Was that a trick? Because Emily had always been under the impression that it did matter. Not only did he like her to go with him, he liked her to look good. At first she’d enjoyed the games. Looked forward to them. Liked going as Frank’s girlfriend, one of the gang but tucked securely under his wing. Now it felt as if it took too long to drive down there, and then the game went on endlessly with what seemed like an entirely different roster of players each season. Plus his friends drank too much and they’d get handsy. Some of them.

She hesitated for a moment. “Actually, it’s not my favorite thing.”

“No big deal. I officially absolve you from having to attend this and all future games. There!” Frank grinned. “All you had to do was say so.”

“If I change my mind—”

“I won’t hold my breath.”

“Tomorrow I really do have to work.”

“I know.” Frank sniffed his armpit. “And I really do need a shower.” He picked up his briefcase and left the room. Minutes later, Emily heard the pipes thunk as the shower turned on.

She reran her closet-sorting video, made a few tweaks, and shut down her computer. Before she changed for bed, she dragged the bags of discarded clothing into the upstairs hall, went back, and shifted the neatly folded piles of clothing from the bed to the floor. The empty closet needed to be vacuumed.

She stretched her aching back and shoulders and envisioned the new rods and shelves and hanging drawers she’d bought. She hoped installing them would turn out to be as easy as the company’s YouTube video promised.

“What are you doing still up?” Frank asked as he came into the bedroom. His hair was wet and he was wearing his bathrobe. It was late. Nearly midnight.

“Second wind,” Emily said.

He looked into her empty closet, then back at her, and gave his head a little shake. He’d encouraged her new venture, but she could tell from his expression that, for him at least, nothing about it sparked joy.

6

SUNDAY

FRANK LEFT THE next morning wearing his Pawtucket Red Sox cap and Mookie Betts jersey, and carrying a cooler loaded with six-packs of Sam Adams. He couldn’t take the beer into the park, but he and his buddies would be well lubricated by the time they left the parking lot. He really did seem fine with Emily not joining them.

Emily spent the better part of the morning preparing her new closet—taking down the old rods, unpacking new coated-wire shelves, rods, and assorted organizers, and marking spots on the wall where she needed to drill holes for drywall anchors. It was early afternoon by the time she was ready to head over to Inner Peace Storage.