So, she was jealous of her own husband’s wristwatch, and yet here was a man who would tell her of his dreams! Of his nightmares! A man whose eyes did not hide from her understanding.

It was almost too much.

She would never tell JJ, but when he had guessed yesterday that Dolly wanted the Mickelson house for her own, it was more than Byron had ever guessed about her in his life. Which was disconcerting, to say the least.

Yet, it was wonderful to feel necessary. Needed, by someone. She could see JJ’s need clearly in his eyes. And, God forgive her, lapping up JJ’s need for her was so satisfying. It was temporary, she knew, but, for the time being, it was so much easier than struggling to bridge that gap between her and Byron. Because whether or not she wanted Byron to need her, she realized now that she couldn’t make him.

And so she set out again.

She was wearing her denim pedal pushers today with a sleeveless red plaid blouse and her red ballet slippers. Not exactly approved housewife-wear, but she wasn’t feeling much like an approved housewife, and she wanted to be comfortable, for once, while she worked.

The sun had emerged again, and all of Pine Rapids was in bloom, the smells of backyard gardens and burgeoning lawns mixing with the petunias and cedar bushes of the more formal front gardens. Approaching the Mickelson house down First Street, Dolly thought the house was beginning to look prouder, despite its still missing shingles, the corner of the porch that was caving in, the splotches of peeling paint, the irises choking themselves in the side garden.

But when JJ answered the door, she could see in his eyes that he had been drinking again.

“My little housekeeper!” he said. “Thought I might’ve scared you off yesterday. I like the pants.”

“Thank you,” she said, brushing her way past him and into the kitchen, trying to decide what to do. She was tired, suddenly, and felt a rush of longing for the peaceful little bungalow, for Byron’s constancy. At least with Byron everything always seemed fine. And, as much as she enjoyed JJ’s attention, in some ways it was crushing to be so near such desperation.

She heard the door shut behind her, heard JJ’s uneven footsteps following her.

“So, what’s on the agenda today, Dolly?” he said. She turned to face him. He was grinning, but she detected the glimmer of anguish lurking in his eyes.

She did not think she could, in good conscience, leave him to his own devices. And if he needed her as much as his look had suggested, perhaps she had some leverage. “Well, I was planning to work on the pantry,” she said. Then she sniffed. “But I just don’t know.”

His grin faded. “What’s wrong?”