“Then I would be sad, sleep deprived, and fat.”

“How can you be sad if you’re eating a cookie?” Sierra asked.

Libby laughed. “I appreciate you; I really do. I’m just having one of those nights. You know how it goes; you think you’re finished with an emotion, and then it doubles back on you.”

“You’re right about that.”

“Really, I’m fine.”

“You can sleep on the couch here. Mom said this morning she already missed you.”

“Thanks. But it’s time I graduate to my big-girl bed.”

“You can get a new, real bed. The feng shui of abundance.”

“Saying goodbye now, Sierra.”

“Have breakfast with Mom and me,” she added quickly. “I bet she has something on Elaine.”

And there was the carrot Libby could not resist. “What time?”

“Seeing as you’re pulling an all-nighter, how about seven?”

“I’ll be there.”

The all-nighter ended at three o’clock, when Libby—finally too tired to clean, polish, or worry—retreated to the couch in her living room. She lay back on the sofa, hoping she would not stare at the popcorn ceiling until dawn as caffeine, memories, and what-the-hells raged in her system. Fortunately, the next thing she knew, the sun had risen, and her phone was ringing.

She cleared her throat and raised the phone to her ear. “Sierra. What time is it?”

“Seven fifteen.”

She sat up and swung her legs over the side. Her head pounded, and her mouth was dry. “On my way.”

“Sounds like you slept.”

“No questions before coffee.”

“Understood.”

Libby rose, pulled the ponytail holder from her hair, and combed her fingers through her hair before refastening. She made a quick stop in the bathroom, then dashed out the back door and slipped through the small gap in the fence into Sierra’s yard just as she had done a million times as a kid.

She climbed the back steps and entered the kitchen as if it were still 2000, sans the dental braces and a plaid jumper. The smell of bacon and coffee reminded her that life was full of good things, and somehow the latest mess would sort itself out.

Mrs. Mancuso stood at the small stove, pushing a wooden spoon through her cast-iron skillet filled with scrambled eggs. She was several inches shorter than Sierra, and her once-dark hair was now peppered with gray, but she and her daughter both had the same high cheekbones, full lips, and expressive eyes. Mrs. Mancuso was wearing jeans, a blousy light-blue peasant top, and Birkenstocks.

“Morning, Mrs. M.” She kissed her on the cheek and reached for a coffee mug. “Thank you again for saving me.”

“Always, honey. Get a cup and sit. I want you two girls well fed. You two never sit.”

Libby poured, sipped several times, and began to feel a little more human as she sat at the kitchen table. “Where is Sierra?”

“If she can get out of the shower and stop fussing over what she’s going to wear, she’ll be right here,” Mrs. Mancuso said, frowning.

In an odd way, Libby was glad Sierra’s fashion obsession had remained intact. Any more change, and she would go nuts.

“Sierra said you were asking about Elaine Grant,” Mrs. Mancuso said.

“Yeah.” The hypercommunication between Sierra and her mother always amazed her, although it was not surprising.

“Elaine and I went to elementary school together, and then her grandmother Olivia sent her to boarding school. The same one you attended, as a matter of fact.”

“Small world. She was raised by her grandparents?” Libby asked.

“Yes. Her mom and dad died when she was in the third grade. It was a horrific car accident. Dr. and Mrs. Carter took her in without a second thought. She seemed to get on with things, but you know how that goes. Nothing’s the same afterward.”

“No truer words.” She swirled the coffee in her cup. “Did you see much of her after she enrolled in boarding school?”

“Sure. Summers—when she wasn’t working in her grandfather’s medical practice. She answered phones and filed. He was hoping she would end up becoming a doctor.”

“She became a lawyer.”

“A very successful one. And I would like to think that Dr. Carter would have been proud of that accomplishment. He and his wife built their entire world around Elaine.”

“Elaine said Olivia suffered miscarriages.”

“That would have been before my time. Elaine did say once her grandmother thought the family might be cursed. Mrs. Carter was always dressed to the nines, and she always had a big smile on her face. But when Elaine moved away after college, I think she lost her sense of purpose.”

“Where did Elaine go to college?”

“Princeton.”

“In New Jersey.”

“Yes.”

“After Mrs. Carter died, no one really lived at Woodmont?”

“There was the caretaker and his wife but no real life to speak of on the property.”

“And now Elaine is back,” Libby said.

“You know she’s sick, right?” Mrs. Mancuso said.

“I did.” She let the words dangle, hoping Mrs. Mancuso would fill in the pieces.

“Breast cancer. The surgeons think they got it all but advised on the chemo just to be sure.”

“And Elaine’s daughter. What’s her deal?”

“I barely know Lofton. She didn’t grow up around here.”

“I met her yesterday. She clearly loves her mother.” Lofton’s underlying irritation with Libby had to stem from fear. Libby was an unknown entity, and it made sense Lofton would be overprotective of a mother who was sick and perhaps vulnerable.

“Did Elaine have a boyfriend in college?” Libby asked.

“She dated Scott Waters during her freshman year, but he transferred to a school out west, and that ended that.”

“What year was that?”

“Umm, 1987-ish.”

Unless Scott had doubled back and reconnected with Elaine around the time of her conception, he was not the daddy. And she’d said she had not met Ted until she was twenty-three, which would have been after she was born.

“Why all the questions about Elaine?”

“Just curious. They had me to dinner last night, and I can’t really figure out why.”

“Have you thought about asking her?” Mrs. Mancuso said. “I have always thought the direct approach was the best.”

Libby called Elaine, knowing if she hesitated it would be like pulling a bandage off slowly. Better to just do it.

She dialed the number several times but each time put the phone aside and found a reason to watch the news, do a load of laundry, or edit the pictures from Saturday’s wedding.

Sierra then called at ten to say they had a loan officer appointment in two days, and that gave her something else to think about for around thirty minutes.

Finally, at noon, despite her best efforts, Libby had run out of delay tactics.

She dialed Elaine’s number and hit call. As she counted each ring, her heart thumped louder in her chest. After four rings, the call went to voice mail. “This is Elaine Grant. I can’t take your call right now, but if you leave me your number, I will return your call promptly.”