Forty-five minutes later, just as Sam was fitting her key into the lock of her new home, her cell phone rang. She clicked it on, jiggling her shoulder bag and the key. “Slick! Wait, wait, I can barely hear you. Let me get inside. What’s wrong, you sound terrible. Then again, you’re half a world away. You’re not half a world away? You’re at Reagan National? Of course you can come here. Wait, I’m not in the old apartment. I moved into my new condo today. You have the address. You’re crying, Slick. Get a cab, and I’ll have the coffee on.”

Sam shrugged out of her coat and hung it in the closet. Her best friend in the whole world was coming to visit, and she was crying. Slick never cried. Never. Ever. Crying made the eyes puff, something no model could allow to happen. Something must have happened in her love life, and she was coming home to lick her wounds. They’d curl up by the fire and cry together, then talk it to death. At least with Slick here, she wouldn’t have to think about Douglas and his three ex-wives and getting dumped the day after her honeymoon.

In her bedroom, which was painted a delicate peach color, Sam shed her business suit and pulled on a navy sweat suit and heavy wool socks. She turned up the heat as she made her way to the kitchen to prepare her first dinner in her new abode. Stew and homemade bread. Perfect for a cold, blustery November day.

Don’t think, don’t think, she cautioned herself as she dredged the meat in flour, then browned it. In minutes she had the vegetables chopped and the stew set to simmer. The bread machine took an additional few minutes. She was proud of her pantry and stocked refrigerator and freezer. Don’t think about Douglas and the three wives that came before you. Don’t think, period.

All the dinner preparations had been taken care of with an economy of motion, the way Sam did everything. The oven was on, but it hadn’t yet reached the temperature required to bake the frozen blueberry pie compliments of Mrs. Smith. While she waited, she made her first pot of coffee in her new coffeepot. It was a bright cherry red machine.

Done. Sam smacked her hands together. Three wives and I never had a clue. Don’t think about it. It’s over and done with. Think about Slick and whatever her problem is.