no reason to stay here,” Luka told him. “You want to go away to college.”

“I can’t. Luka, I can’t. She’s my mom and she needs me.”

Ellen sagged against the wall as all the air rushed out of her body. Heat replaced the cold as she battled with the impossible. Her? The person he was talking about was her?

“We’ve always been a team,” Coop said. “I’m her life. She doesn’t date. I’m seventeen years old and my mom hasn’t been on a single date my whole life.”

“Not even one?”

“Nope. She’s never gone in the evening, unless it’s to hang out with Unity or Coach Kinne. She doesn’t do anything but work and take care of me. How can I leave her? Who will take care of her?”

The horror returned, but this time it was laced with confusion and shame. How could her son think like this? She was perfectly capable. She’d raised him, she’d graduated from college, she had a good job. She didn’t need her kid to take care of her. Why would he assume he was her everything? She had a life.

Without thinking, she began backing away from the door. She retreated to the main corridor and stood there, trying to clear her mind.

This was nothing but a misunderstanding, she told herself. Coop was reading the situation wrong. Of course she had a life and she would be fine when he was gone. Why wouldn’t she be? She was more than capable of being on her own. He had to know that. He was free to go live his life—be his own person. She wanted that for him, of course, but just as important, she never wanted him to resent her the way she’d always resented her parents.

She would take a second and gather her thoughts, then return to the weight room. She would find out about his plans for the evening, then go home and... And... Well, she didn’t know what she was going to do, but it would be something fun and exciting. Because of course she had things to do. Not dating didn’t mean anything. Lots of people didn’t date. She was absolutely and totally fine and happy and living the dream. That was her. For sure.

Unity finished tightening the new faucet in place. She ran water, then checked under the sink to make sure there were no leaks. When she was confident everything was perfect, she collected her tools, put the old faucet in the box the new one had arrived in and wiped down the counter. Only then did she go get Mr. Sweetman who was in his recliner, watching TV.

“I’m all done,” she said loudly, so the eightysomething gentleman could hear her over Judge Judy.

Mr. Sweetman, as adorable as his name, looked up and smiled. “All done?”

“I am.”

He nodded and got to his feet, a slow process that was painful to watch. When Unity couldn’t bear the struggle anymore, she grabbed him by both forearms and pulled until he was standing.

She matched his slow pace to the kitchen, then showed him the new faucet.

“If you press this button, the water goes from a steady stream to a nice spray,” she told him. “You don’t have to make it go back to a steady stream. The next time you turn it on, it’s on the steady stream automatically.”

“Oh, that’s very nice.”

She demonstrated the hose feature, showing him how he could easily rinse out his sink. He watched carefully, then practiced using the faucet before turning to her.

“Technology’s a marvel. When I was growing up, we had to pump water out of a well and carry it into the house. We’ve come a long way.”

“We have. I’ll send you a bill in a day or so.”

He patted her arm. “You’re a good girl, Unity. Thanks for my new faucet.”

She gave him a wave and let herself out.

After stowing her tools, she slid onto her seat and called her answering machine back home to pick up messages, then started her truck and drove through Silver Pines. Phyllis, the head of the local pickleball league, had asked her to stop by after work.

She was lucky that way, she thought, driving through the tidy community, waving at people she knew. Being her own boss meant she could come and go as she wanted. Although there were days when she had more work than she could handle, even with her part-time helpers.

She knew the solution was to hire a full-time employee—something she’d thought about and talked about and whined about. Ellen had threatened to place an ad online herself, just to force Unity to make a decision. It was probably the right thing to do, but Unity just couldn’t seem to make herself take the step. Hiring someone seemed like a big responsibility.

A real employee would be different than her part-time team. She would have to pay him or her every week, and do payroll.

She parked in front of Phyllis’s duplex. The seventysomething woman lived alone, with her two cats. Phyllis was a stern kind of person who intimidated Unity—not that she ever let herself show it. Until moving to Silver Pines, Phyllis had been a member of a tennis club and had played several times a week. Now she put the same devotion and energy into the local pickleball league. She was president of the club and in charge of all the tournaments. Phyllis had a forceful personality and got things done.

Unity had discovered the world of pickleball after she’d moved home and joined the league nearly two years ago. She liked the exercise, the comradery and the company.

“Good, you’re here,” Phyllis said, showing her into her living room.

They sat on opposite sofas. The room was just like Phyllis—no-nonsense and practical. Unity noticed the lack of refreshments, which surprised her. Most meetings, social or otherwise, came with at least an offer of iced tea and a cookie.

“I’ll get right to the point,” Phyllis said, her tone curt. “Several league members have been complaining about you, Unity.”

“What?” The unexpected statement shocked her. “I don’t understand. I’m on time, I support my team members. I always bring refreshments when it’s my turn.” She pressed her lips together to make herself stop talking.

Phyllis, a tall woman with close-cropped gray hair and small brown eyes, frowned. “It’s ridiculous you were ever allowed to join the league. Look at you. You’re a big, strapping girl. It’s not a fair fight. None of the other pairs can defeat you. No one wants to play against you.”

Unity felt herself flush. She suddenly felt all arms and legs, not to mention completely rejected. “I don’t win every game.”

“Nearly. I’ve gone through the statistics for the last three tournaments. You and your partner won all of them. You’re just too young and fit. The league was always meant to be for the people living here. You’re a ringer and we don’t want you around. I’m sorry, Unity, but you’re being given the boot.”

“You’re kicking me out?”

“We are.”

She said we but Unity had a feeling it was more a her decision. The whole situation was desperately unfair. “But the league is open to everyone in town. There are a lot of other people under sixty-five playing pickleball.”

“They’re all older than you and mostly fat. They’re terrible players. We’ve changed the rules. You have to be fifty or over to join the league. We took a vote.”

“Without me?”

Phyllis’s expression wasn’t the least bit sympathetic. “Yes. Without you.”

Unexpected tears burned in her eyes. Unity felt exposed and foolish and ashamed. This was so much worse than being picked last for a team in school—mostly because she never had been. She loved pickleball. What was she supposed to do now?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, standing. “I didn’t know.”

“Now you do. Find a league with people your own age. You’ll do fine.”

Phyllis hustled her to the front door, showed her out, then closed it firmly in Unity’s face. Unity tried to summon a little righteous anger, but she couldn’t get past the giant slap of rejection.

She got in her truck, silently called Phyllis a bitch, then drove the short distance to Dagmar’s house. When she was parked out front, she called her.

“You busy?” she asked, when Dagmar answered.

“Darling, I beg you, get a phone that texts. Even my friends text rather than call.”

Dagmar’s tone was light and Unity knew the comment was teasing, only it felt like one more judgment.

“Are you busy?” she asked again, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

“Oh, no. What happened?”

“Phyllis threw me off the pickleball league. She said I was a big, strapping girl and didn’t belong.”

“She’s a wizened old cow who hasn’t had sex in over a decade. I’m sure her girl parts are about as interesting as day-old bread.”

Despite everything, Unity smiled. “That’s a very weird analogy.”

“I know. I was struggling to make one work.” The curtain at the front of the house moved. “Oh, good, you’re here. Come on inside and we’ll talk about it.”

As always, just being in Dagmar’s house made Unity feel better. While most of the residents surrounded themselves with items from their past—pictures, mementos, ornate pieces of furniture not suited to the smaller space—Dagmar had decorated her house with an elegant, beachy vibe. Pale gray grounded all the shades of blue. The sofas were comfortable, the accessories minimal. A white shag rug defined the living area. The blue-and-gray backsplash colors were repeated in the throw pillows.

The cool elegance was a contrast to Dagmar’s Bohemian style. Today she had on black-and-red striped wide-leg trousers and a red T-shirt dominated by a picture of Marilyn Monroe. A dozen or so bangles rattled on her wrist.

Unity unlaced her work boots at the door and walked into the kitchen. Dagmar set a bottle of red wine on the counter and got out two glasses, then opened her refrigerator. She pulled out a fresh veggie plate, two containers of dip, a bowl of hummus and some pita chips. By the time Unity had removed the cork and poured them each a glass, the snacks were set out on the island. They each took a stool, then Dagmar held up her glass.

