Their cars were outside on the patchy lawn, but she knew already who was inside: Andee and Graeme, Leanne and Tom, Wilkie and Abby, Richie, Dan, and Henry. Her heart tightened with dread as she thought of Henry. She’d almost asked Jasmine not to invite him, but it would have hurt him terribly if she had, and it was time for him to see what she was like now. She wouldn’t blame him if he began making excuses not to see her again after today. It would hurt, of course, devastate her probably, but she was expecting it and as with everything else, she would find a way to deal with it.

By the time they stepped out of the car into the fragrant early summer air the front door had opened and Jasmine was coming to greet them. As they embraced Marcy glanced worriedly toward the house, wondering who was watching.

Jasmine said, “Everyone’s on the deck at the back. It’s such a lovely day we thought it would be nice to sit outside, and there’s a new canopy to shade us from the sun.”

Avoid direct sunlight, just one of the many instructions she’d been given to help ease her into the changed life she was about to begin. Two new beginnings in nearly as many years, the first so much easier than this.

She allowed Claudia to take her arm and they followed Jasmine in through the front door. To Marcy’s relief she wasn’t assailed by a terrifying flashback of trying to beat out the flames, or stilled by a horror of going any farther. She felt instead as though she was seeing an old friend for the first time in a while, and while it had changed in some ways, it was the same in others. Another large table had been found, the oak beams across the ceiling had been replaced and limed, and the pale flagstone floor was maybe a shade lighter, it was hard to tell. There were new mismatched chairs, although these hadn’t yet been painted an assortment of colors the way the others had, and the walls were yellow, not purple. The kitchen units were identical to those that had been lost, made and fitted by the same craftsmen, Claudia had told her. The patchwork sofas were no more, but the new ones were just as inviting with their lively blue stripes, mint-green dots, and plumped-up cushions. There were no drapes yet, but Claudia had told her that she was no longer sure there should be.

It was the drapes that Marcy had tried to save. If she hadn’t. . . .

Hearing voices outside, she glanced at the open French doors, noting that they too were the same as their predecessors, and as someone laughed her insides turned inside out.

“You don’t have to do this,” Claudia whispered. “It’s probably too soon . . .”