She trolled the Silver Swans Facebook page. The Piper news was the same—the story hadn’t been updated, though a woman named Hillary Tustin, who had a kid in the threes, said that she’d heard from a good source that Piper was still in a medicated coma. Lauren clicked on the link that listed every member of the group, searching for anyone named Jean. No one matched that name.

Next, she clicked over to the Silver Swans website portal, which, after she logged in, included a list of families in each grade and the email addresses they’d provided. No Jean there, either. The problem was, the list wasn’t complete—you didn’t have to provide your information if you didn’t want to. If Jean was so problematic, maybe she hadn’t.

Lauren climbed into her car. There were a few key places around Raisin Beach that moms frequented, and she wanted to look around. The park at the city center was one—when Lauren first moved to Raisin Beach, she took Matthew for walks down there, thinking it would be an easy place to make friends. But there was such an established squad of moms there already, and no one seemed interested in expanding their group. It also seemed like you had to sign up on some sort of reservation app if you wanted to score a decent park bench.

There was also Brytley, the yoga studio, where Lauren had gone a few times before having Matthew. This, too, was fraught with pregnant mothers aggressively comparing bodies, bellies, yoga abilities, birth plans, and where they were sending their little ones to preschool in many years’ time. A Brytley prenatal yoga class was, admittedly, where Lauren first heard about Silver Swans. She remembered packing up her mat and trudging out of class, having spoken to no one, with at least a plan: she might not be accepted in Raisin Beach, but her kid would be. And yet when she drove past the studio in her car, she didn’t stop. What was her plan, to barge into the studio and ask if they knew someone named Jean? That wasn’t exactly keeping a low profile.

Still, it felt good to be out of the house and alone with her thoughts. It reminded her of the times before she’d had Matthew—before she’d been with Graham, even—when she used to drive around a lot, as it helped her think clearly. Her thought process in general had been so much clearer back then, a crystal stream instead of a muddy pond. Her brain had felt so freed up; she’d been able to work on multiple projects at once, juggle relationships, remember to buy her brother a birthday present, mentally compose a grocery list.

The light turned green, and she jerked forward across the intersection. Only then did she realize where she was—across from Silver Swans.