Peaches spent the next half hour trying to talk him down, or up. He had all these theories, but Peaches found it difficult to care. Somehow it didn’t matter to her one way or the other. Everyone had their foibles. What if Mandy had lied? Maybe she needed to lie. At least she was creative. Pretending to have MS was sort of badass when you thought about it.

She could hear the children leaving for the day and then the teachers. She didn’t want to talk to Stuart Little about his wife anymore. Clearly they needed boundaries. If he wasn’t there to sweep her off her feet and elope with her to Mexico, she wasn’t interested.

“I think you need to talk to her,” she said finally and stood up. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

She didn’t really have to go anywhere, but she did need some protein and some wine. As soon as Stuart left, she headed to the butcher.

“She is by far my favorite actress. By far,” the older butcher said now as he wrapped up a pile of pork sausages. His horn-rimmed glasses looked expensive. His hair was cut expensively too.

“The Newport steak is great,” the younger butcher told her. “How many people you cooking for?”

Peaches looked into the case at the Newport steak. It was thick and lean, except for a strip of fat on one side. Greg hated steak. He wasn’t a vegetarian, but he ate like one. Liam was almost a vegetarian out of laziness.

“Do you happen to know what’s playing at the movie theater?” she asked the young butcher.

He rolled his eyes. “A bunch of kid stuff. What a waste. Marvel and Disney. They used to show good films there—Tarantino, Woody Allen.”

“I don’t care what people say about the guy. Hannah and Her Sisters, best movie of all time,” one of the other butchers said as he wrapped up a pile of tenderized chicken breasts.

“Or today we have premade shish kebabs. Nice lamb meat. Fresh onion, peppers. All you need to do is grill them,” the young butcher suggested to Peaches. “Four minutes on each side, so they stay pink.”

Peaches didn’t have a grill. It was difficult to focus on the meat. The decision seemed enormous, exhausting. She was so hungry, and she really needed wine. And a vacation. Why was everyone always coming to her all the time, demanding things? She couldn’t hide in Monte anymore either. It had been impounded.

There had to be one decent movie playing. She could buy a mini wine bottle with a screw top, get a sandwich from Union Market, and take them to the movie theater. Even better, she could text Cobble Hill General and tell Dr. Conway she was stressed out and needed “a prescription.”