It was true that Becca had really known her. She’d seen, understood and accepted all Clare’s insecurities and been exasperated by many of them. But she’d done the talking in group situations, meaning Clare didn’t have to.

Becca had been a loyal friend from the first day when a group of girls had stolen Clare’s lunch and Becca had launched herself at them and then shared hers.

The memory made her smile. How could she have forgotten that?

It was the first time in a while she’d smiled when she thought of her friend.

The longing to see her again became a physical ache.

Clare tipped mushrooms into the pan and let them sizzle in the oil. “I can’t ever remember a time when Becca wasn’t in my life. Even when she was infuriating, she was still there. I don’t think I’ve quite adjusted. But she wasn’t perfect. Far from it. I don’t want you to think that. She was human, like the rest of us. But she’s gone, and we are learning to live with that. And the important thing is that Jack is happy. How did the two of you meet?”

She listened as Flora told her the story, first out of politeness and then from interest, easily able to imagine Jack looking lost as he tried to choose the perfect gift for his daughter. “Flowers. That’s thoughtful, but Jack always was thoughtful. I’m sure Izzy loved them.” Clare poked at the mushrooms, watching the edges darken and curl. “Do you have family in Manhattan?”

“I was raised by my aunt. My mother died when I was eight. I was just a little older than Molly.”

“I’m sorry.” Clare couldn’t imagine a world without her mother in it, and didn’t want to. Even now, after two decades of marriage and a child of her own, her mother still watched over her and fussed. And even though Clare protested that she was old enough to make her own decisions and her own mistakes, she secretly basked in the knowledge that someone cared so much about her well-being. “You were so young. Were your mother and your aunt close?”

Flora didn’t answer for a moment. “No. They had nothing in common. My aunt was a career woman. She didn’t want marriage or children. Then I came along. She considered it her duty to take me in.”

“Oh Flora—” Clare pictured Aiden or Molly, orphaned, going to live with someone who didn’t want them. It made her feel cold. “That must have been so hard.”