She answered on the first ring. Fear sizzled along my forearms. She told me not to worry, she wasn’t bringing out the picketers again, but she had something to talk over with me. Could I meet her tomorrow at the Lava Java? I imagined the visual of Jill and me in a booth sharing a chat over our mocha lattes. Making noises about people who could be too curious at such a popular spot, I suggested somewhere more private, a place I frequented, the apple orchard at the university arboretum. The weather had been temperate; it would probably be good enough to sit outside on a stone bench for a very brief time. And I fervently hoped it would need only a very brief time.

Tomorrow, then, Jill said, about three?

The next day, there I was. As I waited, snow began to fall, of course it did, first lacy lazy flakes that gilded the darkening grove of squat, skeletal, snow-buffed trees, as the late afternoon sun pierced the cloud bank. There were eight hundred apple trees of different varieties. We used to come here often when Stefan was small. The arboretum allowed visitors to gather apples free on two specified weekends in the fall. There were signs urging everyone to share; but there were always a brigade of aggressive Mennonites armed with rakes and baskets the size of baby strollers menacing the rest of us with the force of their virtue.

Jill pulled in exactly at three.

We were the only ones there.

It occurred to me that I hadn’t told Jep that today was the day, and I hadn’t told Stefan anything at all.

Despite the snow, it was not really cold, and we got out and slowly walked toward each other like gunfighters, advancing on some imaginary middle line. I didn’t reach out to touch her, to shake her hand or hug her—although that would have happened in the movie. I didn’t say she looked well. She didn’t ask if I was teaching. She smiled then, a clear message of rapprochement; and I recalled with a pang how decent and gentle Jill had always been in the before times.

“Yikes, Thea,” she said, reaching out and nearly touching my lip before she caught herself and held back. “What does the other guy look like?”

“I’m sure you know what happened.”

“I do. That must have been awful.”

“It was scary. I was scared.”

“Now you know how scary it would be to have someone hit you,” Jill said. “First, I should say thank you, Thea. Thank you so much for coming.”

I said, “Do you remember that time we baked mini-muffins for the kids’ soccer game and, on the way, I went around a corner so fast that we spilled them all onto the floor mats? And we kept trying to pick the dog hair off them? For like ten minutes?”