A lot of years were suddenly between them, conversations and moments and opportunities she’d walked away from. At least that was what she was thinking about; she no longer knew him well enough to read his expressions. Even though they worked together every day, they were always surrounded by people and focused on work. On the weekends, when she went to his house, he was Katie’s husband, and Tully kept her distance.

He didn’t move, didn’t smile.

Tully smiled and backed away, hoping her smile looked real. “Come on, Marah, let’s go play mother/daughter. I have Lindsay Lohan in the green room. You can ask her how she got started.”

On a bright Wednesday in the first full week of September, Kate stood on the sidewalk outside of Ordway Elementary School. The parking lot, which only moments before had been clogged with buses pulling up to the curb and cars—mostly SUVs and minivans—inching through the carpool lane, was now empty and quiet. The bell had rung and fallen silent; the principal had gone back inside the squat, low-roofed brick building to start his day. Directly overhead, two flags flapped in the early autumn breeze.

“Are you still crying?” Tully tried to sound reassuring, but her voice was too honest for that. There was the merest hint of laughter behind the words.

“Bite me, and I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

“Come on, I’m taking you home.”

“But . . .” Kate glanced at the window at the far end of the school. “One of them might need me.”

“They’re going into kindergarten, not open-heart surgery, and you’ve got things to do.”

Kate sighed, wiping her eyes. “I know it’s stupid.”

Tully squeezed her hand. “It’s not stupid. I remember my first day of school. I was so jealous of the kids who had moms that cried.”

“I really appreciate you being here for me today. I know how hard it is for you to leave the studio.”

“My producer gave me the day off,” she said with a smile. “I think he has the hots for my best friend.”

Together, they walked down the tree-lined sidewalk to their parking spot. Kate climbed into the driver’s seat of her new blue SUV and started up the engine.

Tully immediately leaned forward in her own seat and popped a CD into the stereo. Rick Springfield’s voice blared through the speakers, singing “Jessie’s Girl.”

Kate laughed. By the time they’d driven out of the school lot, stopped at the coffee stand drive-through for their lattes, and arrived back home, she definitely felt better.

In her messy, toy-strewn living room, she collapsed into Johnny’s favorite overstuffed chair and put her feet up on the ottoman. “What now, fearless leader? Are we going shopping?”

“In the ridiculous three hours we have, not likely. You should have put them in the all-day program.”