“Tell me what happened.”

Unity briefly recounted her conversation with Phyllis. “It feels really arbitrary and, at the same time, incredibly personal. She never liked me.”

“That’s because she needs to be the queen bee and with you kicking her bony ass, that was never going to happen.” Dagmar sipped her wine. “You could take her advice and join a league with people your own age. Take Ellen with you. She can be your partner.”

Unity smiled. “Ellen doesn’t believe in organized sports. Or exercise.”

“What about your other friends?” There was something in Dagmar’s tone as she asked the question. Something Unity couldn’t put her finger on.

“You mean outside Silver Pines?”

Dagmar’s brown eyes turned sympathetic. “Yes, dear. Your friends not getting social security.”

Unity let her gaze slide to the window. “I have Ellen. Everyone else is pretty much, you know, here.” She turned back to Dagmar. “I like the activities here. I like being busy.” Her full calendar made her feel less alone. “Besides, I enjoy the people here. I think they’re interesting and fun and well traveled. I have an old soul.”

“What you have is an inability to move on with your life. Darling, I love you as much as if you were my own daughter, but come on. What are you doing? Pickleball with old people? The knitting club? Do you do anything with people your own age, ever?” She held up a hand. “Excluding Ellen and Cooper?”

Unity grabbed a slice of red pepper and took a bite.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Dagmar sighed. “It’s been three years, Unity. You’re thirty-four. You’ve been in mourning nearly 10 percent of your life.”

Ten percent of her life? Unity had never thought about it that way. Not that it changed anything—time wasn’t the issue.

“I’ve buried four husbands,” Dagmar told her. “I loved each of them and the end was always painful, but you have to keep moving forward or you stagnate and die.”

Unity shook her head. “You don’t understand. It’s different for me.”

“Because you loved Stuart more? You had a greater love? I’m a terrible person for finding someone else?”

“No, of course not. It’s just—” She looked at her friend. “I only want to love Stuart.”

“He’s not coming back. Would you rather mourn him and be alone than risk the chance of finding happiness again?”

Yes. Unity didn’t say it, but she thought it and knew it to be true.

“I would accept you not wanting another relationship if that was all it was,” Dagmar told her. “But it isn’t. You’re stuck, my love. What I don’t understand is how you can be that way with all you see around here.”

“What do you mean?”

Dagmar waved to take in the room. “We come here to die. Oh, it’s a lovely place with lots to do, but we are in the final years of our lives. Look at Betty. She has plans—a river cruise, Christmas in New York. Will she still get to do that? Who knows? How long until she’s gone? What about me?”

Unity’s eyes widened. “What about you? Are you sick?”

“Not that I know of. But at my age, we’re all one bad diagnosis away from a terrible turn in our lives. Yes, it can happen to anyone, but for those of us living here, it feels more inevitable.”

She squeezed Unity’s hand. “Darling, you’re so young and vibrant. I hate to see you hiding from your own life. I wish you’d make friends your own age and go do exciting things. I wish you’d find a handsome man and use him for sex. I’m not saying you have to find another one true love, but you do have a responsibility to be alive, and right now, you’re not.”

Unity knew the words were said with love, but they still hurt. She thought of Dagmar as a second mother and the scolding, however gently delivered, made her feel uncomfortable and embarrassed.

“Are you cutting me off?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Never. And if you stop coming to see, I’ll hunt you down and drag you back here.” Dagmar smiled gently. “Just think about it. Life is wonderful. I want you to remember there’s so much out there you can experience. If not with men, then at least new horizons, new experiences. Although some of the old ones are quite wonderful.” Her smile turned sly. “The feel of a man’s tongue on your—”

Unity jumped to her feet. “Oh, my God! Don’t say whatever you were going to say.”

“I can’t believe your Stuart never did that to you.”

Heat flared on her cheeks and it was all Unity could do not the cover her ears and hum. “Of course he did, but I’m not discussing sex with you.”

“Yes, you made that clear the time I started to tell you about my threesome. It wasn’t the smartest decision I’ve ever made but it was a night.”

“I’m leaving,” Unity said, hurrying toward the door. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m alive. It’s something you should consider.”

Unity shoved her feet into her boots. “I’m alive, too. Just in a different way.”

Dagmar followed her to the door. Her expression was serious. “Before you know it, you’re going to be my age. It’s true what they say—regrets are the very worst.”

Unity hesitated, then nodded, as if she believed what she was being told. She hugged her friend, let herself out and hurried to her van.

What had started out as a good day had turned into something else very quickly, she thought as she headed for home. She felt battered and picked on and all she wanted to do was climb into bed and wish it all away. And if that didn’t work, she would think about Stuart because no matter what, he was always with her. And that was never going to change.

Four

“By the way, you’re fired,” Thaddeus Roake said as he used the bottle opener on his beer and tossed the cap into the trash.

Lela pulled a cookie sheet of mini quiches out of the oven. After setting it on the hot pads on the counter, she turned and grinned at him. “You can’t fire me. I don’t work for you.”

“You’re still fired. You’re a terrible matchmaker.”

The petite brunette sighed heavily. “Yes, well, I want to apologize for that last setup. I totally misread the situation.”

Thaddeus thought about the lunch Lela had arranged for him with Kristie—an attractive thirtysomething woman who seemed to check all the boxes on his wish list. She was smart, funny, caring and single.

He’d met her at Ruth’s Chris Steak House. She’d been upbeat, attentive and charming. Forty-five minutes in, he’d allowed himself to hope his dating situation might be looking up. Then she’d mentioned wanting two hundred thousand dollars for her charity.

“It was an ask, not a date,” he said.

Freddy, Lela’s husband and Thaddeus’s best friend from the age of six, wandered into the kitchen. He looked between them.

“What?”

“Thaddeus is firing me as his matchmaker.”

Freddy kissed his wife on the cheek. “A good idea. You’re not very good at it.”

“Hey. I know lots of great single women. I just haven’t quite figured out how to sort through them yet.”

Freddy leaned against the counter. “What about that one with the weird name. Katie-Jane, Katie-Marie—”

“Katie-Lynn,” Thaddeus and Lela said together.

“She’s very successful,” Lela said defensively.

“You’re right.” Thaddeus reached for a quiche. “She never got off the phone our entire lunch and when we were done, she called me Theodore.”

“It’s close,” Lela murmured.

“And that other one,” Freddy said, grabbing a beer from the refrigerator. “The one who was—”

“Married?” Thaddeus asked dryly.

“I was going to say too old, but you’re right. One of them was married.” Freddy shook his head. “Honey, I love you to the moon and back but you gotta leave Thaddeus alone. He’s such a loser. You’re going to make things worse.”

Thaddeus eyed his friend. “I’m not a loser.”

Freddy waved away the comment. “Look at you. You’re what? Thirty-seven? So old with nothing to show for it.”

“I have a very successful business that employs you, along with a couple dozen other people.”

“That’s nothing. I got Lela and three kids.”

“Smug bastard.”

They clinked bottles.

“You know it,” Freddy said. “Come on. The Mariners are ahead.”

A huge sectional sofa sat in front of the TV mounted on the wall in the family room. The kids were off playing with friends. In a couple of hours, they would come racing into the house with demands for food and attention. The house, a sprawling two-story place with a big backyard, was often loud and chaotic.

Thaddeus looked around, admitting that after years of chasing his business and financial dreams, he was finally ready to make a shift in priorities. This was what he was looking for—home, family. He was finally ready to settle down and because life was a mean bitch with a sense of humor, he couldn’t find anyone he wanted to settle down with. In the past six months he’d been on more first dates than he could count. A few had led to second dates, but none to third dates. He could find a failing business, turn it around and then sell it for five times what he paid, no problem. He could chat up a gorgeous woman at any trendy bar in the area and get laid. But finding someone special, someone he wanted to have kids with and spend the rest of his life adoring, someone he wanted to introduce to his great-aunt Dagmar, was not in his skill set.

Was wanting to find someone special so impossible? He knew part of the problem was separating himself from his success. He wanted a woman who cared about him, not his bank account.

