There was more in the Beaver County Times article Robin read online on the sofa in her downsized living room in a house half the size but full of twice the love, yet she stopped reading. This was Robin’s past, her ghost visiting her. No one felt his presence but her and the other girls he haunted. She had gotten the job at the Rape Crisis Center and fielded a call from one of Geoffrey Faust’s victims herself, encouraging her to go to the police. Twenty years ago women had been ashamed to report their assaults for the usual reasons: self-blame, fear of being stigmatized, dread of having to testify in open court, reluctance to ruin the lives of their assailants, and so many other self-defeating reasons. But a new age was dawning. More women were realizing that in a rape, the only victim was the woman, never the man. Helping these women felt good. Damn good. Robin had found her mission in life.

Grant swept into the living room carrying the mail, then dropped an envelope on Robin’s lap.

“Something came for you,” he said.

She immediately recognized the significance of the thick white baronial envelope. She slit it open with her finger, and pulled out a lovely card framed in wildflowers.

Liliana Maria Santoro and Luca Fontana joyfully invite you to celebrate their wedding . . .

Jumping up from the sofa, she darted across the living room to the kitchen where her phone was charging. Ripping out the charger, she speed-dialed Mackenzie.

“Let me guess,” Mackenzie said before Robin had a chance to speak. “You got Lily’s wedding invitation too?”

Robin huffed. “When did you get yours?”

“Yesterday. Lily told me she was going to invite you. Are you going to go?”

“To my best friend’s wedding? Of course. It’s been over a year since I’ve seen her and I still love the bitch.” She chuckled. “So yeah, I’ll be there.”

A wet cooing sound paused the conversation as the line rustled. “Sorry,” Mac said. “Raina’s trying to eat the phone.”

“And I bet you’re loving every slobbery minute of it, aren’t you?”

Mackenzie laughed. “What can I say? Fostering suits me. Raina’s even inspired me to write another children’s book. Because the first one sold so well, my publisher wants to release a whole series.”

“That’s great, Mac! You always were the creative one among us. I’m glad everything is working out with your writing—and with the baby. Getting any sleep?”

“Nah, but sleeping’s overrated. Will you be up for a visit this week?” Mackenzie asked. “Have ourselves a playdate?”

“Sounds great. Collette needs a distraction from the teething,” Robin grumbled. “I didn’t expect to be dealing with this in my forties, but at least now I have you to go through it with me.”