Phil wasn’t interested in her work the same way she wasn’t interested in his job as a stockbroker, in the columns of straight numbers and ragged heartbeat lines of the stock market. But at least she listened. The island project she was working on through her teaching job at the Savannah College of Arts and Design (or SCAD) was an opportunity for her to make a difference in architectural preservation, and she felt Phil thought of it as one more little hobby—no different from the scrapbooks she constructed for the kids.

She rubbed her forehead; she wouldn’t let anything ruin the day they’d meet their son’s first real love.

Phil found the sports announcer’s voice rattling off the football stats and predictions of the day on the AM dial. He circled the coliseum until they spotted Amy’s best friend Carol Anne waving her arms and pointing to the parking spot she’d saved for them. After two hours in the car, Amy was thrilled to jump out the passenger side and hug Carol Anne.

“We’re finally here.” Amy stretched and inhaled the fresh air.

“I had to fight at least thirty red-faced SUV drivers to keep your parking spot. You owe me big.”

Amy laughed and began to unload the packed coolers of food, grateful as her nausea shifted to a dull headache. She scanned the tailgating throng for Jack.

“Who’re you looking for?” Carol Anne craned her neck above Amy’s head.

“Jack. He has some new girlfriend he wants us to meet . . . and her parents.”

“Ooh. Sounds serious.”

Amy looked at the woman who’d been her best friend since first grade; her hair was still the color of fresh honey, her brown eyes still playful and alert-—taking everything in. Today she wore a pair of jeans that Amy’s seventeen-year-old daughter could fit into and an orange T-shirt with SAXTON UNIVERSITY stamped across the top in block letters.

“God, Carol Anne, you look like one of the students. Go away.” Amy made a shooing gesture with her hand, laughed.

“And you don’t?”

“No, I definitely do not.”

Amy stood up on her toes, attempted to look above the crowd for Jack. She spotted him walking through the maze of cars, grills and tangled knots of alumni bartering for tickets to the ultimate rival football game. His arm stretched behind him as he pulled a dark-haired girl through the throng. Amy didn’t call out; she didn’t want to embarrass him. She waved her arms back and forth so he could spot them.

She turned to Phil, who was grabbing blankets and chairs from the backseat. “Here comes Jack.”

“Great.” Phil’s smile widened; he placed a folding chair on the grass, and walked over to stand next to her.

Carol Anne grabbed Amy’s wrist. “I’ll let you say hello to your son. . . . Be right back.”