“I can hear you thinking from here,” Freddy said, never taking his gaze from the TV.

“Sorting things through.”

“Should have married young, man. You could have had it all by now.”

“Not my style.”

“Your style has you screwed.” Freddy grinned. “Tell you what. If you end up old and alone, I’ll build you an apartment over the garage.”

Thaddeus sighed. “Sadly, that’s the best offer I’ve had this month.”

Freddy’s humor faded. “Seriously, bro, you’ve got to keep looking. There has to be someone out there hard up enough to want a guy who looks like you.”

“You’re right. You managed to convince Lela to marry you and I’m way better-looking than you.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I have a bigger dick.”

“Your mama.”

Lela carried in the quiche, along with egg rolls and dipping sauce. “Really? Is that what we’re reduced to? Bragging about your penis and talking trash about your mothers?”

Freddy waited until she’d put down the food, then pulled her onto his lap. “You picked me. You could have had any man you wanted and you picked me. Now you have to live with it.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled close. “I know. Sometimes you get lucky.”

Thaddeus turned his attention to the game, ignoring the disquiet inside. Because saying disquiet was easier than saying loneliness, which was really what it was.

He swallowed the last of his beer, then stood. “I’m gonna go.”

Lela slid to her feet. “What? Don’t. Come on, Thaddeus. Stay to dinner.”

He kissed her cheek, then nodded at Freddy. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

His friend narrowed his gaze. “You’re going to the office, aren’t you?”

“Just for a couple of hours.”

Freddy rose and walked him out. “You okay, man? You need me to come with you?”

“To watch me work? I’m fine. I just have to figure it out.”

Freddy nodded. “Maybe plastic surgery would help.”

Thaddeus laughed and got in his car. As he drove the short distance to his condo’s parking garage, he told himself maybe it was time to accept the fact that he wasn’t meant to find “the one.” He’d already been married once and that had been a disaster. Maybe he was meant to be the fun uncle, the charming party guy who had a string of interchangeable women. There were worse fates. Think of the time he would save if he stopped looking. Given the choice between alone and disappointment—maybe alone didn’t look so bad.

At 2:57 a.m. Ellen woke from a restless sleep and sat straight up in bed. She didn’t know what she’d been dreaming but whatever it was, it had left her sweaty, with her heart racing. As she stared into the darkness, she was overwhelmed by a sense of dread. Not only did she have to worry about her son resenting her the way she’d resented her parents, but Cooper had been right. She didn’t have a life.

She did the same thing every day. She lived a routine that revolved around her work and her friends and her son. She didn’t date. She, in fact, hadn’t been on a date since she’d found out she was pregnant. Worse, she hadn’t had sex with a man since she’d gotten pregnant.

She flung off the covers and jumped to her feet where she tried to catch her breath.

How had it happened? How had she forgotten to do things like have a life? No wonder her kid was worried about her. She was pathetic, which she could live with, but she was also holding Cooper back, which was unforgiveable. And the worst part? Now that she knew the truth, she was going to have to do something about it.

Ellen never got back to sleep. Sometime around four thirty, she stopped faking it and got up and showered. She tried to distract herself by playing computer games, but her mind was too busy racing for her to focus.

Shortly before six, she wrote a note for Coop, in case he got up before she was back. As it was the first day of summer vacation, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t see him until noon, but if the unexpected happened, she didn’t want him to worry. She swung by Starbucks, got two venti lattes and a couple of breakfast sandwiches, then headed for Unity’s house, three blocks away.

She used her key to let herself in and tiptoed down the hall. When she saw a light on in her friend’s bathroom, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“It’s me,” she called. “Don’t freak.”

There was a scream from the bathroom, then Unity stuck her head out, a toothbrush in one hand.

“You gave me a heart attack. What are you doing here?”

Ellen held up the Starbucks tray. “Sorry. I have a crisis. I figured you’d be up already.”

Unity, annoyingly pretty with bedhead and no makeup, stared at her. “It’s barely six. What time did you get up?”

“I don’t know. Fourish.”

“Then it must be bad. Give me thirty seconds.”

Ellen retreated to the kitchen. It was already well past sunrise, so she didn’t bother with lights, instead collapsing on one of the kitchen chairs and reaching for a coffee. A couple of minutes later, Unity joined her.

Her friend had pulled a T-shirt over jeans. Her feet were bare, as was her face. Unity wasn’t one to bother with things like makeup. Not that Ellen did much, either. It was such a pain in the ass, and time-consuming. Not only did you have to put it all on, later, when you were dog tired and just wanted to go to bed, you had to take it all off. She had better things to do with her life. Like panic.

Unity took the remaining coffee. “Why didn’t you call me last night?”

“I didn’t think it was bad. Or I was mulling.” Maybe she had been a little embarrassed to share. Yes, Unity was her best friend and they talked about nearly everything, but there was something about what Cooper had said that had made her want to go hide rather than spill her guts.

Unity passed out the sandwiches. She unwrapped hers and took a bite. “Tell me.”

Ellen sucked in a breath, then explained about the overheard conversation. As she spoke all the embarrassment rushed back, along with a good dose of despair, some fear and a bit of chagrin.

“I can’t believe he thinks I’m not capable of being on my own. I’m very capable. I’ve raised him. Yes, my parents helped and I’m grateful but it was mostly me taking care of him. I’m his mom. I handle things. Sure, we talk about being a team, but that’s a family thing, not an ‘I need him to survive’ thing.”

She finished in a rush, then sucked in a breath, only to realize that instead of looking sympathetic, Unity was smiling.

“You think this is funny?” Ellen asked, outraged. “It’s not funny at all. It’s awful. I love Coop with all I have and it turns out I’m holding him back.” She felt her eyes burning. “I’m making his life smaller. That’s terrible.”

Unity stunned her by giving a little wave of dismissal. “It’s not all that. Come on. Last week you were upset he wanted to go away to California to college. Now he doesn’t. Your problem is solved.”

Ellen genuinely couldn’t understand why her friend said that. She might as well have mentioned the price of grapefruit.

“This is serious,” she snapped, feeling tightness in her chest as different emotions struggled for dominance. “I know what it’s like to be trapped by a parent. My folks were great to me, but in order to live with them, after I had Cooper, I had to follow their rules. There was school and homework and taking care of him and going to my part-time job and nothing else. I never had a life and while I know they were trying to teach me a lesson, a lot of the time their actions felt vindictive and cruel. Every second of every day was spent making sure I remembered how I’d screwed up.”

She felt her temper rising. “After we graduated, you were gone. You don’t know what I went through. I’m not saying I shouldn’t have taken responsibility for my kid, but there was never a break. While I appreciate the support, I resented the hell out of them. When I finally got my teaching credential, it took me six months to save enough to move out into my own apartment. Coop and I were dirt-poor, but I didn’t care. I was finally free of them. I never want him to feel that way about me.”

Restless, she sprang to her feet and began pacing the length of the room. “I love my folks. I do, but there were times when I hated them.” She glared at Unity. “I don’t want Cooper to hate me.”

“He doesn’t.” Unity still looked amused. “You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

“No, I’m not. Don’t you get it? My parents aren’t bad people, but for them, the rules were more important than their only child. Since they’ve moved away, I talk to them every few months and that’s it. How much of that is because of their stupid rules? They were wrong in how they treated me and I never wanted to be that person with Cooper.”

“Ellen, you’re not,” Unity told her. “Cooper’s fine. You know he is. He adores you and he’s a really good guy. Just sit down and talk to him about all this.”

“And say what? That I have life? I don’t. I figured that out in the middle of the night.” Ellen looked at her. “I have school and you and Cooper and that’s it. I don’t have any hobbies. I don’t date. God knows I haven’t had sex since I was a teenager. I resented how my parents made me live and yet here I am, seventeen years later, still following their rules. Living the life they told me to live, even though I hated it.”

Unity reached for her sandwich and took a bite. “So change.”

The casual words felt like a slap across the face.

“That’s it?” Ellen asked bitterly. “That’s your advice? Change? How is that helpful? How does that show any understanding of the problem? How would you have liked it if when you called me to tell me Stuart was gone that I had told you to get over it?”

