“How do you feel about red?” The woman had handed the dress to Liza. “With your coloring, it would look fantastic.”

The dress was red, strappy and totally unsuited to her lifestyle.

Liza had bought it, along with a pair of shoes most definitely not designed for walking.

Did she feel guilty? No, she felt light-headed and young. Instead of buying a dress to suit her lifestyle, she was going to choose a lifestyle that matched her dress.

Liza walked from the boutique to the delicatessen next door.

One of the advantages of being here on her own was that she didn’t have to think about creating meals for a family.

Balancing a basket on her arm, she picked up a stick of crusty French bread still warm from the oven. Then she added Italian ham, a couple of French cheeses, ruby red tomatoes still on the vine and a jar of plump green olives.

“Liza?”

If she could have hidden, she would. She’d been enjoying her freedom. She didn’t want to connect with anyone. She wanted to be able to focus on herself without being considered selfish.

“Oh my, how many years has it been?” The woman looked as if she’d stepped out of a yoga session, her hair in a ponytail and her face shiny and pink. “You do recognize me?”

It took Liza a moment. “Angie? Angie!”

“Why so surprised? I live here, remember?”

“You moved to—” She racked her brains. “Boston. Your husband’s job?” What was his name? Jeremy? Jonah?

Angie pulled a face. “He’s still there. We’re divorced.”

“I’m sorry.” Life, Liza thought. It bit chunks out of all of them. “I wish you’d emailed me or called.”

“We hadn’t been in touch for a while. I didn’t want to be the moany friend. It was rough at the time and for a few years after but we’ve both moved on. John remarried and has a baby.”

John.

“A baby?”

Angie rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to be tactful. He’s fifty-three. My revenge is imagining him dealing with nappies and sleepless nights. Not that he handled those things first time around. Oh Liza—it’s so good to see you. Do you have time for a coffee? There’s a place around the corner.”

Her instinct was to say yes. It was what she did, every time. To every person in her life.

But there were things she wanted to do with her afternoon and evening, and she’d been looking forward to them.

“I would love to catch up, but there are things I have to do this afternoon.” Saying it felt hard, but she said it anyway. But she was truly pleased to see Angie. “Why don’t you come over to the house tomorrow?”

“To Oakwood? You’re staying with your mother?”

“She’s driving across America. Route 66.”