“Speaking of busy,” I say, “some kids broke one of the attic windows at the mountain house. Jay went up a couple weeks ago to check on it, and he ordered the window from Mr. Barton. He called me and said it was in. I guess I’ll need to go up there.” Although I’d rather not, especially by myself.

Scott, who’s been leaning against the kitchen door frame, holding a bottle of beer, straightens. “I can put it in for you, Molly. There’s no need for you to worry about it.”

“I appreciate that.”

Kim takes a deep breath. “It seems like a lifetime ago that we were all there.”

I half smile. Jay and I’d hosted our friends for a big Fourth of July week and my birthday celebration rolled into one.

“I can give you a hand, Scott,” Cal says.

“I can handle it,” Scott replies. “But either way.”

Hayes gives me a look. “Don’t take on too much right away, Molly. Jay said he boarded up that window.” Hayes’s gaze falls to the table. “He told me about it when we had lunch.”

Josh, who’s sitting next to Kim, his arm draped around her shoulders, says, “That road gets slick in the winter. And with the snowfall yesterday, you might want to wait.”

I shrug. “I guess there’s no rush.” And I’d just as soon not deal with the mountain house at all.

I fill my wineglass from the bottle sitting on the counter. Alice walks into the room carrying a tray of cookies. She’s wearing a lacy black dress and matching gloves that look like something out of early last century. She probably bought them at the vintage clothing store she likes so much.

“Are you going up to the mountain house, Molly?” she asks.

“At some point. I might have to.”

Alice sighs. She and Hayes were there last summer as well, and she spent her time sketching on the deck and collecting wildflowers by the river. “I could go with you if you want company.”

“That would be nice. I’ll let you know.”

She sets the platter on the counter. “Sadie’s at the back door. You want me to take her out?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Molly!” My mother calls from the living room. Alice grimaces, and we exchange a smile.

I’m pulled into the group from back home. My aunts, uncles, and a cousin who drove in from Albany. It’s not a group I’m close to or am comfortable around. My mom, who’s sitting on the sofa, reaches up a hand and squeezes mine. “Are you all right?” she whispers. “I haven’t seen you since we got back from church.”

“I’m fine. Just busy in the kitchen.”