Gretchen was caught off guard. “A little. Why?”

“You look tired.”

Her sleepless nights weren’t Amanda’s problem. “It’s been hard, but I’m sleeping.”

“What happened with Jax last night?”

“You are just full of fun questions this morning.”

“You were making a lot of noise. Jax checked on you, I heard some things, and then Jax avoided you and breakfast before she left.” Amanda shrugged. “I’m curious.”

She chuckled. “I’m honestly surprised it took you this long to ask.” She ran through her conversation with Jax in her head and didn’t really know what to tell Amanda. “I’m sure you already know most of it. I ruined our marriage and am a terrible mother, so on and so forth.”

Amanda dropped the cucumber she was slicing. “You’re supposed to remain as calm as possible, Gretchen. What makes you say that?”

“Coming home to a stranger’s life,” Gretchen said, finding it unbelievable Amanda didn’t already understand. “Everything’s different, and I don’t like any of it.”

Amanda placed the rest of the salad ingredients in the fridge and squared her shoulders. “Let’s get in that attic.”

Gretchen all but ran to the rope hanging from the ceiling. The attic was at the far end of the house and went untouched by the addition. She was grateful for at least that remaining the same. Reaching for the rope, Gretchen was surprised by Amanda’s firm grip on her shoulders.

“You’re on the sidelines completely. No straining, no lifting, no climbing. I’ll tell you what I see, and you let me know if you want it.” Amanda pulled down and unfolded the stairs.

Gretchen stepped out of the way. “Bring your phone so you can send me pictures.”

“It’s already in my pocket,” Amanda said over her shoulder as she ascended the narrow wooden stairs.

Gretchen clasped her hands together and held them to her chest. She felt hopeful that scattered pieces of her former life, her better life, still existed. She couldn’t wait for Amanda to uncover them. “What do you see? Take a picture.”

“I’m barely standing. You didn’t tell me it was so cramped.”

“It’s a tight fit.”

“I see a container labeled house stuff, and there’s a garment rack wrapped in plastic.”

“Look on the garment rack.”

“I don’t know if I can. You took your mothproofing very seriously. I probably need scissors.”

Gretchen started to grow antsy. “I can throw scissors up to you.”

“That is a terrible idea,” Amanda said. Her voice sounded farther away. “I’ll figure something out. Oh, hey, you have a bowling ball.”

“That was up there when we moved in.” Gretchen mentally walked through her attic—a tubful of decorations, their artificial Christmas tree, unmarked boxes. “Check the corner toward the front of the house. There should be a stack of three boxes.”

“Okay. I see them.” A thud followed. “Dammit.”

“What happened?” Gretchen strained to see up the stairs, even though she knew it was impossible.

Amanda cursed a few more times. “I’m fine. I just slammed my knee into the chest you have up here.”