“Ma’am?” the checker said in a bored voice. He had a long beard, Ronnie remembered, and little John Lennon sunglasses. “Ma’am, can you pull forward?”

But Ronnie couldn’t move. And then a man’s voice said, from behind her: “He’ll take your items from you. It’s okay. You don’t have to unload them yourself.”

What had Lane seen in Ronnie that day? A pretty woman, for sure. But he’d also come to her rescue . . . and pegged that she was raising Esme on her own. When she told him her story—well, most of her story—later, that she’d had to escape from abuse, how she and Esme were winging it here in Raisin Beach, Lane didn’t seem surprised.

The shower suddenly made a whining sound, and the water temperature changed from hot to lukewarm. Ronnie rinsed her hair quickly, and her mind drifted to the Welcome Breakfast. She still wasn’t sure if it had gone well or not.

She’d been worried about meeting other mothers in Raisin Beach. Mothers here were . . . different. Back in Cobalt, mothers were just moms, just doing their best to get by. They didn’t wear high heels or go to brunch. They never had time to work out—unless it was to a workout video in front of the TV while the baby napped, but Ronnie didn’t know any mothers who actually bothered. They certainly didn’t have Instagram pages showing off their beautifully arranged cheese plates or mommy-and-baby matching outfits.

In conversations she overheard at the playground, Raisin Beach mothers talked about things like “Yes spaces” and how their houses were no-screen-time zones, and the benefits of co-sleeping and how they’d die if their kids’ sheets weren’t made of fragrance-free, conflict-free organic cotton. Half the time, Ronnie couldn’t understand the words they were saying. They all felt so above her, and she wasn’t sure if she’d have anything to contribute to the conversation, ever. And though her hipster boyfriend was a plus—the kindergarten teacher, at Silver Swans!—she still worried that she’d stand out among the Silver Swans parents. Making friends wasn’t at the top of her priority list—staying safe was, staying hidden—but it would be a nice bonus.

But a few mothers were nice at the breakfast. Ronnie liked how Lauren cut through the bullshit, and Andrea was hilarious. She—Andrea would want people to refer to her as she, right?—seemed lovely. Ronnie had already texted Andrea, in fact—they’d all exchanged numbers before leaving—to thank her for the Baileys hit and to compare notes with their kids’ first days.