It was a brilliant year. Juliet was so proud of me, and I knew this because she told me. Often. When that first year was up, I decided to wait till after the holidays to tell John I wanted a divorce. Why punish the grandkids over Christmas? Because of course they’d be upset. Our fiftieth anniversary was January 10; I’d do it then, since the fact that we barely acknowledged the date would provide a perfect lead-in. I was tired of dragging the corpse of our marriage behind me. It was over.

On January 9, he had the stroke.

Four hours after I got the call from the paramedics, I found out my husband had a mistress.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Juliet

We’re just so sorry to hear about your father,” said Dave Kingston, one of the partners at DJK Architects, the K in the DJK. “If there’s anything you need—extra time off, more flexibility to work from home—you just let us know.”

“Thank you, Dave. I really appreciate it. And the flowers were beautiful. My mom really appreciated them.” The fact that part of Juliet would rather see her father die than deal with his adultery . . . well, best not to go there right now. A wave of love for that same father washed over her, and she had to swallow the tears in her throat. Not now. Not now. It was becoming her mantra.

Juliet sat in the conference room of DJK with Dave; Dave’s personal assistant, the ever-silent and slightly terrifying Laurie, who took notes at every meeting Dave ever had; and Arwen Alexander. That Arwen was here was . . . disturbing.

Dave had been Juliet’s boss since he hired her out of Yale. He wasn’t a bad boss, not by a long shot, but he had a way of letting her know how grateful she should be to work there. She hadn’t missed the extra time off, the more flexibility.

She’d taken all of three days off, thank you. The firm’s HR policy gave her three weeks of sick time, which included family illness. The last time Juliet had taken a sick day was four years ago, because, like their mother, the girls almost never got sick, having the immune systems of Greek deities. And when Juliet worked from home, she worked longer hours than if she were at the office, and she had the time sheets and productivity to prove it. But at the age of forty-three, she felt her worth to the company was something she shouldn’t have to prove. She’d been here almost seventeen years and worked on many billion-dollar buildings, delighting clients, leading teams, dealing with crises and labor issues, managing projects on time and sometimes even under budget, which, in the world of large-scale construction, was akin to calling Lazarus forth from his tomb.