Unity’s eyes widened. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? This is a crisis and you’re sitting there smiling, telling me it will be fine. It’s not fine. It’s my son and I want him to be happy.” Her voice was rising and she honestly didn’t care. Maybe shouting would get her point across. “I want him to have a wonderful college experience and not worry about me for even one second. Why can’t you see that? Why aren’t you helping?”

Unity stood and faced her. “I’m sorry you think I’m not being supportive. That isn’t how I feel. Of course I want to help you. I just think you’re making this way bigger than it is. You’ve lost perspective.”

“What perspective do you have about anything? You’re living in your late husband’s house, sleeping in his high school bed, wearing his old clothes, wishing your life away. It’s been three years and you’re still in the same place you were when I dropped everything and flew to South Carolina to bring you home. I handled everything, Unity. Everything. You needed me and I was happy to be there when you needed me. It would be nice, if just once, you could stop thinking about yourself and realize sometimes I need you, too.”

They stared at each other. Ellen’s chest hurt. She didn’t want to be fighting. She wanted understanding and support and maybe a hug. But Unity only stared at her, wide-eyed before saying, “You really hurt my feelings.”

“You hurt mine. You’re dismissing me and what’s going on.”

“Maybe because it isn’t a big deal. Certainly nothing like losing my husband. You still have your child. You’re not in pain every single day. You’ve never lost anyone and you don’t know what it’s like. Maybe when you understand that, I’ll decide to understand you.”

The words were like a physical blow. Ellen felt sick to her stomach. Was she wrong about every relationship in her life?

“I didn’t realize that caring and concern came at a price in our friendship,” Ellen told her, hoping her heart wasn’t really breaking. “It would be helpful if you’d send me some kind of accounting so I could see what you think I’ve paid for and what I haven’t. That way I won’t make the mistake of coming to you for help when there’s not enough credit in my account.”

She turned then and ran out of the house. She got in her car and drove home, then locked herself in her bedroom where she curled up, pulling her knees to her chest, and started to cry.

Five

Righteous indignation got Unity through most of the morning. She couldn’t believe how horrible Ellen had been and the awful things she’d said. They were family—you’d think Ellen would remember that. But by noon, Unity started to question what had happened and was thinking maybe she could have been a little more supportive.

Ellen had been her best friend her whole life. Before Unity’s parents had been killed in a car crash, she and Ellen had split their time between their two houses, understanding that when they were at Ellen’s place, there were lots of rules and when they were at Unity’s, they could do whatever they wanted.

After working in the garden for a while, she went inside for lunch, only to find she wasn’t really hungry. In fact, she felt more than a little sick to her stomach. Instead of seeing the contents of her refrigerator, she saw the tall, solemn-eyed policeman telling her that her parents weren’t going to be coming home.

She’d been thirteen—old enough to understand but too young to truly process the information. She shut the refrigerator and sank down on the floor as she remembered Ellen and her parents holding her tight as she sobbed out her pain. She’d gone to live with Ellen and her folks—there’d never been a question of that. Although she had her own room, for the first year, she’d slept with Ellen, her friend hugging her when Unity woke screaming from the nightmares.

Years later, Ellen had helped her plan every part of her small, inexpensive wedding to Stuart. They’d made the centerpieces themselves, after they’d finished the beading on Unity’s dress. Ellen had been her maid of honor and Ellen had emailed her every single day that Stuart was deployed. And yes, when Unity had once again opened her front door to find stern-faced men waiting to tell her Stuart was gone, Ellen had dropped everything to fly out to South Carolina and bring her home. Because Ellen showed her love by doing. She always had.

Unity leaned against the cabinets and closed her eyes as the uncomfortable truth wormed its way into her soul. Ellen had needed her and she hadn’t been there. Worse, Ellen had asked for help and Unity had practically laughed in her face as she told her to get over herself. So what if she didn’t think what Coop had said was a big deal? Ellen did and wasn’t that what mattered? Only the things Ellen had said—they had been awful.

Unity forced herself to her feet, made her way out to her work van and drove to Silver Pines.

She’d joined the Saturday afternoon Moving on After Loss grief group shortly after coming home. The group met in one of the community center rooms. A licensed therapist acted as facilitator, but there was no set agenda. People were allowed to talk or not talk, sharing as they liked. Just being with other people who had gone through what she had made her feel less alone.

About a year ago they’d gotten a new facilitator—Carmen. She was a fortysomething woman with dark hair and eyes, and a calming way about her.

Unity walked into the community center room and saw there were about fifteen people attending today. She greeted everyone as she made her way to the coffee machine in the back. Every few weeks someone new joined, but today all the faces were familiar.

When Carmen announced it was time, they took their seats in the loose circle formed by their chairs. Carmen welcomed them and asked who wanted to share. Unity tried to listen but kept finding her attention slipping back to her fight with Ellen. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered if she’d been wrong.

Just considering the possibility made her sick to her stomach again.

“Unity?”

Unity realized everyone was looking at her. She glanced at Carmen. “Sorry. I was lost in thought.”

“I could tell. Want to talk about it?”

“She’s thinking about Stuart,” Veronica, a short, plump woman in her seventies said with an eye roll. “It’s what she’s always thinking about.”

“I wasn’t thinking about him,” Unity said, surprised by the harsh statement. “Although this is a grief group. Isn’t dealing with the loss of my husband the point?”

The pain of missing him joined her regret and guilt about Ellen. None of this was supposed to have happened, she thought bitterly. She was supposed to be happily married and the mother of two or three kids by now. But she was left with nothing but memories and the flag that had draped his coffin.

Veronica sighed heavily. “No, it’s not. Because you’re not dead yet, despite how you act. Yes, you lost your husband, and it’s tragic, but come on. You’re not the only one. We’ve all lost someone. You’re acting like this is some unique event only you have experienced. It’s not like your pain is any bigger than ours, no matter how much you love reveling in it.”

“All right,” Carmen said. “That was a little bit more of a response than I was hoping for.”

“I’m not wrong, am I?” Veronica asked, motioning to the group.

To Unity’s surprise and discomfort, several people murmured words of agreement.

Unity folded her arms across her chest as if she could protect herself from the biting assessments. “But Stuart was my husband.”

“Like Veronica said, we’ve all lost someone,” Edward reminded her. “That’s why we’re here.”

“It’s called moving on after loss,” Veronica said. “Be grateful for what you were given. Not living your life is a dumb ass way to spend your day.”

Carmen sighed. “Veronica, we’ve talked about this.”

“What? I can’t say dumb ass? Really? Is anyone here genuinely offended?”

Unity wanted to say she was, but she was too focused on surviving the unexpected attack.

“I’m not stuck,” she whispered.

Carmen gave her a sympathetic look. “Are you sure?”

Unity wanted to say she was happy loving Stuart, even if he wasn’t with her anymore, but knew that would open her to another round of blunt statements she couldn’t stand to hear. She felt raw and exposed and she wished she’d stayed home.

“Your points are good ones,” she lied, just wanting them to focus on someone else. Their words made her feel raw and unwelcome and way too close to losing control.

Carmen seemed to sense that and changed the subject. Unity got through the rest of the meeting. When it was over, she hurried to her van and drove home. Her stomach ached, her head pounded and she felt like she could throw up, but worst of all she wanted to call Ellen and tell her what had happened and she couldn’t because they were fighting.

The enormity of that slammed into her, making her eyes fill with tears even as her body seemed to contract in on itself. She felt like a squashed bug—all flat and bleeding. Her chest got so tight, she couldn’t breathe.

Ellen was her family. Unity couldn’t remember a time when she and Ellen hadn’t been friends. She also couldn’t remember them ever fighting—certainly not as adults.

She sat at the kitchen table and replayed the early morning conversation in her head. Ellen had been upset about Cooper and had wanted help. Ellen had needed her and she hadn’t been there.

No wonder Ellen had felt dismissed and ignored. Unity of all people should have seen that.

She sat up straight. What if the fight had ruined everything? What if their relationship could never be made right? What if it was broken beyond repair?

