Bettina pursed her lips. “Great. Well, just let me know about the babysitting thing.”

“Will do. Oh and, Bettina,”—I stepped onto the sidewalk and lowered my voice as Lily went back to decorating—“thanks again for the hookup with Sharita. It’s a big deal to get a call from the Post.”

“I know.” Bettina didn’t warm to gratitude, though I did note a small smile. “I hope it goes well. Sharita and I have been friends for a—” Bettina stopped, her eyes focused on my sweater.

I looked down. She was staring at my leaf pin. I’d affixed it to my wool sweater because it went well with the yellow color.

“Nice pin,” she said, in a tone that did not suggest nice.

I touched it self-consciously. “Kendra gave it to me the other night,” I said.

“I didn’t realize she’d gotten that back.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, staring at the pin as though it might jump off my chest and bite her.

“Gotten it back?” I asked, flustered. “From who?” But I already knew. Of course. Kendra had said, I got them for everyone for Christmas years ago.

“It’s funny,” Bettina went on as if reading my thoughts. “You kind of remind me of her. You are both very...ambitious.”

FOURTEEN

Kendra

The bathwater was scorching. Just like I wanted it. Hot enough to turn my skin bright red. I snuck away after dinner to take a midweek evening soak and think through everything swirling in my head.

I want whatever is best for my family.

Wasn’t that basically what Theresa had said? I respected that. I lived that. Everything I’d done, I’d done for my family.

No matter the sacrifice.

Theresa Pressley wasn’t a softy after all. She had those mellow eyes and dewy skin, but the other night I saw a fire inside her. She’d raised a kid on her own after her lousy ex-fiancé dumped her, after all. And got her new hubby a fancy job in an elite school district. She wasn’t afraid to take risks to get what she wanted.

Now I knew why she had seemed so familiar to me, why I’d felt like I knew her from somewhere. Because she reminded me of myself.

Yes, Theresa Pressley was a fighter. Like me. We both had secrets to keep, things we’d done to make sure our kids, our families, would succeed. The problem with a secret was that you had to be constantly vigilant about keeping it. Not tell it to the wrong people. Time made us soft. It blurred things. If you weren’t careful, you could forget what you most needed to remember.

Everything had been fine for so long now, for so many years, that we’d all become complacent. I blamed myself.

I’d let Jackie off my radar. Figured she’d moved on. Figured everything was long buried and forgotten.