We get through it the best way we can, Anne had said. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks.

That was true from her own perspective, Lauren thought. She had long ago ceased to care what anyone thought of her, or of what she said or did. But she knew she routinely embarrassed Leah with her raw bluntness, and she routinely offended people she had to deal with. Not everyone would subscribe to Anne Leone’s philosophy.

Bump and Sissy Bristol had been the only people to really stick with Lauren through the never-ending “worst” of it (as if there was “better” of it). Bump had called earlier in the evening to check up on her and Leah.

“Hey, beautiful, how’s my second favorite lady in the world?”

“Hey, Bump, I’m okay.”

“I don’t like the way that sounded.”

“Some days are better than others,” she lied. There were no good days. There were just days to be gotten through.

“How’s my Leah doing?”

She was always amused by Bump’s proprietary claim to all females in his circle—like a lion with his pride of lionesses. That was kind of how she pictured him too: big, handsome, masculine, with a wild mane of steel gray hair and a roaring voice.

“She’s at a sleepover,” Lauren said. “She made a friend.”

“You let her out of the house?”

“Well supervised.”

“I’m still surprised. You must be doing better, sweetheart.”

“Don’t get carried away. I’m not exactly happy home alone.”

“You shouldn’t be alone, Lauren,” he said firmly. “Sissy is out of town, but I can come over. I can be there in an hour.”

“You don’t need to do that, Bump.”

“It’s not a problem. I should come over and check on the place anyway. You’ve probably got half a dozen things on the honey-do list by now.”

“Everything is fine. I’m fine.”

“You’re sure? I’m ready to get in the car.”

“No, really, don’t.”

“Well, I’m coming over there soon. I want to see my little Leah. I’ll take her someplace special. We’ll have a day, just her and I.”

Bump had been almost as despondent over Leslie’s disappearance as Lance and Lauren. He had sat in their family room and sobbed like a baby the day they found out Leslie’s bike and shoe had been found.

He had doted on Leah in the years since, which had been nice for her, especially after Lance had died. He had stepped in as a surrogate father.

“Her birthday is coming up,” he said, as if Lauren needed reminding. “We’ve got to do something special.”

“She’ll like that.”

They would all celebrate Leah’s birthday and pretend to be normal for a few hours.