Bill was a much-sought-after restoration carpenter who fixed up vacation homes for old-time Yankee families from Boston and Wall Street hotshots. He was already dressed for the day in a plaid flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots. His still sported a healthy head of hair and a full beard, but the brown was now mixed with gray. “Elizabeth again?” he asked, filling a mug with coffee and handing it to her.

Lucy cradled the mug in both hands and took the first, life-giving sip. “Yes. She hates everything in Paris—the people, her roommate, her job.”

The toaster popped, and Bill buttered a couple of pieces of toast, arranged them on a plate, and added the eggs and bacon he’d been frying. He sat down at the table and took a bite of bacon. “An improvement,” he said philosophically. “Yesterday it was the entire country, all forty million Frenchmen, or however many there are now.”

Lucy joined him at the table. “You are an optimist,” she said with a sigh. “I’m disappointed in Elizabeth. I really am. This is a wonderful opportunity, and I don’t think she’s taking advantage of it.” She paused, taking another sip of coffee. “You know, I took French in high school. I bet I could get along just fine in Paris.”

That thought remained in Lucy’s mind as she got herself ready for the day and saw her two younger daughters, who were still living at home, off to school. Zoe usually caught a ride with her friend Renée, shunning the school bus now that she was a junior at Tinker’s Cove High School. Sara drove herself to nearby Winchester College in an aged, secondhand Civic. Lucy’s oldest child and only son, Toby, lived on nearby Prudence Path with his wife, Molly, and their just-turned-four-year-old son, Patrick.

Since it was Thursday Lucy didn’t have to get to work early; the deadline for the Pennysaver newspaper, where she was a part-time reporter and feature writer, was noon Wednesday, and the paper came out on Thursday, giving the staff of three a brief reprieve before they started work on the next week’s edition. For years now she’d met three longtime friends for breakfast on Thursday mornings at Jake’s Donut Shack; they all considered this weekly get-together a top priority.

This morning she was eager to share her anxiety about Elizabeth with the group and get their input, as they were all mothers and had plenty of experience guiding their children through young adulthood. When Lucy arrived, she found Rachel Goodman and Pam Stillings already seated at their usual table. She gave a wave to Norine, the waitress, and joined them.

“Another phone call,” she began as Norine set a mug of coffee in front of her. “At six thirty this morning. Elizabeth is driving me crazy.”