Vicki did have some anxiety about sharing a hotel room with another human—she was too used to traveling alone—but her fears were tempered by her desire to see Hannah, a real friend, who made her laugh, unlike her acquaintances in Rochester.

There were probably a few interesting twenty- and thirtysomethings at Vicki’s office, but she would most likely never meet them. As an interior designer for Walton’s, a national supermarket chain known for its upscale prepared-food section, she spent 90 percent of her time on the road, visiting stores around central New York and Pennsylvania to make sure that the bakery signs were placed an appropriate distance from the ceiling and that the walls in the new stores had been painted the right shade of yellow.

She only spoke to a few people a day, usually to give them orders about moldings or wallpaper. She was out of practice with real conversation. That’s probably why she’d been so awkward during the phone call with Hannah about the SAD-Lite.

“I have to tell you,” Vicki had said, when she firmed up plans with Hannah a few weeks before, “I’ll be bringing a lamp.”

“Like, a heat lamp?” Hannah asked, confused.

“A depression lamp. A seasonal affective disorder lamp.”

“You have seasonal affective disorder?” Hannah asked skeptically. “You seemed fine during all those years up in Syracuse. It snowed for two years straight and you were pretty content, if I remember correctly.”

“Who knows? Jesus, Hannah, I have no idea what I have.” Vicki responded with a frustrated laugh. “I have something. I just don’t know what it is.”

There was a pause. Vicki waited, desperate to know what Hannah now thought of her once-normal friend.

“Can I try the lamp too?” Hannah finally asked, playfully.

Vicki smiled into the phone, relieved that Hannah was still making jokes. “Sure.”

“Is this about Rich?”

“No!” Vicki barked. “No. God, no. Not everybody wants to get back together with their college boyfriend, Hannah.”

“Fine, then,” Hannah snapped. “Is this—could this be because you spend all day in grocery stores? Because that would be my guess,” Hannah asked, more seriously.

“No,” Vicki answered too quickly.

“Well…,” she continued, after taking a moment to think. “Maybe it is. I don’t know. I just know that this lamp is supposed to help me not want to jump off a bridge.”

“Okay,” Hannah said slowly. “Wow. A lamp.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you get a tan from it?”

“You’re an idiot.”

Hannah moved on, telling Vicki all about Bee’s bridesmaids, who sounded truly awful from Hannah’s description of the bachelorette party in Atlantic City. Then Hannah brought up the subject of Tom, whom she would be seeing for the first time since he moved out almost three years ago.

“I’m freaking out,” Hannah admitted. “Just the idea that he’ll be there with some woman. I don’t know if I can take it.”

This was one of the reasons Vicki missed living near Hannah. Hannah wasn’t at all ashamed that she was still pining for a guy she hadn’t dated in years. Vicki always felt the need to look strong, or at the very least to keep her misery to herself, but Hannah was never private about her emotions. She shared, even when it was inappropriate. She could have been a great actress, Vicki thought as she listened to Hannah’s jealous spiral.