It was the view. My house might be a decrepit pile of mold and decaying wood, but damn, that view. Because my house was on a little hill, I could watch both the sunrise and the sunset. Every morning, I woke up to the sun streaming in my room at the literal crack of dawn. I’d take Pepper out and let her romp and chase the dead leaves, and we’d watch the sun come out from behind the clouds, beams of light stretching out their arms. I’d sit on the porch with my coffee, listening to the birds. Each week they got more vocal—the chickadees, red-winged blackbirds, blue jays, ducks and geese. A blue heron hung out at the bend of the river, just past the bridge.

At night, if I was home from my parents’ house in time, I’d watch the sun set over the water, and it was even more startling in its beauty than the sunrise. Sometimes, the sun would glitter over the ocean, not a cloud in the sky, and after it sank below the horizon, a band of yellow and gold would linger for an hour as the stars came out. Other times, the clouds would catch and throw the light in all the shades of color I knew and then some—dianthus pink, iridescent pale gold, French blue, Montserrat orange. This past week had been milder, and Pepper and I stayed out till the last bird sang, and the smell of earth was strong as the sky deepened bit by bit.

I’d sit there and watch and listen, and all the yoga classes in all the world didn’t make me feel this way. Still. Awed. I hadn’t come back to Stoningham for Noah—I couldn’t, not the way he’d demanded it of me, not under the weight of his expectations. But even though it was temporary, I was glad I was here now. The town was less insipid than I’d painted it as a teenager; the people were more layered than I’d imagined them to be. Maybe it had been a necessary exercise to prepare for the New York phase of my life. Maybe I’d had to minimize what home meant to me so I could leave it behind.

I loved my New York life. But I loved this, too. I was . . . happy.

Happy. Even though I was here for a terrible reason, the happiness, the peace, snuck in. Right now, there was nowhere else I should be, could be or wanted to be.

— —

The dinner party did not get off to a great start.

For one, Alexander was running late. “Babe. I’m so sorry, but this traffic is horrible.”

“Well, what time did you leave?” I asked.

“At four.”