Amber settled on the edge of the ottoman. “Nothing, thanks. I’ll only stay for a minute.” Amber had moved into the building more than a year ago, but she continued to behave as though she were an interloper in their group, even though Piper and Jen had welcomed her. “I stopped by to see if you’re still thinking about subletting,” she said apologetically.

“No!” Berni declared. “Piper, you’re not going anywhere, and Amber, you shouldn’t have brought this up.”

“I don’t want you to sublet,” Amber said hastily. “But you said you were going to have to, and I have friend who’s a visiting professor at DePaul. He’s looking for a rental.”

Leaving her cozy condo would be like stabbing herself in the heart. But unlike Berni, who wanted to bring her dead husband back to life, Piper was a realist. “Let me sleep on it. I’ll give you an answer tomorrow.”

There wasn’t much to sleep on. She could no longer afford to pay the mortgage on the condo she’d scrimped for years to purchase, and she wouldn’t impose on her friends, despite their offers to let her stay with them. By renting out her condo and moving into the basement of her awful cousin Diane’s two-flat in Skokie, she’d be able to avoid selling this place for a while, and she’d also preserve her friendships.

“The last thing we need is a strange man living here,” Berni said. “I won’t have it.”

Jen didn’t voice an objection. She understood that this was a last resort for Piper. “He’s a friend of Amber’s,” she said, “so he won’t be a stranger.”

“He was one of my professors at Eastman,” Amber said. “A very nice man.”

“I don’t care,” Berni said. “We don’t need a man here.”

Apparently, the gay newlyweds in the downstairs unit didn’t count.

“Having Piper subletting is better than forcing her to sell,” Jen said. “And you know she won’t move in with any of us. It’ll only be until she gets her business on its feet.” She uncrossed her long legs. “Unfortunately, I’ll be unemployed by then. It’s me we should all be worried about, not Piper. She’s tougher than I am. And younger.”

This pronouncement wasn’t as self-centered as it seemed. Jen was taking the heat off Piper. “I know broadcasting too well,” Jen said. “The younger and the blonder, the more the powers that be want to hire them. And Dumb Ass is a sucker for twenty-one-year-olds.” Jen had referred to the new station manager as Dumb Ass for so long that Piper had forgotten his real name.

Jen took a swig of vodka. “Studying meteorology is the new go-to major for every pretty girl who has even a passing interest in science. The colleges are turning them out in macrobursts.”