“Sure, I’ll do it,” I said. “You bet. But I better head back home. It was great seeing you.”

Rather than get back in my car, I walked through my old neighborhood, avoiding my street, which held too many memories. I didn’t see anyone I knew, not even Ronny, the homeless guy I used to buy breakfast for.

The feeling of disappearing slammed into me. Maybe I really was becoming invisible. What if I had a heart attack? Who would save me? Would anyone even notice? Would someone call 911?

In for three, hold for three, out for three, hold for three. I wouldn’t faint. I wouldn’t die (not yet, anyway). But my heart felt like a hard, dead thing inside my chest, heavy and useless.

I could really use some help here, Nathan, I thought. But from my dead husband, there was nothing.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Ainsley

The summer plodded through the dog days of August, when half of Cambry-on-Hudson left for Martha’s Vineyard or the coast of Maine. Despite the muggy weather, I rode my bike to work every day, through the park and cemetery. For some reason, I managed to show up on time every day, something I hadn’t managed with a car.

Jonathan and I were a couple. A real couple, and it was at turns wonderful and maddening. Sometimes I wanted to kick him, sometimes I wanted to crawl over him and lick every inch of his skin. At work, he was more anal-retentive than before, if such a thing was possible. But I tried to give him fewer reasons to get irritated with me. I did my work, stopped the online shopping...except for when Zappos had a huge one-day sale, and please, every woman in America was online that day, the website crashed (but not before I’d ordered three adorable pairs of shoes).

As I rode home through the park one soft evening, the sun turning the western sky purple and the most amazing shade of nectarine, I saw someone sitting in the cemetery.

It was Kate.

If she visited Nathan’s grave regularly, she never mentioned it. Since I’d taken to riding my bike, I stopped by, making sure the plantings were watered. Sometimes, there’d be a drawing from one of his nephews, which I tried not to look at, because they weren’t for me. Nonetheless, they made me cry—the sweet, childlike printing, the swirls of Crayola.

“Hey,” I called, getting off my bike and leaning it against a tree. “Want company?”

“Sure,” she said.

Nathan Vance Coburn III, loving husband, son and brother, a wonderful man, always smiling. There was a bouquet of fresh white roses there, from Kate, I assumed.

I sat next to my sister and put my arm around her, and she leaned her head against my shoulder, her hair tickling my cheek.

A year ago, this kind of interaction would’ve been out of the question. It just wouldn’t have been us.

It was us now.

“Today’s the one-year anniversary of the day we met,” she said.

“Oh, honey.” I squeezed her a little closer.

“It was this awful wedding, and he asked me out, and I thought he must be a serial killer or something.”

“But he wasn’t. Or he was really secretive about it.”

She gave a little snort.

“How’s Daniel?” I asked.

“We’re not... I haven’t seen him recently. That night was a mistake.”

I smoothed her hair out of my eye. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I can’t have a fling, Ainsley. I’m a widow.”

“So no sex forevermore?”

“Probably.”

“Well, I think you should cut yourself some slack. Let’s face it. Maybe it was the grief that drove you into his magnificent arms—” Another snort. “Or maybe it’s just that he likes you and you needed a little fun.”

“I feel like I cheated on Nathan.”

“You didn’t.” I paused. “Kate, you knew Nathan less than a year. You’re allowed to get over him, you know.”

Her head snapped up. “I loved him.”

“I know, honey. I do. But don’t do things because you feel like there’s a handbook you should follow. If Daniel makes you happy, let him. You don’t have to marry him next week.”

She sighed. “It all sounds very wise until you walk into the kitchen, all postcoital, and your dead husband’s sister is there with her hair falling out.”

“Yeah, that was bad. But you’re allowed to be alive, Kate. If you find something that makes you smile, don’t worry about it. Have fun. Nathan would want that. He was crazy about you.”

“Yeah. Me and his ex-wife.”

I had no answer for that. “Well, we hate her, so who cares? He loved you, Kate. You have to know that.”

She swallowed hard. “I do.”

I smoothed her hair back and gave her another squeeze. A red-winged blackbird sang from the top of a pine tree, and a train whistle sounded in the distance.

“Oh, there you girls are!”

We both jumped and turned. Candy, in the flesh, strode up through the graves, dressed in a red suit and black Manolos that made me start to drool with envy.

“How did you find us?” I asked.

“I have a GPS app on your phone, Ainsley.”

My mouth fell open. “You do?”

“Of course I do.”

“Why?”

“So I know where you are.” She gave me a puzzled look and sat down on Kate’s other side. “Is today a significant day?”

Kate sighed. “Nathan and I met a year ago today.”

“It’s important to acknowledge these milestones in your healing journey.” As always when talking about anything emotional, she sounded smug.

“Roger that.” Kate was a master at not being offended by our mother. Her mother. Whatever.

“So! I left your father, girls,” she said, lying back and folding her hands under her unnatural hair. “Don’t worry, I’m not moving in. You made it clear I’m not wanted.”

“You’re wanted,” Kate said. “Just not as a roomie.”

“I signed the papers on a little place of my own today. You know those condos right on the Hudson in Tarrytown? I bought one. I also signed another book contract. The Toxic Marriage: Why We Stay.”

“Wow,” I said, lying back, as well. The grass pricked the back of my neck, but the view of the sky was amazing. Also, this was big news, and lying down seemed appropriate. “Wow.”

Kate lay back, as well. “Why now, Mom?”

Candy sighed. “Oh, I had a client come in, and she reminded me of myself. Stuck in a stupid marriage, perpetually unhappy, and I heard myself telling her she had choices, and inaction was a choice, too, and I thought, Hello? Candace? You’ve been doing the same damn thing for thirty years.”

“I thought you loved Dad,” I said.

She didn’t answer for a minute. “I do,” she finally said, and her voice was smaller. “But let’s face it. He never got over your mother. Don’t be like that, Kate. Get over Nathan and live again.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

“I’m tired of being bitter,” Candy said. “I’d like to try something else.”

“Does Dad know?” I asked.

“I just called him. Left a voice mail. He’s working a Cardinals game.”

We were all quiet for a minute. A crow flew over us, cawing, the last of the sunlight turning its feathers iridescent.

“Why did you take him back, Mom?” Kate asked. “You were so angry when he divorced you. Sean and I thought you hated him.”