None of those seemed like good choices or information she should share with her fifteen-year-old. As a single parent she thought she should try to present some semblance of sanity to her child, to give her some sense of stability. She wanted those same things for herself. Maybe pretending to be normal would help toward that end, even if the idea of dinner with other people was the last thing she really wanted.

Think of your daughter, Lauren. She deserves a normal life.

“I promise not to embarrass you,” she said at last.

From the corner of her eye she could see that Leah was neither convinced nor happy, and it made her feel guilty on top of all the other shitty emotions she was drowning in.

“I’m glad you’re making a friend in Wendy,” she said. “She seems like a nice girl.”

What she actually wanted to say was, Who the hell is Wendy Morgan, who are her parents, what’s their story? And on the heels of that, she hoped to God they served alcohol at this pizza parlor.

“She is,” Leah said.

“Will she be in your classes at school?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“She’s younger than me.”

“That’s too bad.”

Still looking at her lap, Leah barely lifted one slender shoulder to shrug. She was tall, like her father, and willowy, with legs that went on forever. The boys of Oak Knoll were going to follow her around like puppies—not that Leah would enjoy that. She was almost painfully shy—so unlike her older sister. By fifteen, Leslie had already mastered the art of tying boys around her little finger and dancing them around like puppets.

“Are you going to pout all through dinner?” Lauren asked. “Because that will be almost as pleasant as me being pissed off. Maybe we could do both and really make a good impression on people we’ve never met before.”

No bite from the sullen teenager.

If only I hadn’t lost my mind in the supermarket, Lauren thought. She would have purchased the poached salmon and the orzo salad, and she would have had a valid excuse to say no to dinner out. They could be on their way home right now, and she would be free to spend the evening fretting and obsessing.

She followed Anne Leone’s minivan into the parking lot of the same shopping center as the Pavilions store that had been the scene of her first crime of the day.

Great. If she was really lucky, the people who worked the afternoon shift at the supermarket moonlighted at the pizza place. She could only hope she had run into the ladies’ room so quickly they hadn’t gotten a good look at her earlier in the day.

And then she could cap off the evening by seeing Ballencoa eating a calzone across the room.