Donovan stacked the contracts neatly before he shoved them into the backpack. He offered up a jaunty salute, thanked them for the coffee, and headed for the door. Then he stopped. “You are not to discuss anything that transpired in this house today. Someone from the organization will be in touch. You’ll all be receiving daily overnight packets. Do exactly what they say and things will work out smoothly. You have ten days to get your lives settled. You can expect a special overnight package with the final details on the ninth day. It’s been a pleasure talking with all of you. Good-bye.”

“Wait a minute. What about mail forwarding?” Slick asked.

“That goes under the heading of taking care of things. That’s another way of saying you won’t be receiving any mail where you will be residing.” And without another word, Poke Donovan left the condo.

The five women stared at one another. No one seemed willing to break the silence.

Sam played with the collar of her pajama top. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you breakfast. I can call us a cab, and we can go to Mulligan’s. We all have to pick up our cars anyway. We also need to talk. What do you say?” Sam said.

The first three Rainford wives agreed. Sam and Slick sprinted upstairs, where they brushed their teeth and donned jeans and T-shirts. They were back downstairs in less than fifteen minutes.

“I called the taxi company. The cab’s waiting. I think we should go to Flip’s first so we can all pick up our cars. We can meet up at Mulligan’s afterward. Is that okay with everyone?” Olivia asked.

It was.

The women piled into the cab. Sam hadn’t bothered to lock her front door. What was the point?

Mulligan’s was a local breakfast and lunch establishment that had been on the corner of Lotus and Sizemore Streets forever. Some people referred to it as a cafe. Others just called it Mulligan’s. It opened at five in the morning and closed promptly at two thirty in the afternoon. The elder Mulligans made fresh bread daily. Mrs. Mulligan made her own strawberry-peach preserves, which the establishment was known for. They were known for other things, too, like the fresh eggs that were brought in daily from the farm in McLean where the Mulligans lived. Their milk and cream, which also was from the farm, was so fresh that the cream was yellow and sweet, the perfect complement to the fresh-ground coffee. The line for take-out coffee and cinnamon rolls had its own cash register. Most days the line of people waiting for a table, even on rainy, snowy days, circled around the block.

Sam was stunned when they all piled into the restaurant and were ushered to a table capable of seating five people. Then she looked at her watch. The rush hour was over.