“Nope,” said Polly. “I was briefly married, but we never got engaged.”

“How long were you married?” asked Asher curiously.

“Thirty-six hours,” said Polly. “I was married and separated in the space of a weekend.” She gazed out into the garden. “It seemed like a completely brilliant idea at the beginning, but it wore off.” She squirmed around in her seat and tugged down the top of her pajama pants. There, on her hip, was a tattoo of two rings and a date, with the date crossed out and JK! tattooed next to it in ironic Comic Sans.

“It’s a very important commitment,” said Polly. “You have to be sure you’re ready, ’cause you’re living with it forever.”

“Yeah,” said Bob. “I guess that’s why most people get engaged first.”

Polly looked surprised. “I suppose . . . I was talking about crappy tattoos, but you’re not wrong.”

•   •   •

A little later Bob walked quietly down the hall as he headed to bed. Passing Laura’s door, he overheard her talking sweetly on the phone, asking someone to forgive her. As he’d been tidying the kitchen he’d seen the card from the flowers in the trash. Unable to stop himself, he’d read it:

I love you, please come home.

—Nick

His mouth tightened and he hurried to his own room, ready to close the door on the day and on any hopes he’d ever had about Laura. No big deal. It didn’t matter at all.

FOURTEEN

Back in the garden, Asher looked across the table at his mother and wondered when she’d gotten old. She was as lovely as ever, full of beans and vivid curiosity, but she looked . . . tired in a way he’d not noticed before.

“So,” he said, pouring himself the last of the red wine, “what else is new? I’ve heard all the neighborhood stories, what about you?”

Maggie shrugged. “You know all there is to know, which is to say, nothing. I play cards with my friends, I work, I read, I cook, nothing’s changed.”

“Just new tenants.”

She nodded. “Just that. New tenants, new clients, same old me. It’s like a soap opera; every so often there’s a cast change, but the show keeps on running.” She smiled. “I’m not sure that made sense.” She rubbed her forehead and tried to summon more energy. She’d been incredibly excited to see her son and she was still filled with joy that he was home, but she was also really tired and it was way past her bedtime.

Asher laughed. “I got it. How’s Ollie? I haven’t even seen him.”

Maggie said, “He’s probably in Polly’s room. She’s slightly allergic, I think, so of course he tries to spend as much time on her as possible.”

“Who wouldn’t?” said Asher, and immediately kicked himself. He didn’t dare look at his mother.