“You’re making me feel better about Giles. My manager only cares that I show up. I think he’s afraid of me, if you want to know the truth.”

“I was so surprised to see you there. I didn’t even know you were back.”

Roberta sat up and threw another rock into the lake. The town had probably just stocked it with fish. Sherri could smell the dead ones—there was always a die-off of perch and bluegill early in the season. “Well, my roommate moved out and I lost my job at the mall, and I was like, why the fuck not move back to East Troy? Plus—” She hesitated.

“What?”

“This isn’t public yet, but my mom and dad are finally getting a divorce.” The word “divorce” in East Troy sounded harsh to Sherri’s ears, scandalous. It was a word people whispered.

“I’m sorry. Did your dad meet someone else?”

“No, it’s my mom. She finally had enough. She’s leaving him, and I’m so proud of her. She said she’s tired of pretending everything’s fine.”

Sherri grabbed Roberta’s hand and squeezed it. She thought of the empty bottles of whiskey on their countertops, of Mrs. Fletcher’s black eyes and bruises, and all the times Roberta had slept at her house because her dad had flown off the handle. She could hear her mother saying Mr. Fletcher’s name under her breath, and remembered the coldness in Muriel’s greeting when she saw him at church. “Look at Karl, trying to atone for his sins,” she’d say.

“I was always afraid they’d get divorced, but I feel relieved.”

“Everything’s changing,” Sherri said.

“It is. I’m back in East Troy, sure, but I don’t know, this place doesn’t feel like home anymore. It’s not the same here when you’re an adult. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I mean, look at you. You’ve got this fun job and you get to meet celebrities and go to Texas and I’m just … here. Sometimes it feels like this is the only place I belong, and other times I wonder what else is out there.”

Sherri felt just as scared and uncertain as she did. She paused, wondering if she could confide in her old friend. “It’s good you’re home. You’re here because your mom needs you. I don’t regret helping my mom. Not for a second.”

Some geese flew overhead in V formation, and a gentle wind picked up, roughing up the surface of the lake.

“Berta, are you mad I got the job?”

“Nah,” she said. “Honestly, I don’t think I even could do it.”

“So we’re still friends?”

Roberta nudged her with her shoulder. “You’re a fucking idiot, Sher. We’ll always be friends.”

CHAPTER NINE