Sadie slid onto a kitchen barstool and sipped her mocktail while Renee got to work, first combining the flour and salt and then cutting in the cold butter.

“Do you have a pastry blender?” Renee asked.

“Probably.” Sadie gestured toward a deep drawer to the left of the kitchen sink. “Ethan’s mother went through our entire wedding registry and then provided me with a list of essential items I simply must have forgotten.”

Her lips curled in a mischievous grin. “Sounds like your mother-in-law has a strong personality?”

“Annette means well,” Sadie ventured cautiously. “She’ll actually be flying in tomorrow from Cincinnati for Lincoln’s party.”

“Big trip for a second birthday bash.” Renee blended the butter into the flour mixture before adding a splash of ice water.

“Ethan’s her youngest, and between you and me and the Wild Kratts? He’s her favorite child.” She rolled her eyes and Renee laughed. “I think that’s part of why I have a panic attack whenever she comes. I stress that I’m not good enough for her darling.”

“I highly doubt that.” Renee dusted the countertop with flour before deftly rolling out the dough. “And not to brag, but these pies are going to knock her Cincinnati socks off. And you better take every ounce of credit for them.”

After she’d flattened the dough to a perfect thickness and cut it into discs, Renee wrapped each piece with plastic and set them in the refrigerator.

“The dough needs to chill for an hour. I can come back later,” she said awkwardly, forgetting this waiting period of the pie-making process. “Or I can take it to my house and finish the crusts there, of course.”

“I hope you’re kidding.” Sadie wrinkled her nose. “Because one of us should enjoy that wine. Please pour a glass and hang out. It’s so nice to catch up.”

Renee agreed—it would be nice to truly catch up. The last time she’d talked to Sadie, really talked to her, had been shortly after Sadie’s parents’ big going-away party, and Sadie had still been in college then. Once Sadie’s parents had moved to D.C., they’d lost touch until she and Ethan bought the cottage. They’d lived beside one another for two years now, and yet, all they’d exchanged were neighborly pleasantries, Christmas cookies, and mixed-up mail.

As she set the blueberry-and-sugar mixture to a simmer on the stovetop, Renee felt the wine’s warm, happy buzz—or maybe it was simply the thrill of connecting with someone other than herself. When was the last time she’d shared such an open, honest conversation with someone? With her friends around town, she tended to keep things breezy and casual, only sharing the attractive parts of her life: Tansy’s impressive scholarship or funny stories from work.

Now as Renee swept up crumbs and got started on the blueberry muffins, she got up to speed on Sadie’s parents’ life, how her father had been hired as a financial manager for the Department of Treasury, and they’d recently moved into their dream home: a Georgetown brownstone.