Audrina settled upon brownies. Everyone loved brownies. And she was known for them. Royal weddings and street parties. Charity bake sales. The birth of a baby. All kinds of celebrations. Although there had been too few of those lately, the murders driving their small community into their homes instead of together.

A rich, chocolaty smell rose up from the bowl. Brownies had been Joby’s favorite, too. Her son. Even thirty-three years on, she thought about him every day.

Audrina sprinkled in some walnuts and opened the oven. A full-body heat drenched her. As if it weren’t hot enough already. At least the damn mentalpause has long gone. A smile curved her mouth. Mavis had always called it the mentalpause. She breathed out her sorrow. She would miss her old neighbor and her unique turn of phrase.

Audrina moved her wooden spoon in a figure eight and wondered how friendly the new arrivals would be.

Mavis and Derek Atwell had been the perfect neighbors, quiet and reserved, and they had rarely used their garden. Even in the beginning, their children had been too old to play in the tree house, and over the ten years the family lived there, they had grown up and moved out, one by one. Mavis and Derek had always been willing to indulge in a round of canasta and a glass of sherry on a Saturday night, though. Mavis hadn’t quite met her eye when she said they were moving on. To be nearer the grandchildren.

Audrina had patted her on the shoulder, despite the flare of envy. It was much easier, these days, to dampen it down, but sometimes it burned.

Cooper opened the back door. His eyes, blue and watery, snagged hers.

“Any chance of a drink? I’m as parched as this blasted grass. Damn greenhouse is so hot.”

She set down her spoon.

“Tea? Or something cool?”

His face, as familiar to her as the liver spots on the back of her hand, broke into a smile.

“Tea. And a custard cream.”

* * *

He was forking the earth by one of his bushes when she carried out the tray. She watched him through the fading light. A sprig of baby’s breath poked from his pocket. He was bent over, and one of his socks had half fallen down his leg. Audrina was swallowed up by a rush of love.

He worked so damn hard. In the garden. Volunteering for charity. Neighborhood watch. She supposed he was consumed by the same need to forget as she was. To fill his empty spaces with dirt.

Mavis hadn’t known what to say when she’d told her about Joby a week after the Atwells moved in. Seven years younger than Audrina, she had come from a family where arguments were rare, and if they did happen, they were patched up over tea or telephone calls, a race to apologize first.