Best friends, I pondered as I took the bags from her, as I walked back to my house. Only a few weeks ago, I would have said that friends weren’t necessary, that they were nice but didn’t make that much difference in a life. Wow, had I ever been wrong. I watched Grace making her way back down the beach. Then I looked up at my house. With my husband. And my daughter. And all the things that were right with the world.

I thought of the past few weeks, the ups and downs, the things I had tried that I never even thought possible. Selling insurance. Being vegan. Having female friends. Moving in with my nemesis. We hadn’t just survived, Iris and I. We had thrived. And, maybe, we had even helped save my husband. I gazed at our house, feeling such pride and joy.

You could go home again. You most certainly could. And I was going to go right now.

Iris Secret

I had learned in our time since leaving the mommune that Grace’s perfect tables and amazing meals were even more perfect, even more amazing, now that the mommune was the White Ibis. We, as promised, all had at least one meal a week together as part of the continuance of our forced family fun, but usually two or three. Merit, Emma, and I were often back and forth between houses, I babysat the girls every chance I got, and I saw Alice every day. As I passed the platter of pesto tomatoes to Ben, I wondered if that got on Elliott’s nerves. I looked across the table at him as he laughed at something Jamie had said while I wasn’t paying attention. He took Alice’s hand and kissed her cheek. Nah. He seemed pretty happy to me.

Ben squeezed my knee under the table. The past three months had been pretty darn great. He leaned over and kissed me. “Ewwww!” Audrey squealed. “No kissing!”

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Dad chimed in.

I looked around the table. The whole gang was here. Julie, Oliver, Brenna, Jamie, Audrey, Alice, Elliott, Mom, Dad, Ben, Grace, Merit, and Emma. Somehow the warm family feeling of the mommune had carried over into this new existence where Dad was back, where Alice was getting married in three months, where eternally single Oliver had fallen head over heels for vivacious Julie and the three girls he never knew he wanted. I loved being back in my bed, in my room, in my house; even so, no place would ever feel quite as much like home as the mommune with these people around this table, laughing and joking and living lives that were richer because we shared them.

“Can you believe we are totally booked through the entire holiday season?” Julie asked.

“I can,” Oliver said, his beautiful British accent dripping. “Because you are absolutely brilliant, and this place is heaven on earth.”