After the holidays, Silver Swans closed its doors for good; so many teachers left, and the school was so in debt because of all the money the account had to return. Now, in winter, the school sat empty. Leaves clogged its gutters. Its lawn hadn’t been mowed. The only people on the property, actually, were Kelsey and her documentary crew; they’d been able to pivot, pitch Hulu again, and start a project about Silver Swans and the spectacular way it went down in flames. Lauren spoke to Kelsey occasionally, and she hinted that she was this close to getting an interview with Piper, and if Lauren knew of any moms who wanted to go on the record, she knew where to find her.

But neither Lauren nor her friends wanted to go on the record. They were surprised that most of the other parents didn’t, either. It all felt a little too personal . . . and after this year, maybe not the message she wanted to project. Sure, a lot of people would want to see perfect-seeming Piper’s life collapse like a house of cards, but really, Piper wasn’t that different than anyone else. It was so easy to trick yourself into believing the thing you needed to believe to get you through. That you were successful. That your actions were warranted. That the child you lost was still here.

If Piper’s expectations were different—if the world was different—would this have happened to her? Or maybe she would have cut herself some slack.

“Cheers,” Jane said, holding up her glass. “To quite the trio of ladies.”

The three of them looked at one another and held in a laugh—funny that these mothers, who strove for the same ideals Piper did, were toasting them. But maybe, in a funny way, Lauren, Andrea, and Ronnie had it figured out more than most. They weren’t perfect. Their pasts weren’t perfect. Sometimes they slept late. Sometimes they let their kids eat junk food. There was too much screen time and not enough vegetables, and Esme slept in the bed with Ronnie and Lane most of the time.

But they were becoming okay with it. Their whole lives, they’d been hit over the head with directives on how to be perfect—do this, don’t do that, shame on you if you do. It had ruined Piper. It had almost ruined them. But it didn’t have to—for anyone. Maybe there was something to be said for just doing their best. Life was messy and tangled and both long and achingly short. Parenting was tedious and precious and no one, no one was doing it right. But at least they had one another now. And together, they’d never let one another feel badly.