She twisted the individual hot and cold faucets and ran a hand under the combined flow. Just a smidge more hot, and the water was perfect. Dumping in a scoop of orange and bergamot bath salts, she settled into the tub and rolled stiff shoulders. How did Jonas even call? She pictured him plucking a cell phone from beneath his hat and giggled. Well, she’d just have to ask when she saw him Thursday. For a few weeks anyway, Jonas would pass a lot of time at her house, and she vowed to treat him like a normal person. If she had a question, by golly she’d ask.

On Wednesday, she skipped the market, thus avoiding another confrontation with Nora, and worked all day in the volunteer office, arranging linens and furniture rentals. That evening, dressed in her lightest cotton joggers and a threadbare college tee, she watched the credits scroll on the final episode of Mysteries of the Big Apple. Just as she turned off the TV, her cell rang. Richard’s name popped up on the caller ID, and she hesitated. Would talking to him be weird after the whole Benton’s fiasco? With her finger hovering over the decline button, she heard Jenn’s voice shouting in her head. Your boyfriend’s calling from San Francisco, Tess, take the darned call. She took the darned call.

“Darling, I’m dashing for drinks, but I had to check in. This conference is incredible—world-class. I’m exhausted, but Tyler and I are meeting the top researchers in the field.”

Whatever that field was exactly. Breathless and ebullient, he described late-night networking over sushi and meet-ups with old friends from school. “This city is even more beautiful than I imagined. And the coffee? Out here, coffee is its own food group. You should have come.”

If she knew the conference was happening, she might have. She liked coffee, too.

“I miss you, darling. I’ll call again soon.”

The line went dead. Abandoning her phone, she slipped into the backyard. Barefoot, she padded through dewy grass and soft pine needles until she rested a shoulder against the tree that would soon transform into a gazebo. Whispering, the wind rushed to distant meadows. “Tomorrow…tomorrow…tomorrow…” She rolled, and the bark of that old tree scraped her back so familiarly. The breeze pulsed until gooseflesh prickled her skin.