Panic seized her, forcing her to her feet. But when she was standing, she didn’t know what to do. How could she show Ellen she understood and was sorry? Because she was sorry and she was scared. More scared than she’d ever been because whenever she’d faced something bad, she’d known Ellen would be there for her, no matter what, and she didn’t have that certainty anymore.

An apology was required, but that didn’t help Ellen. Not really. There had to be another solution—one that made Ellen feel heard and maybe fixed the problem.

Unity walked into her small office. She pulled out a pad of paper and reached for a pen. Ellen needed to convince Cooper she had a life, even though she didn’t. Which meant she had to start doing things to show him she had things she looked forward to, like going out and dressing in clothes that fit and—

Unity started making a list of ways Ellen could change her life. When she’d nearly filled a page with items—some helpful, some ridiculous—she studied it. There were a few good ideas here. She should tell Ellen how she could fix the problem.

“Because people love to be told what to do?” she murmured aloud, thinking about how she’d been attacked at her grief group.

She thought about what people had said. She hadn’t enjoyed everyone piling on her, as if she were the only one with a problem. It wasn’t as if they had their acts together either.

Unity started a second list—this one about herself. She took some items from Ellen’s list and added a few others for herself.

She knew she had zero interest in changing. She didn’t want to heal and move on, but that wasn’t the point. She needed her friend back more than she needed to breathe. She’d hurt Ellen and now they were fighting. Unity would do anything to make that right. She didn’t have to believe—she just had to convince Ellen she believed. And maybe this was a start.

By late afternoon Ellen had lost her mad and she just missed Unity. The fight had been stupid. She and Unity had been friends forever. Shouldn’t they do better than they had that morning?

She was just about to call and say that when Cooper walked into the living room, a basketball under one arm, his dark hair falling in his eyes.

“I’m meeting Luka at the park,” he said, looking more like a kid than a young man in his baggy shorts and oversize T-shirt. “Then we’re going back to his place for a barbecue. I’ll be home by eleven.”

She smiled at him. “Have fun.”

“I will.” He hesitated, his blue eyes darkened with concern. “What are you going to do, Mom?”

As in it was a Saturday night and she was a carefree single woman who should have plans. Plans that made her sound like she didn’t need her teenage son worrying about her.

She waved her cell phone. “I’m about to call Unity. We’re, ah, going to hang out with some friends.” She tried to look amused. “Sort of an old people party.”

Coop looked doubtful. “Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay. Have fun.”

“You, too.”

He left. Seconds later, she heard his car start up. When he’d pulled out of the driveway, she told herself at least half of the statement had been true—she was going to call Unity.

But before she could dial, her phone rang. She glanced at the unfamiliar number.

“Hello?”

“Ellen, it’s Jeremy.”

Who? She didn’t know any...

Crap, crap, crap. Actually she did know a Jeremy, or she had back in high school. They’d dated for a month, he’d gotten her pregnant and then he’d disappeared. Since then she’d heard from him every five or so years. He asked about Coop but never wanted to see him. She supposed every now and then the guilt got to him.

“This is unexpected,” she said.

“I know. How are you?”

“Good and you?”

“Good.”

There was a moment of silence. She heard him clear his throat.

“I, ah, I’ve been thinking about what happened all those years ago. About Cooper and how he’s doing. I’m in a different place now and thought maybe, if you wouldn’t mind, I could meet him.”

If Ellen had been standing, she would have fallen. Or fainted.

“He’s seventeen. He’s practically an adult and you just now want to meet him?” She knew she sounded shrill, but was the man on crack? “You signed your rights away before he was born. You walked out on me and him. You’ve shown absolutely no interest in him.”

Something she’d had to explain to her son over the years, when he’d asked about his father. She’d always had to go out of her way to make sure Jeremy wasn’t the bad guy. She’d always had to take the high ground and say things like he hadn’t been ready to be a father and no, she hadn’t been disappointed to be physically and emotionally abandoned as she’d gone through her senior year of high school pregnant.

“People change, Ellen.”

“Oh, do they?”

“I can see you’re still upset. I suppose you have reason to be. You’re right—I have no legal rights, but he is my son and I was hoping I could get to know him.”

She wanted to tell him not a chance. That he didn’t deserve to know Cooper or have anything to do with him. That neither of them was interested. Only she knew that last one wasn’t true. Cooper might not show it, but she knew he was curious about his father, and in her gut, she was pretty sure he would like a chance to meet him.

“Are you still there?” Jeremy asked.

“Yes.”

Why did she always have to be the adult in the room?

“I need to think about this,” she said.

“Of course. Let me give you my contact information.”

She got up and walked into the kitchen where she grabbed a pen and a piece of paper, then scribbled down his number and email address.

“I’d really like a second chance with him,” Jeremy told her.

She thought about how alone she’d felt as she’d struggled as a single parent, how much he’d missed and how bitterly unfair his request was, and then she remembered Coop.

“I’ll get back to you,” she told him. “Give me a few days.”

“Thank you, Ellen.”

She hung up and swore. Now? Did this have to be happening now?

Her phone rang again. She answered without looking at the screen.

“Yes?”

“It’s me,” Unity said. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

Relief eased the tightness in her chest. “Only if you promise to come over and get drunk with me.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“The front door is open.”

Ellen dug out a frozen pizza and turned on the oven, then opened a bottle of red wine. When she heard the door open, she ran out of her kitchen and met Unity in the living room where they hugged each other tight.

“I’m sorry,” Unity said, tears filling her eyes. “I’m sorry. I should have understood. I should have listened.”

“No, it was me. I was so upset that I lashed out. I’m sorry. I was insensitive about Stuart. I hurt you.”

“No, I hurt you.”

They looked at each other, then hugged again. Ellen hung on, feeling her world right itself.

“I’ve had a horrible day,” she admitted.

“Me, too. I missed you. I can’t believe we had a fight.”

“I can’t, either. Let’s promise to never do it again.”

They smiled at each other.

“Deal,” Unity said.

They linked arms and walked into the kitchen. After taking a seat at the table, Ellen poured them each a glass of wine. Unity sat across from her, her expression sad.

“I really am sorry.”

“Me, too. I’m okay if you’re okay.”

Unity hesitated, then nodded.

“You sure?” Ellen asked.

“Yes. I’m fine, or I will be.” She bit her bottom lip. “I was thinking about what you said about Coop and how you’re worried about him. Plus what you said about me.”

Ellen winced. “Do we have to talk about that?”

“I’m not complaining. I have an idea.” Unity pulled a pad of paper out of her large handbag and slid it across to the table.

Ellen glanced down. “The Friendship List?” She looked at her friend. “What is that?”

“So you need to convince Coop that you’re totally fine on your own and I maybe need to get out of my rut.”

Ellen wanted to tease that maybe wasn’t the right word, but knew it was too soon. “Okay. And?”

“And we do it together. We make a pact to challenge each other to use the summer to make some changes. Cooper won’t apply to colleges until the fall, so there’s time for you to show him you have a life. Let’s take advantage of that. We would each have a list of things to do and whoever does the most wins.”

“Like a game show?”

“Kind of. The winner treats the loser to a weekend at the Salish Lodge.”

That caught Ellen’s attention. She and Unity had been talking about a girlfriends’ weekend at the Lodge forever. The Salish Lodge was an upscale resort on the Seattle side of the mountains. There was a spa, a couple of great restaurants and amazing views of Snoqualmie Falls. But the glorious accommodations came with a price tag her schoolteacher’s salary couldn’t afford very easily.

“I could really get into a spa weekend,” she said slowly.

“Me, too. And regardless of who wins, going away will help convince Cooper that you’re really okay without him.”

It was an interesting idea. Ellen knew Unity wasn’t the only one in a rut. As she’d been unable to come up with a single idea to fix things with Coop, she was willing to give this a try.

“What about you?” Ellen asked. “Do you want to change? I’m not trying to start anything, but you haven’t even hinted that you’re looking for more than you have.”

“I know, but what I’m doing isn’t working.” She reached for her wine. “I got thrown out of the pickleball league.”

“What? How could that happen? You’re a star player.”

Unity’s mouth twisted. “That was part of the problem. I was told that I’m too young and fit and that I should go find a league with people my own age.”

“I hadn’t thought about it that way, but they’re right.”

