“You not being you would indeed be a loss to the world.”

Martha felt herself blush and glanced at her companion. “Do you mean that?”

“I may, on occasion, withhold information, but I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean. The point of speech is to communicate clearly.”

Martha focused on the road. “Well, I know I communicate more frequently than the average person, so if you want me to be quiet, say so. Say, Martha, enough! I won’t be offended.”

“Your good nature is a remarkable quality, and it is my good fortune to be traveling with you.”

An expert on identifying sarcasm thanks to long experience with her family, Martha decided that Kathleen meant what she said. A feeling of contentment settled around her. She was used to spending her time around people who constantly tore her down and this was a refreshing change. “Well, I feel lucky to be traveling with you. Go me, I say! Most of my friends are busy this summer—holidays, jobs and stuff—so I was bracing myself for a lonely, miserable summer until I saw your ad for this job.” And her friends had been impressed when she’d told them about it. Less so her family, who seemed incapable of being impressed by anything she did.

“I cannot imagine you being miserable, Martha. And I’m sure someone like you has more friends than there are hours in the day to connect with them.”

Was that true? “Well, I know a lot of people—but friendship is a weird thing, isn’t it? There are friends who would drop everything to help you in a crisis—they’re like gold dust. And then friends who you meet in the pub and you chat about your week but they don’t really have a clue what’s going on in your head, or in your life. I’m not saying that’s not friendship, but it’s a different type of friendship, isn’t it? A good friend can feel like family.” In her case, better than family, but admittedly it was a pretty low bar.

“Yes. A true friend can indeed be like family.” The wistful note in Kathleen’s voice made Martha wonder.

She had a feeling that for all her reticence, Kathleen did want to talk about it. Just because you didn’t find talking easy, didn’t mean you didn’t want to do it. Like everything, it took practice.

She tried a little encouragement, promising herself she’d back off at the first sign of retreat on Kathleen’s part. “After the affair—you and Ruth lost touch?”

Kathleen shifted in her seat. “She wrote to me, but I never opened her letters.”