Now, the grandfather clock struck eleven, and the sound echoed desolately through the empty rooms.

Yes, it had been tiring and frustrating and chaotic before . . . but it had also been nice. Funny how one never realizes those things until the days are over, she thought morosely as she kicked off her heels and went to the kitchen. She tried to think of the times she’d had to adjust the thermostat to make it more comfortable for Evan and the other residents. Or helped her kids with homework despite her throbbing migraine. Or made dinner because Jenny, the nanny, wasn’t much of a cook. Or taken Max for his walk because no one else wanted to go in the cold.

This is SO much better, she told herself as she unpacked the Thai from the paper bag and poured it all out on the plate. She poured herself a glass of wine and took a sip. I can have a nice, quiet dinner. No distractions. And I can eat as much as I want, without feeling judged.

She sat down to eat and twined the noodles around her fork. As she brought it to her mouth, trying to enjoy its spicy-sweet taste, she heard the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer. When had that gotten so loud?

Diana opened her phone and turned on some soothing jazz. Better.

More Thai. It really was delicious, a perfect blend of peanuts, sriracha, and brown sugar. She practically inhaled more. Was it sad that this food was, by far, the best part of her day?

Probably.

She took a sip of her wine. I can also drink as much of this as I want. And likely, I will.

It made no sense. She and Evan had been on the rocks for over a year. He’d officially filed for divorce months ago. Four months ago, she’d found out he was dating one of Beatrice’s old classmates from high school. If there was ever a time to freak out about this arrangement, that would’ve been it.

And yet she’d been fine. Not a ripple. She’d thrown herself into her work, buried all her emotions.

But now? It was silly, but now she felt unsettled. Now something was gnawing at her gut. Now she felt a crazy desire to break out and do something wild.

And it had all started the second Macey told her about her solo trip to Spain.

“That’s because it’s your dream, Di,” she whispered to herself as she took a gulp of wine. “Well, not Spain. France. But Spain would be nice too. All of it, actually.”

Funny. She’d been building up the idea of traveling to Europe in her head all of these years

. . . and yet she was so busy taking care of everyone else, she hadn’t even realized it. But it was true. If she closed her eyes now, she could almost taste it like a warm buttered croissant—the historic buildings, the quaint villages, the culture, the food . . .