I was suddenly jealous of this Julie character. Imagine having a generous aunt to move in with. I had spent the first few nights since I fled Juniper Shores at my childhood home with my parents. But they were not generous. At least, not in spirit. I had reached the point yesterday that figuring out what to do next on my own had seemed more palatable than one more moment in Chapel Hill. Plus, Iris started school today. I wanted to maintain as much normalcy for her as possible, so I would just figure this out. Surely the feds wouldn’t keep us out of our house more than a week or so. Two weeks, tops.

“And then her best friend, Grace, split with her husband when he decided to take a job in Tokyo. It was amicable, but she was left with two kids, and she felt, um…” Alice paused. “Overwhelmed by the idea of doing it all alone.”

There was definitely more to that story… “It’s nice to have community,” I agreed.

“So she moved in here too.”

My eyes widened. “Are you kidding me? You just took these women in? With all their kids?”

She laughed. “I never had children, and I’d always wanted to experience a slice of motherhood.” She shrugged. “Plus, it was a bed-and-breakfast, so we were already set up for communal living.”

“Wow,” I said, incredulous. Who was this woman? She was either a saint or a lunatic. Did I want to find out which?

“Then Joy, the mom of a student I taught at the elementary school, lost her job and had to sell her house and needed a place to stay while she got back on her feet. So she moved in here too with her two teenagers.”

“So, you’re running, like, a lost ladies’ hostel?”

She laughed. “Sort of. We call ourselves the mommune.”

I laughed too. “The mommune. That’s really cute.”

“Everyone has responsibilities around the house based on what they do best. I do a lot of the driving because Julie and Joy have traditional jobs. But Grace works from home, so she does most of the cooking and shopping—she’s a fabulous cook. We split up chores and bills, and it just generally makes life a lot easier.”

I couldn’t tell if this was the weirdest thing I’d ever heard or the most sensible. “Like a sorority house for grown-ups?” I asked.

“Does it sound crazy? I’ve lost perspective.”

“No, not crazy,” I decided suddenly. “Kind of brilliant, actually. When you can’t be around, there’s another mom there to do your mom things.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Alice said. “Because I was thinking maybe you could be one of those moms.”

I was at once totally sure of what she was saying and not sure at all. “What?”