Lindy had owned the shop for as long as Caroline could remember. She was a talented seamstress and quilter who had generously given Caroline access to the machines in her workroom, as well as basic lessons in sewing and patternmaking.

“This is Echo Sanders,” Lindy said. “Another rising star.”

Echo’s cheeks reddened in a bashful blush. “We’ll see,” she said.

“My goodness, we go way back, don’t we?” Lindy said.

Ever since she was old enough to thread a needle, Caroline had dreamed of designing and making clothes. Discovering, thanks to a trip to Portland with Lindy, that such a thing as design school existed. Lindy had given her a catalog from the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York, and Caroline was a goner. With relentless focus, she had conquered patternmaking, sample sewing, grading, and sizing.

“I’ll always be grateful for all the time I spent here. You were such a fabulous teacher. I used to want to wrap the world in your vintage cotton prints.”

“And it appears you’re doing just that,” Lindy said, then turned to Echo. “She’s been working as a designer in New York.”

Echo leaned her elbows on the cutting table. “That sounds like a dream come true.”

“It’s . . .” Caroline glanced away. “It’s been quite a ride.”

“I hope we get a chance to catch up soon,” Lindy said.

“I’d like that. I don’t know where to start.” She sighed. “I’ve left New York. I’m looking for a way to get back on my feet.”

Lindy’s brow knit. “Back on your feet? Is everything all right?”

“It’s a long story,” Caroline said. “I lost a close friend in New York, and now I’m taking care of her kids—Flick and Addie. They’re five and six years old.”

“My goodness, Caroline. What happened? That is, if it’s not prying . . .”

“Not at all.” Caroline took a deep breath. “If I’ve learned anything through this, it’s that keeping secrets can be toxic. Angelique died of an overdose. I didn’t even know she had a drug problem. I’m pretty sure she was in an abusive relationship, too, and the biggest regret of my life is that I had my suspicions and didn’t do anything.”

“You weren’t her keeper.”

“I was her friend. I wish I’d known what to do. I mean, I asked questions, but obviously not the right questions to get a straight answer from her.”

Lindy’s expression changed. Her usual soft, professional facade hardened as she crossed her arms in front of her. “Let me guess. She said she tripped and fell. Bumped into a door. Banged herself on the subway.”

“Something like that,” Caroline agreed. “I thought she might be covering up, and I didn’t force the issue. I should have pushed harder to make her tell me what was going on.”

“You can’t. That never works.” Lindy’s voice was firm.

Caroline faced her onetime mentor and teacher, a woman who had seemed as steady and grounded as the lighthouses along the coast. Lindy was married to a banker, known for his work with the Rotary Club. “Lindy?” she asked softly. There was a feeling she recognized. A knowing. It was the feeling she’d had about Angelique, but she’d dismissed it. “Are you all right? I don’t mean to sound nosy, but—”

“No, ask away,” Lindy said. “You said it yourself just a moment ago—secrets can be toxic. And to answer your question, yes. I’m all right now. But for years, I was married to a man who hit me.”

Caroline pressed down on the cutting table to steady herself. She tried to reconcile her memories of Lindy and her scion-of-the-community husband. She’d scarcely known him. Mr. Bloom had always driven nice cars and worn bespoke suits. They had a gorgeous house with a swimming pool and endless ocean views. He’d attended church every Sunday. He’d seemed like the model citizen.

Caroline scrambled to take it all in. She’d known Lindy since she was a little girl, browsing through drawers of buttons and bolts of fabric. She had spent so many hours with her, nattering away, oblivious to a woman’s secret pain. A moment ago, she would have said she knew this person well. She was fast learning that everyone had hidden facets. To realize Lindy had been suffering all that time filled her with guilt. “I’m sorry for the trouble you had with your husband,” she said. “Are you all right now?”

Echo was listening intently. Lindy took a deep breath, and her expression softened. “I’ve been divorced for three years, and he moved away and I never have to see him again.”

“Oh, Lindy. I’m glad you’re not in that anymore.”

“Yes, I . . . Well, life is different since the divorce. Mostly in a good way. I’ve put off any thought of retiring. Part of claiming my freedom also means having to provide for myself. I’ve had to simplify my life considerably, as you can imagine, but I’m safe and sound.” She smiled across the table at Echo. “I won’t ever get rich running this shop, but I’ve never been happier.”

“I hope business is good.”

“It could always be better. I’m getting by.” Lindy’s smile was wistful.

“Honestly, I’m still in shock,” Caroline said. “I was as self-centered as any kid, and I had no idea you were going through such a horrible ordeal.”

“No one knew for a very long time. There are still people in town who don’t believe it. Because as I suppose you’ve gleaned by now, secrecy and shame are a big part of the syndrome.” Lindy took out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “I feel so silly, getting emotional after all this time. It’s just such a relief to talk about these things.”

“Listen,” Caroline said to her, “the last thing you should be feeling is silly. No one should have to suffer through something like that.”

Lindy offered a wobbly smile. “I’ve always liked you, Caroline. You have a good heart.”

It didn’t feel that way. She’d been oblivious. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Caroline asked. “I mean, I know you’re safe now, but if you need something . . .”

“The talking,” Lydia said. “Just like this. It does help.”

“Yes,” Echo said, her voice barely audible. “The listening, too.” She was staring down at the table. Her hands were tense on the cutting mat.

Lindy patted Caroline’s arm. “Echo and I have something in common. We’re both survivors.”

“Oh, God. You too?” Caroline felt as if the curtains had been swept aside, revealing a hidden world she’d never imagined.

Echo lifted her gaze. “I walked away from a man who took everything from me. I’m still picking up the pieces. Lindy’s been kind enough to give me a job here. I used to work sewing at a fabricator down in Astoria, making gloves and outerwear for the military. But they lost their government contract and laid everyone off. I guess they’re moving all their fabrication work offshore like everyone else.”

Caroline thought about her purpose coming into the shop, and now she dismissed the idea. “I’d love to talk to you more sometime,” she said to both women. “That is, if it’s not painful. There’s so much I don’t know about what my friend was facing. I owe it to her kids to understand.”