The hard part? Arthur. She’d go see him next. She’d have her party, only it would be as much a going-away party as a celebration of Rhonda and Frank’s wedding. She knew this, but Arthur did not. He might be the perfect person for her, but that was the problem. She was torn between missing him, and missing out on life. Moments of clarity were rare, but that late morning it hit her: she couldn’t stay in East Troy any longer, and she couldn’t go back to the resort. She also couldn’t let Arthur hold her back. She’d have to hurt him, have to find a way to tell him goodbye. Maybe not for forever, but for now. Now was all she could think about.

She was going to drive her new car to California, that’s what she was going to do.

Before she stepped out of the car, she said, “I like your plan, Jerry. Let’s do it.”

Raylee, walking home along Highway 15, carried a bag full of corn on the cob she’d bought at the produce stand. She spied Sherri the minute she stepped out of Jerry’s car. “Sher!” The girl ran over to where Sherri stood, an inch or two taller than she’d been at the beginning of summer. “Why you been gone so long?”

“Hey twerp.” Sherri had always thought of Raylee as a pest, but that morning she was happy to see her, grateful for the company. She wanted someone to share the excitement of her first major purchase. “I’m picking up my new car. Want to be the very first passenger?”

“Your own car? Yeah, sure!”

Even on a few hours’ sleep, the thought of the car made Sherri giddy. It had seemed so far off for so long, but Rick, her salesperson, was someone she didn’t know from town. He clearly didn’t share her thrill. He gave her a Styrofoam cup filled with burned coffee to drink while she filled out paperwork. She wasn’t his priority now that he’d made the sale. “This your kid?” he asked, looking at Raylee, who sat next to her with all that corn in her lap, the delicate hair at the top of the stalks looking unruly and earthen in the lobby that smelled like oil and vinyl.

“God no!” Sherri said. It never occurred to Sherri that someone would think she could be Raylee’s, or anyone’s, mother.

“We’re sisters,” Raylee said. She smiled smugly.