For the first time in ages, it felt like everything would be okay.

No new texts from Lena the next morning, but when I went out to check the mail, she was on the sidewalk, coming back to her own house with a bundle of envelopes in her hand. Seeing her, I felt a smile forming on my lips, but then I remembered the seven unanswered texts. Why hadn’t I replied? Maybe she’d be hurt. Maybe I’d messed this up.

I stopped, and we stood facing each other at the end of her front walk. The sunlight glinted off her red curls, and with a quick smile, she said, “Hey there.”

The flutter of panic in my chest subsided. All that fear was just my crazy talking. Lena and I were good. “Want to walk with me?”

She waved the sheaf of letters. “Business day. Too much crappy paperwork. Tomorrow for sure.”

“Definitely. Tomorrow.” I started to walk past her, but she didn’t step aside.

“Where were you yesterday?” Her tone was light, casual, but her gray eyes were studying my face intently.

“Over at Elizabeth’s. She needed help with that committee thing.” Unbidden, Elizabeth’s pale face rose in my mind. My expression felt artificial, a mask I was trying to control. Could Lena tell I was lying?

She didn’t say anything, and her silence seemed deliberate. The force of her attention had been so bright, so welcoming, that by withholding it, she’d thrown me out in the cold.

“Did you hear about Sandy?” I asked, hoping to shock this stranger into becoming my friend again.

She nodded, her mouth a tight, unnatural line. Still she didn’t speak, but she didn’t leave either. We just stood there awkwardly.

Finally I blurted out, “I know you’re busy with work, but if you ever want, we could use your help on the committee.” Please say yes.

“Hard pass.” Another beat, and she glanced down at her phone. “Speaking of work … I’ll catch you later.”

Again, I felt uneasy, like I’d done something wrong. But Lena was always so open, so forthright. If she had a problem with me hanging out with Elizabeth or thought I was keeping a secret, wouldn’t she just say so?

The next day, she texted like nothing had happened. She and Brady came over for dinner at our place, and then the guys went back to disassembling the fence and putting together the tiered garden they’d been planning.

While Lena and I sipped pinot grigio, we talked about our childhoods, places we’d lived, things we loved. She had a million stories about clients, descriptions of homes Brady’s company had worked on, and zero sympathy for Sandy. But I was too grateful to care. I listened and laughed and watched Michael setting a timber tie in place, his shoulders tensed with the effort, his smiling eyes relaxed.