Dan likes Mediterranean food.

I wonder what he ate for dinner tonight.

Bree called as she dried off.

“Whatcha up to?” her sister asked. Renee could hear pots and pans clattering in the background.

“I’m more curious to know what you’re up to.”

“I got carried away at the shop again,” Bree said. “I’m teaching that intro to knitting course, and I have three kids this session! Which is awesome, of course, but kids tend to get pretty distracted.”

Renee laughed, thinking of the many times Bree tried teaching Tansy to knit, and her daughter ended up with a book in her hands instead.

“Anyways, I’m just making a late dinner now. Spaghetti care of Paul Newman.”

“Gourmet.”

“Shut up. I was actually calling to see if you wanted to go with me to that pinot-and-paint fund-raiser at Chickadee Studios,” Bree said. “It’s tomorrow night. Are you free?”

Of course Renee was free. And yet she faltered, just as she always did.

“Maybe,” she said.

“Maybe?”

Renee shrugged, even though her sister couldn’t see her. Ever since Tansy had gone away to college, she’d felt herself become more of a hermit than ever. What interesting things did she possibly have to share with the group? The word of the day she’d received from Dr. Dan? A synopsis of the umpteenth novel she’d read? A review of the mushroom stroganoff recipe she’d recently made?

Her life was so pathetically boring.

“I’ll think about it, okay?” Renee said. “Promise.”

“Mmmm-hmmm.” Bree didn’t sound convinced. “I’ll drop you off some tickets. Try to do more than think. Do!”

After hanging up, Renee ran lavender-scented moisturizer over her arms and elbows, her legs and knees, before massaging a new night serum across her forehead and freckled cheeks. She brushed and flossed her teeth, swishing her mouth with minty mouthwash. She stood in front of the bedroom window for a few moments, always taking one last glance at quiet Seashell Lane below, as if she was head of some sort of neighborhood watch brigade. Then, finally, she slipped into her cotton pajamas, played Enya on her phone, and climbed into her sleigh bed.

This was good. She was lucky. Beyond fortunate. Her home was paid off thanks to a small inheritance from her parents. She had a job that connected her to children and families in the community. Her daughter earned a full ride to one of the most prestigious universities in the country. For the first time in her adult life, she had savings and no money stress. And tonight? Tonight, she’d been able to help a neighbor get through a stressful situation. Even better, she’d connected with Sadie Landry in a much deeper way than their previous babysitter-mother or cordial neighbor relationships had ever allowed. It had felt so satisfying, so freeing to talk to Sadie as openly as they had.

And yet, as Renee stared at the bedroom ceiling, she felt herself closing up as she always did, building the same safe walls around her inner self that she’d meticulously maintained for years now.