“You know, well, you all know because it’s affected you, one way or another, how bad the economy has been. But particularly for us, particularly for a real estate salesperson. Houses are moving, but the prices are low, getting bank financing is harder than ever, and now plenty of people aren’t even trying to sell their houses. Well, you can pick up foreclosures, but so often that’s such a sad situation, the people express their fury at an unfair system and their own gullibility and bad luck by wrecking the houses. Or they just leave the house and with it some of their furniture. When you go into the house, you see the love that people had for it, the window seats that are covered with a child’s favorite fabric, a desk painted with the family’s handprints, printed curtains. Rose gardens gone to mold. And finding buyers is difficult.” Laurie sounds like a teacher when she’s anxious, the result of her mom, who taught high school. “Well”—she shrugs—“we need the money now. And”—she looks down—“you know I’ve cut back, partly because of Olivia, but truthfully because people aren’t going to the hairdressers as often. Fewer expensive highlights. Fewer cuts every six weeks.”

Vera, Jeannie, and I glance at one another as though scolded.

She notices our expressions and says, “It’s just the way it is, you know? Well, we’ve been thinking about this for a while … and Brian’s sister is in North Carolina. We wouldn’t have to go through winter again. Closer to my parents, since they’re in Florida. It’s one of the few places where the real estate market hasn’t been hit hard.” She counts the positives by pulling down her fingers. “Brian was able to connect with another broker. And his brother-in-law manufactures cabinets, so Brian can work there until things pick up. And I can get my license. And I guess”—Laurie swallows and shifts her weight—“well, this’ll be my last cookie club party.”

“What? You can’t leave us!” Rosie says.

“Ohmigod.” Vera’s mouth is turned down.

“Oh, no.” Charlene is dismayed.

“I’m so sorry. So sorry,” Taylor says.

“You can still come back. Lynda did,” Rosie says. “Or commute like Alice.”

“I know. I’ve thought of all that. But I think I’ll start a branch in Charlotte. Is that okay?” She looks at me.

“Of course.”

“So when are you moving?” Rosie asks.

“We’re going to take it in stages. After the holidays, Brian’ll start selling our house. If it doesn’t sell in three months, we’ll look to rent it out. But he’ll be in North Carolina starting his real estate business; he already has his license there. I’ll stay here, hoping things are resolved.” She crosses her index and middle fingers. “But regardless, I’ll move down there in June.”