“One minute,” Andrea murmured to her friends when she returned to the kitchen island. “I win.”

“Nah,” Lauren said. “It was three minutes, not one.”

“What? It was like eight seconds,” Ronnie said. “I win.”

They burst into laughter. Before the party, they’d taken bets on exactly how long it would take for Raisin Beach mothers to start talking about their children in that specific, competitive way they did best. But these days, it didn’t irk them. It was almost endearing, actually. It wasn’t like the moms were going to change.

Jane Russell breezed into the kitchen. When she saw the women laughing, she smiled, too. “What’s funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” Andrea said. “Can I get you something to drink? Sparkling water?”

Jane pursed her lips. “Got anything a little stiffer?”

“Seriously,” another parent, Tricia, who also had a child in the Silver Swans fours, had appeared in the kitchen, too. “I had to endure screaming in the car on the way over here. I need something to take the edge off.”

And then, suddenly, more mothers were in the kitchen, comparing all the reasons they needed a drink. One mom’s toddler drew all over her brand-new leather couch with a Sharpie. One mom’s five-year-old twins had endured back-to-back ER visits for falling off the same piece of playground equipment. Someone’s kid shaved the family dog that morning. Someone’s kid was keeping a squirrel in her bedroom as a pet.

Ronnie, Andrea, and Lauren all exchanged a glance, both delighted and smug. It was obvious they were all thinking the same thing: these moms were always going to compete, whether it was their kids at their best . . . or their kids at their worst.

“We have wine,” Andrea said, the corners of her mouth stretching into a smile. “And beer. And liquor. We have anything, actually.”

She turned to get the women their drinks, and when she turned back, the group wanting alcohol had multiplied. And when everyone had been served, it was Jane who raised her glass. “These ladies deserve a toast,” she said.

“We do?” Lauren looked startled.

“You know why,” Jane said meaningfully.

Her voice had an edge. Piper Jovan was a cautionary tale. Her desperation, and all the measures she took to cover it up—maybe it could happen to any of them. And North was just heartbreaking.

Piper was up north somewhere, not incarcerated, per se, but getting the help she needed. But no one had spoken to her. No one was sure they’d ever see her again.