“Yes, obviously don’t do that. But moreover…” On the landing halfway up, where the single staircase split into two, he caught up to her and managed to grab hold of her wrist. Clare stopped and faced him. “I need you to make me a promise.”

“What?” she snapped.

“No social media. Not today, not tomorrow…not for the whole week, in fact.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“Can you honestly tell me you’re capable of not biting right now?”

“Of course not.”

“Exactly my point, and you haven’t even read the review yourself yet. When that happens, your head is going to explode right off your shoulders. In that frame of mind, well, I don’t like to even imagine the flame war you’re likely to start.” He tried smiling at her.

Clare pursed her lips and turned her head, softening…barely.

Simon took a step closer, then another, daring to pull his seething wife to him. He wrapped his arms around her. Charlie, feeling left out, pawed at their legs. Simon lowered his lips to her ear, “Besides, you’re setting a bad example for Charlie.”

They both looked down at the fluffy Maltese, wagging his tail, tongue hanging from his mouth. Clare’s shoulders sank a few inches.

“Oh, you damn dog,” she whispered, and bent down to pick up his squirming, happy body. “How’s a woman supposed to stay enraged at her mortal enemy with you and that stupid cute face always ruining the moment?” She nuzzled the dog’s ear and took a deep breath. “Fine,” she said to Simon. “I promise, no social media for the day.”

“For the week.”

Clare scowled at him, but Charlie licked her face. “This dog, he’s your dirtiest trick yet.”

“A week?” He kissed her other cheek, then her lips.

“Fine, a week,” she said, pulling away. “But if I’m even still a little mad by next Sunday,” Clare declared and started back up the stairs with Charlie in her arms, “I’m going to find a way to publicly annihilate that puffed-up bitch. But don’t worry, it’ll be subtle.”

So, that was settled. The plan was a subtle, public annihilation—they were maybe going to need two weeks.

Chapter 4

Eileen

The last-minute flight from Denver to San Francisco had cost a fortune. Eileen put it on one of their almost maxed-out credit cards and hoped the charges would clear. For the last six months, the realization that she was almost assuredly going to have to go back to spending her days doing work she hated had sunk in deeper with the arrival of every ballooning credit card statement.

As usual, she pushed the thoughts aside. She didn’t have the strength to mourn her sister and worry about money at the same time.