Maggie thought about the people she knew, close and far, new and old, alive and dead, and followed the chains of love that linked them, sometimes beautifully, sometimes not. When two people shared love, they noticed the best in each other. But love could also keep a person from seeing the truth … from noticing the bad. Maggie supposed the cliché about love being blind was true. And what a dangerous circumstance that could be.

But what a wonderful thing, too.

The next day, Maggie softly closed the back door behind her. Her mother and Wren were still sleeping, and she didn’t want to wake them. She’d warned them the night before that she’d be heading to Carlton first thing in the morning; she just hadn’t mentioned how early—or, for that matter, why so early.

Pink formed fluffy clumps across the sky. The rosy clouds reminded Maggie of a girl’s slippers. As she made her way to the driveway, the wind swooped her hair up from behind and prodded her in the direction of the lake. She resisted the nudge. This wasn’t a day for beach walks. After she got into Mom’s car and started the engine, she sent a brief text: Be there by two. Keep an eye out for me. Maggie

Just a reminder. Last night, she’d sent some longer messages—emails to a few different people. And she’d received responses.

As she traveled toward home, she thought about Linnie and Danielle. Over dessert the previous evening, they had discussed the possibility of a Christmas Eve party—just the Pinsky family, Linnie, the Blakes, and Maggie’s small family. Maggie wondered about Caleb. Maybe, if he was around, he’d come.

Before she knew it, she was halfway to Carlton. The drive wasn’t difficult at all. Easy enough to go back and forth on some weekends to see Wren, Linnie, Sam, and her book club friends. She didn’t want to miss any more meetings.