She pointed to her daughter, who was holding a clipboard and conferring with a lighting technician. Tall and New York City thin, she looked terribly professional in tailored black slacks, a gray cashmere sweater topped with a chunky necklace, and leopard-print ballerina flats.

“The lighting is always beautiful on the Norah show,” said Rachel. “I don’t know how they do it, but the people in Norah’s audience always look terrific.”

“Norah always looks amazing,” said Lucy. “She’s no spring chicken, that’s for sure.”

“I bet she’s had plastic surgery,” snorted Pam. “It’s easy to look good when you can afford face-lifts and facials and professional makeup.”

“I think it’s the hair,” said Sue. “When your hair looks good, you look younger. Frizz makes you look older.”

“Really?” asked Lucy, who was suddenly painfully aware that she hadn’t bothered to style her hair that morning but had given it only a good brushing.

Sue nodded. “Lucy, you should blow-dry every morning.”

Lucy was about to protest that, what with breakfast and getting the girls and Bill out the door, she didn’t have much time for herself, but she was distracted when Sidra came over, kissed her mother, and asked if they were all comfortable.

“Front row seats. We feel very special,” said Pam. “I suspect you had something to do with it?”

“Nothing’s too good for Mom’s friends,” said Sidra. “Geoff and I really appreciate everything you did for us—all the cards and flowers and food you sent.”

Sidra’s husband, Geoff, had needed a kidney transplant at Christmas, and the surgery was made possible through a chain of donors and recipients that included the Cunningham family in Tinker’s Cove.

“How is Geoff doing?” asked Lucy. “He’s been through a lot.”

“It’s amazing. He’s doing great.”

“It must be quite an adjustment, psychologically, I mean,” speculated Rachel, “and not just for Geoff. You both had to face the possibility that his life would be cut short at a young age. . . .”

Before she could continue in this morbid vein, the music started, a lighted sign blinked on, signaling, APPLAUSE, and there was Norah herself, in the flesh. Sidra beat a hasty retreat, while the audience clapped enthusiastically. Norah was a local hero, and there was no need for the sign. They were welcoming her home.

“Thank you,” said Norah. “Thank you. Thank you.” The queen of daytime TV was gorgeous in a shocking pink dress and matching lipstick, her hair a perfectly smooth helmet, her skin aglow, and her teeth dazzling white. She waited while the clapping subsided, then began introducing the theme of her show: women who make a difference. “I’m happy to tell you that right here in Tinker’s Cove you have an amazing group of women who have worked together for more than twenty years to make a difference for local children.”