“According to Phyllis, I’m a big, strapping girl.”

Ellen couldn’t hide her smile. “Strapping? She said strapping?”

“She did.”

“I hate her.”

“Thank you.”

The oven dinged. Ellen got up and slid in the frozen pizza, then resumed her seat.

“Have you thought about joining another pickleball league?”

“Not really, but I should think about it. Maybe put it on the challenge list.”

Ellen tore off a couple of sheets of blank paper, while Unity dug pens out of her bag.

“Let’s do this,” Ellen said. “Let’s come up with a list of challenges. Things that are scary and fun and help us grow as people.”

“Ugh.” Unity wrinkled her nose. “Sorry. I’m not a fan of change.”

“Me, either, but circumstances being what they are, I don’t think we have a choice.” She pointed to Unity’s paper. “Pickleball. Write it down.”

“I’d rather do something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” Unity thought for a second. “Skydiving.”

“What?” Ellen lowered her voice. “Are you insane? Skydiving?”

Unity grinned. “Yes, and you should get a tattoo.”

“You first.”

Unity picked up her pen and wrote the word tattoo, followed by skydiving. Her expression turned smug. “Match that.”

“Fine.” Ellen wrote down tattoo on her list. Then she thought about her recent realization that not only hadn’t she been on a date in the past seventeen years, she also hadn’t had sex. Well, at least not with someone other than herself.

Her pen hovered right above the paper.

“You can do it,” Unity whispered.

“What I’d really like is sex with a handsome man. Unlikely, but whatever.” She scribbled the words. “I have no idea how I’m going to make that happen.” She looked at Unity. “I challenge you to think about doing the same.”

“Sex with a man?”

“Or a woman.”

Unity rolled her eyes. “As if.”

“Oh, and in your case, he has to be age appropriate.”

She thought Unity might get upset at that, but her friend only started to laugh.

“I’m definitely not ready for that,” Unity admitted.

“I know, but isn’t that the point? Oh, I have one for you. Get a phone you can text with.”

“Fine. Get some clothes that fit you.”

Ellen winced. “I really should do that.”

“Yes, you should.”

The timer dinged. Ellen sliced up the pizza and set it in the center of the table. Over wine and dinner, they continued to brainstorm their lists. Nearly an hour later, they looked at each other.

“I’m excited and uncomfortable,” Ellen admitted. “Which I think is the point. What about you?”

Unity shrugged. “The same.”

“I’m not sure you’re ready to move on.”

“I’m not, but do I have a choice?” Unity split the last of the wine between them. “I got yelled at in my grief group.”

“Grief group is giving you grief?” Ellen slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. That’s the wine talking.”

“Yes, it is and you’re right. It’s kind of funny.”

“No, it’s not. What happened?”

“They told me I’m stuck. That I’m not moving on.” She set her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “They said I think my pain and loss are more special than anyone else’s and that’s why I can’t move on.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been awful.”

“It was. They ganged up on me.” Unity looked at her list then back at Ellen. “Are they right? Am I making what happened more than it is?”

“No. You suffered a horrible loss. You’re not wrong to miss Stuart. You loved him.”

Unity’s gaze was steady. “But?”

“But maybe it’s time to stop assuming that your life has to be over, too. Stuart is gone, but you’re still here. You could find someone, have kids.”

“I don’t want kids if I can’t have them with Stuart.”

Words Ellen had heard before. “Maybe it’s the wine talking,” she said slowly, “but I think it’s more you won’t let yourself have kids with anyone but Stuart.”

Unity stared at her. “That’s not true.”

“Are you sure? Like I said this morning, I had to deal with a lot of arbitrary rules in my time. I’m good at recognizing them. You’ve made a lot of decisions based on grief. Maybe they were right at first, but I don’t think they’re right now.”

“I can’t think about that now.”

Ellen nodded rather than push. “Just think about them later, okay?”

“I will because you’re my family and I love you.” Unity sighed. “Okay, we’re doing this?”

“We are. We need to.” Ellen picked up her list. After half a bottle of wine, the words swam a little, but she could still read them. “Learn how to do a smoky eye. Get a tattoo. Sing karaoke. Wear clothes that fit for a least a month, which I have to say is really dumb because if I’m buying new clothes, I’m going to wear them for more than a month.”

Unity motioned for her to keep going.

“Have sex with a hunky guy. Get drunk, and not by myself. Hey, does tonight count?”

“No.”

“You’re kind of a pain in my ass.” She returned her attention to the list. “Go out dancing. Wear a bathing suit at the beach.” She grimaced. “I’m so pale, I’ll blind people.”

“Not the point.”

“Be that way. Is that all? Oh, rent an impractical car for the weekend and go wild.” She put down the list. “I’m not getting a ticket.”

“That is entirely up to you.” Unity reached for her own list. “Get a tattoo. Go skydiving. Learn to rock climb. Wear a dress and three-inch heels.”

Ellen waved her hand. “Without a bra.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Just wearing a dress and heels is no big deal. No bra, missy. You have great boobs. You’ll be fine.”

Unity shook her head, then dutifully noted the change. “Look at three houses or condos, even though I don’t want to move.”

“Not at Silver Pines,” Ellen added. “No wistful shopping with the old people.”

“I wasn’t going to look at Silver Pines. I can’t move there until I’m fifty-five.”

“It pains me that you know that.”

Unity smiled. “Get a phone that texts.”

“Hallelujah.”

“Bite me. What else? Join a pickleball team with people my own age. Hire a full-time employee who isn’t past the age of retirement and, last but not least, move my business into an office.”

They looked at each other.

“Some of these are good,” Ellen said. “Like you getting a real office. Even if you never move out of Stuart’s house, it would be nice to get all that inventory out of your garage. You’d have more separation from work.”

“I do like the idea of that one,” Unity admitted. “I’m nervous about hiring someone full-time, though. It’s a lot of responsibility.”

“You’re a responsible person. Besides, you always have more work than you can do.” Ellen looked at her list. “There’s very little on here I can do on my own or even with you.”

“The point is to get out so Cooper realizes you have a life beyond him. He’s afraid he’s all you have.”

Ellen covered her face with her hands. “I didn’t tell you. Jeremy called today.”

Unity’s blue eyes widened. “Jeremy as in Cooper’s father? He called? It’s been seventeen years. What, did he lose your number until today?”

Ellen smiled. “Thank you for the righteous indignation. He’s called a couple of times before. Just to, I don’t know, get an update, I guess.”

“Is that what he wanted today?”

Ellen thought about the call. “No. He wants to see Coop. He wants to get to know his son.”

“Oh, no. Are you all right with that?”

“No. The thought of it terrifies me. Jeremy is some Hollywood movie producer in LA. He’s new and interesting and I’m just the mom.”

“You’re afraid you’re going to lose him?”

Ellen nodded.

“But you know you have to tell him.”

Ellen nodded again. She didn’t want to, but it was the right thing to do. She reached for her pen and added one more thing to her list.

Let Cooper meet his dad.

Six

The distance between Thaddeus’s down town Bellevue condo and his great-aunt Dagmar’s house was one hundred and seven miles. In the winter, the mountain pass between them could be difficult but in late June, the interstate was an easy two-hour drive.

As he paused to check in with the security guard at the entrance to The Village at Silver Pines, he found himself once again wishing she would consider moving to his side of the mountain. There were plenty of very nice retirement communities in the Seattle area and he’d told her price was no object. But no matter how he cajoled, Dagmar refused to move. She’d lived in Willowbrook her entire life. She claimed not to be a big city kind of person.

When he’d relocated from Las Vegas seven years ago, he’d looked around Willowbrook, but the small community with its early twentieth-century storefronts hadn’t been the least bit appealing. Even though he could run his business from anywhere, he’d been unable to imagine himself living in a town with a grange, where the bowling alley was still a hot spot and the main road off the interstate road was dotted with gas stations and fast-food places to service the travelers going somewhere else.

Yes, just a mile or two north of the highway, there were charming residential streets and plenty of parks and even a handful of cows, but nothing about the place was him. He liked urban views and being close to a decent airport.

