“It’s not. I speak before I think sometimes.”

Robin took a swallow of her coffee. Nicola’s hands were folded on the table, and Robin placed one of her hands over them, squeezed. “I’m glad you’re here with us now,” she said.

THE NAP SEEMED to have done Renee a world of good. Robin and Nicola spent more than an hour with her, reminiscing over old times, the two of them embarrassing Robin with childhood stories, Nicola’s maniacal laugh erupting sporadically. From time to time, Renee would get quiet or teary and Nicola and Robin would simply sit with her, holding her hands, waiting for the moment to pass. Nicola cracked terrible jokes with the nurses and showed pictures of her three dogs to Robin and Renee, Renee in particular cooing over them—a yellow lab, an Australian shepherd, and a standard poodle. Renee who’d spent her entire adult life with an allergic husband, longing for a dog. She seemed to love the lab especially.

When Dr. Wu came in to run some tests on Renee, Robin and Nicola kissed her good-bye and promised to come back in a few hours—at which point, she’d hopefully be well enough to be released. Walking down to the parking lot together, Nicola and Robin made small talk, complaining about the heat and the food in the cafeteria, and sharing restaurant recommendations in the area. Once they reached Robin’s car, they hugged and Robin’s mind returned again to Quentin Garrison, what Nicola had said about him earlier. “Do you think he might have done it?” Robin said, her hand on the door.

“Let’s put it this way,” she said. “I have no idea who else would have done it.”

It wasn’t until Robin was driving away that she realized she’d never said Quentin Garrison’s name or what she thought he’d done, but she hadn’t needed to. Nicola had known.

DRIVING HOME, ROBIN listened to the news on NPR, all those dumb grief clichés running through her head—doors closing and windows opening, silver linings and brand-new days. She’d never get over the loss of her father. It was a pin stuck in her forever, one that hurt only marginally less if she didn’t look at it directly. But her mother was going to be okay, and that was her window opening, her silver lining. Renee was going to live, and she had a dear old friend that Robin had never known about to help her pull through.

Robin was starting up her car and thinking about getting a yellow lab for Mom when her phone rang. She answered it, Eric’s voice coming through the Bluetooth. “Guess what?” Robin said. “I spent the whole morning with Nikki the babysitter. Did you know she’s a cop now? How bizarre is that?”