Theresa shook her head. “No, no. I’ve been spooked before, and it’s not fun. Besides, no one’s at my house either.” She smiled. “We can keep each other company. Won’t that be fun?”

TWELVE

Theresa

Kendra’s house felt two-sided. The front half was fancy, a formal sitting room in all white, oil paintings of her boys on the wall, an upright piano with expensive-looking ceramic haunted houses on top. But the back of the house was like the nerve center—kitchen counters cluttered with bills, newspapers, vitamins, coats piled on breakfast table chairs. I liked it best, the reality of it, the sense of family and a life packed full of energy. The small den, where we settled, had two well-worn love seats, fluffy and cozy to sink into, and a massive TV mounted on the wall.

Kendra opened a bottle of wine and poured it into two glasses with skeleton hands as their bases. She was still wearing work clothes—sleek black slacks, a floral shirt, and a blazer—and I wished I’d had on something other than yoga pants. I hadn’t worn any of my business clothes since we’d moved, and I missed that powerful feeling that came from a well-tailored pair of pants and the right heels.

Thanks to the Ivies, though, it looked like I might get to wear them again soon.

“Oh hey. I meant to tell you. I got a call from the Post yesterday.” I grinned. “This girl may or may not have a job interview next week.”

Kendra handed me my wineglass. It was surprisingly light, the skeleton bones made of a flimsy plastic. “That’s great. Was it Sharita?”

I nodded. “It’s exciting. But I’m also nervous. I haven’t done one of these things in ages, it feels like.”

I wanted that job, a big step up in my career. Adam and I could be that power couple people envied. But I also wanted to show my new friends that their string-pulling was worth it. That I was worth it. I was already imagining the happy hour celebration we could have with the crystal champagne flutes Adam and I had gotten as wedding gifts last year but had yet to use.

“You’ll kill it.” Kendra held up her wine. “Cheers to new adventures.”

We toasted, and I eased back into the cushions.

Kendra drank her glass fast and poured another. “I don’t usually drink during the week. But after the day I’ve had—the week—I really needed this.”

I chuckled at this confession. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“I’ll be hungover tomorrow and regret it.” She sighed. “God, in college we would start drinking right after class and then go to a party at ten and be out all night. I’m old.”

“Yeah, but would you really want to still do that now? I for one am glad that life is behind me.”