Now he drove into his aunt’s retirement community, turning on the narrow streets before stopping in front of her house. The front door opened before he’d even gotten out of his car.

Despite her age, Dagmar looked as she always had—vital and eccentric, with her auburn hair swinging around her face. She was dressed in camo-patterned cropped pants and an olive green wrap blouse covered with applique black flowers.

“Darling!” She held out her arms as he approached. “You made it. I’m delighted.”

“You asked and I answered.”

He was gentle as he held her, mindful of the fact that she was more frail this year than last. She was as sharp as she had ever been, but he worried about her as she got older.

“Come inside. You’re staying to dinner, aren’t you? I’m planning something wonderful.”

“You always do.”

Two days ago, Dagmar had texted, inviting him over. She’d told him to come early and to plan on having a good time. With Dagmar that could mean anything from an evening going over old photos or playing bridge with her cronies. Regardless, he was in. Dagmar was the last of his family and he loved her.

His mother was Dagmar’s niece. He’d known her all his life. When he was little, he and his mom would fly up to Washington and spend the holidays with her. Unlike Seattle, the eastern part of the state usually had snow in December. Everything about staying with Dagmar had seemed magical—especially the hill out back and the sled she kept for him.

As she’d approached her retirement, she’d wanted to sell her place and move to Silver Pines. When she refused to relocate to Seattle, Thaddeus had insisted on buying the house she had now, telling her to keep the proceeds from her house sale for whatever she needed. Not that she would ever go wanting—he would make sure of that. But he knew she enjoyed being independent.

He wrapped his arm around her as they walked into the house. “What have you planned for us tonight?”

“Dinner with a friend.”

They went into her living room. He saw she’d set out appetizers on the coffee table and the ingredients for cocktails on her kitchen island.

“Who’s the friend?” he asked, moving into the kitchen and studying what she’d left out for him. There was his usual bottle of Scotch, along with a bottle of bourbon. Beside that were a bowl of sugar cubes, sliced oranges and Angostura bitters. Next to that were several highball glasses, an ice bucket and a bottle of club soda.

He added a sugar cube to the highball glass, then sprinkled it with the bitters. After adding a splash of soda, he muddled the mixture until it coated the bottom of the glass. He added ice and bourbon before gently mixing the drink and garnishing it with an orange slice. When that was done, he poured himself a Scotch and joined her on the sofa.

They clinked glasses.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

She waved away the question. “I’m in perfect health, my love. At least as much as one can be at my age.” She laughed. “Now I want to talk to you about doing me a favor.”

“Of course.”

“I need you to seduce one of my friends.”

Thaddeus was pleased that he managed to stay seated and not react in any way beyond taking a very healthy slug of his drink.

“No.”

Dagmar pursed her lips. “But you haven’t heard me out.”

He reached for one of the chilled shrimp on a plate. “I would throw myself in front of a bullet for you or give you a kidney, but there is nothing you can say or do to convince me to have sex with one of your octogenarian friends.”

“What if she’s in amazing shape?”

Something he didn’t want to think about. “No.”

His great-aunt’s smile turned sly. “What if she’s not eighty?”

“I’m not sure her being in her sixties makes a difference. Why are you setting me up?”

“Technically I’m setting her up. Not that you don’t need a woman in your life. You do. The divorce was ages ago and while I’m sure the mindless sex you engage in is exciting in the moment, it has to leave you feeling empty afterward. Or am I assuming an emotional depth you don’t have?”

Better to have her think he was shallow than to tell her the truth, he thought humorously. There was no way he wanted Dagmar to know he was actively seeking a relationship. She was nothing if not determined and if she started looking for his future wife, then God help him.

“Why are you setting up your friend?”

She looked at him over her glass. “Don’t for a moment think that I didn’t notice your slick change of subject. But fine. We’ll talk about Unity.” She smiled. “She’s thirty-four and very sweet. She’s a handyman.” Dagmar held up a hand. “An unusual occupation, but I thought you’d find that intriguing. She’s tall and very athletic.”

“Please don’t tell me she has a great sense of humor.”

“As a matter of fact, she does, but she’s also very pretty. But you worrying about that isn’t fair. Not everyone can be beautiful.”

“How would you know? You’ve always been a looker.”

“And this is why I love you. Now about Unity. She’s been a widow for three years and she’s having trouble getting back in the game.”

He shook his head. “There’s no game.”

“Of course there’s a game and I miss it desperately. But that’s neither here nor there. You’ll like her and you should have sex with her.”

“When I first meet her or did you want me to wait?”

Dagmar rolled her eyes. “You’re so difficult. Whenever it’s appropriate. Just show her a good time. She needs to remember what it’s like to be young and single and still have firm breasts.”

“You’ve never set me up before.” Something he was grateful for.

“As I explained, I’m setting up Unity.”

“So I’m being used.”

“Yes, but for a good cause. Besides, you like a challenge and I have a feeling she’s going to be that. Are you interested?”

To go out with Dagmar’s sad friend? “No. I can find my own women.”

“And yet you remain single.”

“I’m not married. There’s a difference.”

“Not one I can see. Darling, don’t you want more?”

He had a feeling she didn’t mean his drink.

The doorbell rang, saving him from answering. Dagmar smiled and rose to let in her guest. It was only as she opened the door it occurred to him that “dinner with a friend” was going to be dinner with the widow his great-aunt wanted him to seduce.

He thought briefly of bolting out the back door before reluctantly standing. Dagmar returned, a tall blonde at her side.

“Thaddeus, this is Unity. Unity, my great-nephew, Thaddeus.”

“Hello,” he said with a neutral smile.

She had long blond hair and big blue eyes. She was about five-ten, with broad shoulders and long legs. Not a beauty, but pretty enough, he supposed. Unlike his great-aunt’s, Unity’s clothing choices were designed to blend in. She wore a white T-shirt over khakis and absolutely no makeup.

His first impression was she wasn’t anything close to his type. His second was to be surprised at her obvious shock at the sight of him.

“I’m not sure I knew you had a great-nephew,” she said, looking between them.

“I am pretty special,” he murmured.

Dagmar shot him her “Really? Do we have to?” look before smiling at Unity. “I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before. However, I know you’ve never met until now.”

No doubt by design, he thought. “She’s been keeping you a secret, as well,” he said, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Unity.”

She still looked confused as they shook hands. Dagmar guided them to the sofa, careful to take a club chair for herself.

“Be a dear and get Unity a drink.” Dagmar waved her glass. “Thaddeus makes a wonderful old-fashioned. Of course Thaddeus has other skills, don’t you, darling?”

He ignored her and went into the kitchen to make Unity her drink. When he delivered it, he took Dagmar’s empty glass from her, leaning close to murmur, “You’re laying it on a little thick.”

She smiled. “It’s a style thing.”

He made another old-fashioned. When they were all seated again, Dagmar beamed at them both. “Isn’t this lovely? I’ve been waiting for the right moment to introduce you two.”

Unity looked more baffled than intrigued. She shifted uncomfortably before glancing at him. “So, um, what do you do?”

“He’s a farmer,” Dagmar said.

“I’m not a farmer.”

“You farm,” his great-aunt reminded him. “You’ve told me.” She looked at Unity. “It’s all very confusing. The man lives in Bellevue, so I genuinely don’t understand how it all works, but he’s very successful.”

He thought about explaining he hadn’t farmed in the way most people thought then decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. Instead he smiled and said, “I sold the farm.”

“What do you do now?” Unity asked.

“Some real estate development. Property management. Business turnarounds.”

“He’s very successful,” Dagmar added helpfully.

“That’s a lot,” Unity said, looking more uncomfortable by the second. She’d yet to take a sip of her drink and her fingers clutched the glass so tightly, he was afraid the crystal would shatter.

Unable to help himself, he took the drink from her and put it on the coffee table. She stared at her empty hand, then at him and flushed.

Thaddeus had been in dozens of relationships—some lasting all of two nights and one ending in marriage. None of them had been especially successful. Regardless, he considered himself fairly experienced when it came to women. Unity showed all the signs of someone completely out of her element. She was scared and uneasy and, if her darting glances toward the door were any indication, wishing she could run for freedom.

