“That’s a big if,” Melanie said. “Don’t forget, they don’t have much evidence on her. I have hopes that I could sway a jury.”

“But if not?”

“If not, it’s up to a five-year sentence,” Melanie said.

It felt like the earth shifted beneath her. Claire took a seat on a nearby bench. “Five years.”

“Don’t fret, not yet,” Melanie said. “I need to go back in, but maybe you can visit later today?”

Claire nodded. “Thanks, Mel.”

She smiled, squeezing Claire’s shoulder before returning inside.

Margie waited a moment before speaking again. “How are you doing?”

Claire shook her head. “This is all my fault.”

“It is not your fault!” Margie promptly said. “I thought I told you no pity parties today.”

“But it is my fault, Margie. What was I thinking? That I could handle this all on my own? I’m a failure. An utter failure.”

Margie crossed her arms. “You don’t really believe all of that, do you?”

Claire bowed her head for a moment, and the dizziness hit her again. “Yes, I do. It’s just – it’s even worse than I could’ve imagined.”

“Why are you beating yourself up like this?”

“Because, Margie.” Claire looked up at her. “The one thing that I have been good at in my life is being a mom. I never had a great career, I never dressed well or had interesting things to say at parties. I can’t garden. I’m a terrible baker –”

“That’s not true,” Margie countered. “You make excellent cookies. And lemon bars.”

Claire smiled. “It’s just that after the girls got through school and started moving on with their lives, I felt so…empty. I felt like I’d lost my purpose. They didn’t need me anymore.”

“Of course they need you. They’ll always need you.”

“Yes, but it’s different.” Claire shifted. This bench was freezing. “I spent so much time and energy raising them to be strong and independent women. Now that they are strong and independent women, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Margie laughed and took a seat next to her. “Now you have to learn how to be a mom to strong, independent women. That’s a change for you, too.”

“I just don’t feel like…” Claire’s voice trailed off. She wasn’t sure how to put it into words. She’d had this odd feeling for years now.

It crept in on her when she was alone, especially when she was people-watching. It was like she didn’t fit, she didn’t belong. She thought moving would change that, but it only made her feel worse.

“Like what?” asked Margie, grabbing her hand.