So much for the notion that with sleep comes clarity. Not only had I woken up exactly as confused about why we were fighting as when I went to sleep, but now my neck hurt. And I’d spent most of the night dreaming about giant hamsters clomping down the stairs.

In the end, I stayed with my single order. Maybe sometimes it’s a good idea to give the other person a little space. Let him come to you. Maybe once we got through all the construction and our heads cleared, we’d be fine.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything else?” Janey said as she handed me the takeout bag.

“Why?” I said. “Do you think I should get something else?”

She laughed. “Not unless you want it, honey. Take it from me, never do anything just because the other person wants you to. Life’s too short to spend it chasing other people’s fancies.”

“You’re absolutely right,” I said. “Thank you for that.”

She tucked an extra napkin into my bag. “And make sure you tell that daddy of yours that Janey had a terrific time with him the other night and that I’ll drop off that casserole I promised him soon.”

“Will do,” I said, like I’d said dozens of times before to strange women.

“That ad of his about the mattress just cracked me right up. Billy Boy Hurlihy is one hot ticket.”

“Mmm,” I said. “He’s something all right.” Cars were pulling into the parking lot. In a minute Janey would be so busy she’d forget all about me.

“When push comes to shove,” she said, “at the end of the day what you remember is how much you laughed with someone.”

I considered asking to borrow her pen so I could write that down.

I took my time eating breakfast in my car in the Morning Glories parking lot. Then I took my time driving to school. Even with all that taking my time, mine was the only car in the Bayberry parking lot when I pulled in. I emptied my takeout bag in one of the outdoor trash barrels and wandered around the school grounds, filling it back up again with the last of the bright gold and orange and red autumn leaves.

“Good morning,” Polly said when she joined me in the classroom. She dropped her teacher bag to the floor, began shrugging off her coat.

“Morning,” I said. “Hey, I just have to ask. Is anybody bothering you?”

Polly froze. Her cheeks turned pink. Her coat hung from her arms like wings.

“What do mean?” she said finally.

“You know,” I said. “My father? My brother Johnny? Any other testosterone-laden relatives I might have forgotten about?”

She slipped all the way out of her coat, brushed one hand in front of her face. “Of course not. Your dad and brother are both fantastic. And really sweet to me.”