Which meant she’d had no idea he was going to be here, meaning the setup had been on both sides. What was up with that? Dagmar rarely got into his business. So why was this time different and why was Unity so apprehensive? If Dagmar had never talked about him, then all she knew was what she saw.

He was clear on how the outside world viewed him. He was tall, fit and good-looking enough to be appealing, but not so pretty that it got in the way. He commanded attention and understood his place in the world. But he wasn’t anyone to fear.

“What do you do, Unity?” he asked, deliberately keeping his voice quiet.

“I, ah, own a handyman business. My customers are local. We do home repairs.”

“She’s wonderful,” Dagmar added. “Everyone adores her. She has several employees, all retired men who know exactly what to do in any given situation.”

Unity managed a smile. “They work part-time for me.”

“Did you grow up in the area?”

She brightened. “I did. I went to school here. I married when I graduated and Stuart joined the army. I went with him after he finished basic training.” She paused. “He, um, died three years ago. I moved back here then.”

The widow part. He’d forgotten about that. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

“Unity is very involved with the Silver Pines community,” Dagmar said.

Unity winced. Thaddeus had no idea why.

“A lot of the activities are open to the public,” she said. “I’ve taken a few classes. Until recently I was on the pickleball league.” She met his gaze. “Do you play?”

“Pickleball? It’s not my sport.” He and Freddy had a couple of pickup basketball games they liked to join. Pickleball? Was that like badminton with a tennis ball? Ah, no.

Unity reached for her glass. Her hand shook so much, she couldn’t pick it up. She quickly pulled back her arm and tucked it behind her.

Thaddeus had impressed his share of women but he’d never petrified one before. He stood and looked at his great-aunt.

“Could I speak to you for a moment, please?”

Dagmar put down her drink and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

“We’ll be right back,” he told Unity, then led Dagmar down the hall to her bedroom. When he’d shut the door behind them, he exhaled. “This has got to stop. The poor woman is actually trembling with fear.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I had no idea she would be so—” Dagmar waved her hand. “I can’t even describe it.”

“I’m going to go.” He shook his head before she could speak. “Whatever your plans were for this evening, they’re not going to happen. You have a nice dinner with Unity and I’ll see you later.”

“But I wanted to spend time with you.”

“I wanted the same, but it’s not as if you can ask her to leave. I’ll come back soon. I promise.” He kissed her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They returned to the living room. Unity looked at him.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

Thaddeus smiled at her. “It is, however I need to start my drive back to Seattle. It was very nice to meet you, Unity.”

She stood. “I hope I didn’t chase you off.”

“Of course not.”

Her mouth twisted. “It’s just I was surprised and I’m not very good at small talk and you’re a little imposing.”

Her honesty surprised him. “I’m far from imposing.”

“Have you seen yourself?” She flashed him a smile. “But it was nice to meet you. Next time I’ll do better. Oh, wait. I should go so you two can—”

Without thinking, he took her hand in his. As his fingers curled around hers, he felt an unexpected jolt of heat and interest. Because it made all the sense in the world that he would be attracted to a woman who literally quaked in fear around him.

“You stay. I insist,” he said, releasing her and stepping back.

He kissed Dagmar’s cheek again, then let himself out. As he walked to his car, he told himself that when he got back to Bellevue he would work out for an hour, get to bed early and start fresh in the morning. There were several billion people in the world and at least half of them were women. Surely he could find one, just one, who was the right one for him. Or at least semiright or half-right. At this point, he wasn’t looking for a miracle, he just wanted a good woman to love and a couple of kids. Even if lately, that had felt like wishing for the moon.

Keith walked in his house and threw his keys into the basket on the table by the back door. The bus he was taking on the college road trip had been serviced and declared ready for the twenty-four-hundred-mile journey. He didn’t want to jinx anything, but he had a feeling he was just about ready.

He walked into the family room and saw Lissa curled up on the sofa, reading. In the second before she looked up and acknowledged him, he took a moment to deal with the reality that his baby girl was growing up.

She’d turned seventeen two months ago and she was about to be a senior in high school. Gone were the gap-toothed smile and the pigtails. In their place were short-shorts and a young woman who looked closer to thirty than ten. It wasn’t anything he was happy about, but he’d yet to figure out a way to stop time.

He crossed to where she was on the sofa and took a seat on the coffee table in front of her. Reluctantly, she put down her book and stared at him.

“Hi,” he said pointedly.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Whatcha reading?”

She held up a paperback with a kissing couple on the cover. “Want it when I’m done?”

He recoiled. “No, thanks.”

She smiled. “You sure? Maybe you could learn a few moves.”

He ignored that. “The bus is ready for the trip. You have everything you need?”

She sighed heavily. “It’s a road trip, Dad. I don’t need anything special.”

“But you’ll be visiting the colleges we’re stopping at. Walking around campus, getting a feel for them.”

“Dad, you’re making this more than it is. I’m fine.”

“Which of the colleges are you most interested in? UCLA? University of Oregon?”

Her brown eyes, the same color as his, glazed over. “I have no idea.”

“But there must be one you want to see.”

“Not really.”

She’d been like this for a while, he thought, frustrated by her lack of interest in college. “Lissa, you’re going to be a senior. College applications go out in the fall. So far you haven’t mentioned one school that you like, you won’t talk about your major, nothing. What’s going on?”

She shifted so her feet were flat on the floor. “Why are you pushing me? What’s the big deal? It’s just college, Dad. I’ll get there, but not with you in my face, every second of every day.”

“I’m not in your face.”

“You’re sitting less than two feet from me. What would you call it?”

“I’m curious and supportive. Lissa, what’s going on? You know you’re going to have to make some decisions about your future. You’re not going to be in high school forever. At some point you have to grow up and take responsibility for yourself.”

“And you can’t wait for that, can you?” she snapped, coming to her feet. “You’re just like those birds that push their babies out of the nest. You know what, Dad? Sometimes the babies can’t fly. Sometimes they crash to the ground and they die.”

With that horrific image, she stalked out of the room, down the hall and slammed her bedroom door behind her.

Keith held in a groan. Lately it seemed all his conversations with her were going off the rails and he had no idea why. Was it him? Was it her? Was it a generic teenage thing?

He rubbed his face wishing he were doing a better job at raising a teenage daughter. Maybe if Becky lived closer. But his ex-wife was still in Missoula and had very little contact with Lissa.

Keith shifted to the sofa and leaned his head back. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, he thought. He’d married Becky with the best of intentions. Okay, sure, she’d been pregnant, but he’d been happy about that. Maybe that had forced them to rush things, but he’d been in love with her.

Keith had been drafted by the NFL out of the University of Oklahoma. His five-year career had been spent with him mostly on the bench, as a backup quarterback. He’d had a couple of great games, but not the career he’d hoped for. When his contract hadn’t been renewed, he’d transitioned to coaching at a small college in Montana.

He and Becky had divorced almost immediately. They’d coparented Lissa until Becky had remarried, once again pregnant before the wedding. After the first of two kids had been born, he’d taken on more and more responsibility for their daughter.

Five years ago, he’d been looking for a different kind of challenge when he’d been offered the athletic director position at Birchly High School. He’d thought Becky would fight him on the move, but she’d immediately agreed to give him sole custody of Lissa. At the time he’d worried his daughter would feel rejected by her mother, but she’d seemed happy with the relocation and had settled in nicely.

Now, he thought maybe he was dealing with some serious payback for not suffering before.

He forced himself to his feet. He might not know what to say to his daughter but that didn’t mean they shouldn’t be talking. He headed down the hall and stopped in front of her bedroom door.

“Lissa,” he said as he knocked. “Open up. I want to talk.”

There was no response.

“Lissa?” He waited. Again, nothing. “Lissa, either you open the door or I’m opening it for you.”

He waited thirty seconds, then tried the knob. It was locked. His irritation grew. Did she think she could frustrate him so easily? He went into his bedroom, opened a drawer and pulled out the long, skinny pick that would pop the lock.

Only when he opened her bedroom door, she wasn’t lying on her bed, glaring at him. She wasn’t anywhere. The window was open, the screen on the ground and his daughter was gone.

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