“No, you should come home and sleep it off. Come on. Mum, thank you. We have to get going.” They muttered a minute, talking about her, no doubt.

As soon as they were in the car, Oliver said, “What on earth is going on with you?” His voice was sharp.

“Um . . . nothing?”

“You were really off tonight.”

“Why?”

“You’re pissed, for one.”

“You know what, Oliver? It’s kind of hard to see my father like this. Then he recognizes that woman? Not me, not Sadie, and God forbid, not Mom. Some woman he barely knows.”

“So that makes it all right for you to get drunk at your mum’s party? Does that make it easier on anyone?”

“Yes, Oliver. It makes it easier on me.” She looked at him. “Don’t be mad. I’m just a little”—past my prime at work and hiding a horrible secret about my father and considering a job as a smoke jumper and not sure our older child loves me anymore and a little terrified that you’ll leave me someday—“stressed. Take me home and ravish me.”

“I don’t think so,” Oliver said. “I don’t ravish drunk women.”

“Even your wife, who just asked you to?”

“When you’ve sobered up, I’d really like us to have a meaningful conversation.”

Shit. Panic threaded through her foggy brain. “About what?”

“Darling. You’re drunk. You had at least three glasses of wine.”

“In England, that would be called a good start.”

“You haven’t been yourself lately, and it’s not just your dad, though of course that’s hard. But something’s off, and it has been for months.”

“Pull over.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna puke.”

And so her evening ended, barfing in front of the McMasterons’ house, her husband sighing and holding back her hair.

So much for seduction.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Barb

LeVon was leaving us.

I knew the day would come, but I cried just the same. He was going to Rose Hill Rehabilitation and Care Center a half an hour north, the place Genevieve London had endowed before her death. LeVon would be director of patient services, and of course I couldn’t begrudge him the change. He said it was his dream job.

“We’ll stay friends,” he said over tea, kindly covering my hand with his. “And I can recommend some great caregivers and therapists.”

I nodded. “You’re irreplaceable, LeVon.” I had to wipe my eyes on a napkin.

“I think you’re pretty amazing yourself, Barb. A lot of people fall apart when something like this happens.”

“They must not be from Minnesota.” He laughed, those kind eyes and ready smile. I squeezed his hand. “If I’d ever had a son, I hope he would’ve been like you, LeVon.”