“Let’s finish the tour,” Sierra said. “I’ll show you the rest of our money pit.”

Caroline made no comment as she followed Sierra upstairs. Reconnecting with her friend was uncomfortable, to say the least. They used to tell each other everything, but that used to mean confessing what you found in your mom’s underwear drawer or that you sneaked a bottle of communion wine from church. This conversation was a new level of everything.

Sierra showed her a freshly painted guest room and a smaller bedroom filled with stacked and labeled moving boxes.

“This is supposed to be the baby’s room,” Sierra said. “Will wants kids so bad.”

“You’re telling me a lot about what he wants. What about you?”

She shrugged. “I keep thinking there’s got to be something wrong with me. He’s wonderful, and I’m horrible. I feel like a fraud.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Caroline said. “It’s just . . . relationships can be hard. God knows, you’re looking at proof of that.”

“So, no one special?” asked Sierra.

“No. I mean . . . I went out with guys. I fell in love a time or two. At least I think I did. And then . . .” She winced, remembering the soaring elation, followed by the sinking disappointment of the emotional roller coaster. “I wanted to find that one thing that would last. And you know what? I did. I did find it. But there was a twist—that one thing was not a guy. It was my career. Now I’ve left that behind. So it’s kind of like a breakup I wasn’t ready for.”

“You’ll figure something out. That project you’re doing for the school—isn’t that a start? You’re one of the most clever, creative people I know.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.” She had poured all her energy, all her heart into the Chrysalis line, pinning her hopes and dreams like shiny beads to the gossamer fabrics. She wondered when the feeling of violation would fade. When she would find the confidence to begin anew.

“Well, I could use your help.” Sierra opened a closet. “I outgrew the space in the master bedroom.”

“Great, so now I’m a closet organizer.”

“That’s not what I meant. I’ve got a thing coming up,” Sierra said. “Not a modeling gig, but a meeting about producing a high-end shoot. I need to dress like someone they’ll take seriously.”

“Now that I can help with,” said Caroline. “Cool, elegant, or trendy?”

“Can I be all of the above?”

“You already are.”

As they sorted through the clothes, old memories surfaced. They were kids again, best friends.

Caroline found a blouse in watered silk and paired it with a pencil skirt. They tried a few accessories, settling on a look with a bold arm cuff, shoes, and a bag.

“You’re in your element,” Sierra said.

“I’ve styled so many models.” She paused. “My friend Angelique—Flick and Addie’s mother—was one of the best runway models in New York. She came from Haiti and blasted to the top of her game. And then she died of an overdose.”

“Oh, my sweet God above.” Sierra shuddered. “I’m so sorry. Those poor kids.”

“I’m constantly haunted by it. A few months before she died, I noticed she had some injuries. Bruises.”

“You mean track marks? Needle marks?”

“No. Somebody hit her.”

Sierra gasped. “That’s horrible. But you know, it’s a thing. I’ve seen it in the modeling world. Girls start so young. They don’t know how to deal with the business, and they’re so desperate to make it that they’ll put up with anything.”

Caroline looked at her. “Did it ever happen to you?”

“No,” Sierra said swiftly. “God, no. I was hit on, but not hit. I knew how to handle myself.”

“I’m not surprised. I wish more women could say that.” She paused, hesitant to share an idea in its first stage. Then she realized her friendship with Sierra was coming into its own again. “My sisters and I are setting up a support group for survivors of domestic violence. Turns out it’s more common than any of us knew. I think it’ll help me deal with Flick and Addie.”

“No kidding? That’s good, Caroline. Really.”

“After what happened to Angelique, I’ve been feeling so powerless. This is something. It might add up to a big fat nothing, but it feels right. There are women who need help, right here in our town. I can’t go back and rescue Ange. But the more I learn about domestic violence and addiction, the better I’ll be able to help Flick and Addie.”

“Well. So it sounds like you’re sticking around for a while.”

“I don’t know what else to do. God, I feel so stuck.”

“Join the club.” Sierra hung the outfit in the closet. “I’ve missed you,” she said. “I’ve missed having someone who gets me. Someone I can say anything to without worrying about being judged.”

Wasn’t that supposed to be the husband’s role? Caroline wondered.

They went outside together. Will had hung a swing from the biggest tree in the yard, and the kids were taking turns on it.

“They’re never going to leave,” Caroline said.

He laughed briefly and gestured at the three of them. “Look at us. We got the band together again.”

“What band?” asked Flick.

“We were never a band,” Caroline said. “It’s just a saying. When we were kids, the three of us spent our summers together. We were inseparable. Do you know what inseparable means?”

Addie shook her head.

“It means we were almost never apart. We got together every single day and had adventures.”

“Speaking of adventures,” Will said, “I need to pick up some things at the lumberyard.”

“Can I go?” Flick piped up. He was clearly already hero-worshiping Will.

“Maybe another time,” Caroline said.

“Definitely another time,” Will agreed, then strode toward the pickup truck parked near the barn.

“We were quite a trio,” Sierra mused. “I used to forget that you saw him first. Now I don’t think of it at all.”

Caroline threw her a sharp look.

“Tell me about when you were little,” said Flick. “Did you play right here? And on the dock?”

“We did. It looks pretty much the same,” Caroline said. “It’s just the way I remember.” Her gaze traced a path from the driveway to the front porch. “First time I ever came here, I was riding my bike. And Will, as I recall, was a frogman.”

“What?” Flick leaned forward.

“It’s true. When I met him, he was soaking wet, like a frogman.”

“What’s a frogman?”

“A guy who’s at home on land and in the water—both. Do you know how to swim?”

Both children shook their heads.

Caroline and Sierra exchanged a glance. “You’re peninsula kids now. We’ll have you swimming by the start of summer.”

Chapter 13