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Back Adult Assembly Required
Chapters (58)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for Abbi Waxman and her novels
  3. Berkley Titles by Abbi Waxman
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Summer
  7. ONE
  8. TWO
  9. THREE
  10. FOUR
  11. FIVE
  12. SIX
  13. SEVEN
  14. EIGHT
  15. NINE
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. TWENTY
  27. TWENTY-ONE
  28. TWENTY-TWO
  29. TWENTY-THREE
  30. TWENTY-FOUR
  31. TWENTY-FIVE
  32. TWENTY-SIX
  33. TWENTY-SEVEN
  34. TWENTY-EIGHT
  35. TWENTY-NINE
  36. THIRTY
  37. THIRTY-ONE
  38. THIRTY-TWO
  39. THIRTY-THREE
  40. THIRTY-FOUR
  41. THIRTY-FIVE
  42. THIRTY-SIX
  43. THIRTY-SEVEN
  44. Fall
  45. THIRTY-EIGHT
  46. THIRTY-NINE
  47. FORTY
  48. FORTY-ONE
  49. FORTY-TWO
  50. FORTY-THREE
  51. FORTY-FOUR
  52. FORTY-FIVE
  53. EPILOGUE
  54. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  55. Readers Guide
  56. Questions for Discussion
  57. About the Author
  58. What’s next onyour reading list?

“Maybe,” said Bob.

Maggie opened her mouth to comment, when Asher spoke from the kitchen door, his voice slightly raised.

“Mom?”

Maggie turned. “Yes?” Her brows contracted; she could see from his face that something was up. “What is it?”

“Sarah’s here.”

A woman stepped past him onto the patio. “Ash, I don’t need an announcement, for crying out loud.” She was smaller than he was, and her hair was long, a tangled mass of curls that fell around her shoulders. She was beautiful and immaculately put together, wearing the kind of casual clothes that were anything but: the perfect white T-shirt, the perfect pair of jeans, the perfectly distressed suede jacket. Laura saw wealth all the time in Manhattan, and recognized it.

The woman walked carefully down the steps from the patio and evaluated Polly, Bob, and Laura, switching on a pro forma two-second smile that barely wrinkled her nose, let alone her eyes. Reaching Maggie, she leaned in and kissed her formally on both cheeks, her hands lightly resting on the other woman’s upper arms. Then she stepped back and looked around at the broken wall, the devastated vegetable patch.

“Bold landscaping choice,” she drawled. “You’ve done wonders.”

There was a pause, then Maggie cleared her throat and said, “Everyone, this is Sarah.” She paused. “My daughter.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

Sarah Morse was not what Laura expected. Having been introduced, Sarah made no effort to discover anyone’s names, but merely waved a lazy hand and turned to start walking back to the house. Her walk reminded Laura of a winning racehorse circling the paddock, proud and aware of its own success. After a fractional pause Maggie followed her, and once they’d both disappeared inside, Laura turned to Polly and Bob.

“Um . . . are we supposed to follow them?”

Polly shrugged. “No clue.” She clicked her tongue. “I’d forgotten how weird she was. She clearly doesn’t remember me at all.”

“She’s very beautiful,” said Laura doubtfully.

Bob sighed, and turned back to his vegetables. “Pretty is as pretty does,” he said, which made Laura giggle.

“That’s my grandmother’s favorite line,” she said.

Bob smiled a small smile and looked back at her. “Mine too.”

Polly raised her eyebrow. “Your favorite line?”

He shook his head. “My grandmother’s.”

Polly made a noncommittal noise. “My grandmother’s favorite line was Who the hell drank the last of the scotch?” She headed toward the house. “I’m going in. Something tells me Maggie might need backup.”

Laura hesitated. “Maybe we should go, too?” She raised her voice. “Pol, should I come with you?”

Polly shrugged, and turned around. “No need, I can take her.” Her eyes fell on the huge pile of roses. “Hey, can I have those roses?”

“Bob gave them to me,” said Laura without thinking, then caught herself, “but of course, take them inside.”

Polly raised her eyebrows. “Bob, she’s giving away your flowers.”