SATURDAY AFTERNOON, WILLOW AND TWO OF HER OLDER COUSINS greet me at the door. I don’t want to be here. It’s difficult to look into my friend’s eyes, knowing what I know about her husband. Not to mention that everyone at the party, thanks to the media, knows who I am now. Knows Melinda Wright.

The girls are all smiles; the oldest, a middle schooler with long brown hair, offers to place my present on the table. I reluctantly give it up, feeling more exposed without the brightly wrapped box to hide behind. And I’d left Sadie at home since Willow is allergic, and that makes me feel exposed as well. Willow slips her small, sweaty hand into mine and peers up at me with Kim’s large brown eyes. It’s as if she knows my fears, as though we’re kindred souls; maybe we are. Her short life has been marked by challenges, and crowds are tough for her too, even if they are friends and relatives. I take a deep breath. If she can be brave, I can too.

The family room is alive with laughter and movement. Kim’s parents sit side by side on the sofa. I haven’t seen them since Jay’s funeral. So much has happened since then. Kim’s dad relates a story with arms waving, his audience captive. They’re a happy family. Growing up, I spent a lot of time at their house and always felt envious. The solid ordinariness of them. Strong, supportive, joking. There were no skeletons in their many closets. No therapy appointments noted on the kitchen calendar, no walking on eggshells while talking around the dinner table. They were the family I’d always wanted us to be.

Josh is rushing drinks to and from the kitchen. Kim jumps up from her chair and moves to my side. She looks beautiful, her long dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders, her eyes shining. She’s totally oblivious to her husband’s treachery, and I feel guilt throb in my stomach as she squeezes me in her arms and whispers in my ear.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” She takes me by the hand. “Let’s get you a glass of wine.”

I wave and nod to everyone as we head for the other room.

Cal and Hayes are sitting at the kitchen table drinking beer. They both look at me with unsure smiles, not knowing what to do or say, I guess, but I’m not going to talk about Melinda Wright. Not here, not now.

The wine is perfect, tangy and rich. I take another sip. “I need to run to the restroom.” I say, taking my glass with me. I walk down the hallway to the powder room and run into Josh.

He pastes a smile on his face. “Glad you’re here, Molly.”