Poppy walked over to the bookcase and pulled out a yellowed, moth-eaten dime-store paperback of All Creatures Great and Small—Connie had loved that series about the British veterinarian. She’d forgotten how her father had used scraps of toilet paper as bookmarks. They floated to the floor, and Ann panicked: she’d never again know which pages he’d marked.

Noah set the water glasses down. Ann counted: one, two, three, four … five. “Why are you setting five places? Who else are you expecting?”

“A friend,” Poppy said. “He should be here soon.”

“What friend?”

“Just a friend. Someone I met out here.”

Ann wasn’t sure what to do next. The windowsills were rotting. So much to do, so much, and now Carol was out of the picture. Noah, always alert, sensed her tension. He stood behind Ann and rubbed her shoulders. “You should try some of Poppy’s lavender oil.”

“Her what?”

“She says if you rub it on your feet it’ll relax you.”

“The only thing oil on your feet does is make you slip and fall.”

“Your feet are incredibly receptive,” Poppy said. “If you stand on an onion for half an hour you’ll start to taste it.”

“Who has time to stand on an onion for half an hour?”

Brad laughed.

“God, you haven’t changed,” Poppy said.

“Dinner is a long way from being done,” Brad said. “I’m not sure the oven works the way it’s supposed to.”

“It worked in 1979,” Poppy said, and hit Brad’s ass with a dish towel. Poppy lit some candles and opened the game cabinet next to the fireplace where the family stored taped-up boxes holding ancient versions of Boggle, Parcheesi, Chinese checkers, and Pollyanna. There were at least a dozen decks of cards held together with crusty rubber bands, scattered dice and orphan game pieces. Poppy dug around. “Where’s Yahtzee?”

Ann knew the game cabinet would be the last—and the hardest—space to clean out. If a house had a heart, that’s where it was.

“I guess we’ll do a jigsaw puzzle.” Poppy held the box in front of Noah, smiled, and shifted into a graceful, well-practiced warrior three position while dumping the puzzle pieces into a dusty mound on the kitchen table where Ann had picked up the cards. Ann thought Poppy was showing off, forcing the world to acknowledge that yes, she taught yoga and yes, she was still in great shape. Yes, yes, yes—there was always an imperative to admire Poppy for her easy good looks, her sweetness, her athleticism, and her free spirit.

Poppy opened another bottle of wine and poured three glasses almost to the rims. “Here,” Poppy said, holding the glass in front of Ann like a peace offering. “You need this.”

“Now you’re talking,” said Brad, who lifted his glass to initiate a toast. “To this awesome place.”