Well, what did you expect? she chided herself. Why should he remember a few brief conversations in a hospital cafeteria? This isn’t like me, she thought, this feeling of unfinished business—words unspoken, deeds not yet done—with this near-stranger who has just lost his wife.

The feeling gradually faded in the turmoil of her own life. There was Karim, who would soon be starting his freshman year at Harvard. Although Jenna had persuaded him to live at home the first year, he would soon begin a life of his own, away from her. Then she would be alone.

And there was the loss of hope for Carolyn: with every passing week, the chances of her recovery grew slimmer, until finally there was no hope at all. Her parents, devout Catholics who could not bring themselves to request the removal of life-support systems, were moving Carolyn to a private nursing facility in Connecticut.

O

‘‘We can’t go on like this,” said Helen Schrieber, one of the Sanctuary’s newer counselors. “We’re running out of space. We’re doubling women and children up in rooms meant for one.”

“I know, I know,” Jenna said, “I’m working on it. And I hope to have some news soon.” In front of her was a copy of the proposal she’d sent to the Pierce Foundation, describing how the Sanctuary served the needs of women and children who had nowhere else to go. An excellent new space was about to come open in the neighborhood. The Sanctuary had taken a ninety-day option. Would the Pierce Foundation help?

She fully expected a call in response to her plea, but none came. Instead, she received a formal letter from someone describing himself as the foundation’s executive secretary requesting detailed information on the cost of acquiring and renovating the new space.

Jenna sent the documentation, the money came, and construction on the Patricia Bowman Annex began. That was all there was to it.

I could call him, Jenna thought. I could thank him personally. But it was obvious, wasn’t it, that he didn’t want that kind of contact? She let it go.

Yet, when Brad did call—a full five months later—she knew who it was the moment he said hello. She was so thrown off balance that she began to babble about the grant. “We’re all so very grateful. We’ll be opening the Bowman Annex in a matter of a few weeks. You’ll be the guest of honor, of course, and—”

“You’re entirely welcome,” he cut in. “And I’ll be at the inaugural ceremony. But what I’ve called about is to ask you if you’d like to have dinner with me. Friday evening—or at your convenience.”

“A date?” she blurted, wishing the moment she heard her own words that she could yank them back out of the phone.