Ann looked up at the potted plant on her shelf, and at the padded cubicles in the now-empty office. A cleaning person was emptying the garbage. Just beyond her window she saw the sun setting over the Prudential Tower. Somewhere out there was Cape Cod—and Poppy. All these years of not knowing or even being able to imagine where her sister was, and now she was home. Once the houses were sold, what would happen to her family? Would they become just a memory with no physical ties to place, no history? Is that what houses really were, containers for families? And once the containers were gone, the people inside were just set loose in the world, particles.

She saw people walking down Commonwealth and Newbury. Wouldn’t it be nice to be carefree, to meet up with friends, go on a date? She imagined herself sidling up to the bar with a guy she was excited to be with. She’d catch the bartender’s attention. “I’ll have a martini,” she’d say, and a warm hand would rub her back. This nameless, perfect man always appeared in her fantasies as Michael, but why? Perhaps because he’d once been her best companion before she pushed him away. A companion, that’s what she wanted. She wished she could tell him about her day, about Mindy’s spreadsheet, about Noah’s latest exploit, about Anthony, about selling the house in Wellfleet, about how nervous she was to see Poppy again. “Can you imagine?” she’d say. “I’m nervous to see my own sister!” And, familiar with the contours of her life, he’d nod in understanding.

She shut down her computer. She couldn’t stand the idea of being alone like this forever.

TWENTY-NINE

Poppy

Brad stood in the alley next to Poppy’s mother’s Civic, his callused fingers gripping the edge of her rolled-down window. It was only four in the morning, and his hair glowed copper under the streetlight. He leaned in to kiss Poppy. She could tell he wanted it to be a slow, meaningful kiss, but she wanted to get it over with, get on the road, get through Chicago before rush hour, get to Cape Cod, get away. She was in “go” mode.

“Come back soon,” he said.

“I can’t promise anything.”

“I’ll wait for you,” he said. “And I can come visit you. I’d love to see the Wellfleet house. Your parents talked about it all the time.”

“That would be great,” Poppy said, but she knew she sounded halfhearted.

“What’s going on with you?” Brad asked.

Why did everything about him have to appeal to her? The blunt shape of his nose, the intelligence in his eyes. What was wrong with her? She left all the time. But she didn’t want to hurt him. “You need to live your life.”

“We’ve got something special. You know it.”