One afternoon I got a ride with Thomas and Jack as far as Paoli. I went into a Hallmark store and bought a card for Charlotte Adams. I’d looked at the whole selection. “Good Luck in Your New Home” seemed tactless, “Thank You” kind of strange. I bought a blank message card, one with Monet-like flowers. I didn’t know what I would write to her.

I walked the five miles back to the mountain, up North Valley Road to Diamond Rock, and started to climb, past the octagonal schoolhouse and up Horseshoe Trail Road. Locals along here had tried to make the road private-access, and sometimes they harassed the drivers who dared to come through. I wondered if anyone would give me trouble. I walked and walked. The road was gravel and full of potholes. I looked down at my Converse, now gray with wear and washing.

I’d nearly reached the point where the trail met the top of the mountain, below the Nike site, when I heard the crunch of gravel under wheels. There was a car behind me, going very slow. I stepped onto the grass verge so it could pass but didn’t look back, in case it was one of the crazy locals trying to keep it private. But the car didn’t pass. I stopped walking, and the car stopped. The ignition cut out; I could hear the fan still whirring. A door opened.

“Libby?”

I turned. Mrs. Boucher was standing at the open door of her Volvo.

“I thought it was you. I wasn’t sure because of your hair.”

I had developed an involuntary response when people mentioned my lost hair: I touched my neck.

I tried to smile at her, but my mouth wouldn’t work, and I could feel my lips twitching.

“Is everything okay with you and Ellen and all that happened? I heard about it. I should have checked to see.” I could tell Mrs. Boucher was nervous.

“Yes,” I said. “We were all fine.” Just Wilson was still recovering. The wires had been cut the week before, and he was coming back onto solid food. “How are Peter and Bruce?”

“Fine. In Florida on vacation right now with their dad and his new wife.”

“Oh. The wedding.” I had forgotten.

“Yeah. A few weeks ago. The same day as Charles and Diana. It was actually on purpose.” She laughed her wry laugh. And I rolled my eyes as if to say I know, how tacky. She shut the car door and walked around toward me. “Can we sit for a minute?” she asked.