Marjory kept trying to convince her to come and volunteer at the Salvation Army charity store with her. She said it would be a good way for her to get out of the house. But Jill had no interest at all in joining Marjory at the Salvos. Marjory had told her stories of what the other women were like — the ones who’d been there the longest and had unofficially appointed themselves as management, who sniped at Marjory if she discounted a second-hand pair of shoes or tutted if she rearranged the racks in a different way to what they thought was best. Marjory laughed with Jill about their self-importance, but Jill knew she wouldn’t be able to stand being bossed around by a bunch of officious women when she used to run an entire staff of teachers and had control over eight-hundred students at Wattle Crest High before she’d retired.

Sometimes she thought she’d retired too early. Sometimes she felt she could walk into Wattle Crest and step right back into the principal’s shoes today. Other days she knew everything had changed in the schooling system since she’d left and that her ways wouldn’t cut it anymore.

She could call her daughter-in-law, check if she needed any help with the babies. But she didn’t want to seem overbearing. Pete’s wife had been the first to marry into their family. Mimi — an absolute goddess with her long black curls. Tall and striking, way out of her son’s league. Weak and strong all at once. Despite the physical imbalance, they were the perfect match. Better suited even than she and Frank had been all those years. There was just something about them. They were equals. Best friends. You could tell there were no secrets in that marriage.

And Mimi always made sure Pete took on his fair share of the housework and the parenting. Not like when she was raising three boys with Frank. Yes, it was the new way but it was also Mimi. Strong and firm. Yet somehow, Mimi had let Pete railroad her into another pregnancy. A weakness.

It was clear she didn’t want to have any more children, especially after all the trouble they’d had falling pregnant with Tara. And Jill knew the age difference made it difficult at times for the sisters to bond. The gap particularly widened when Callie hit her teen years and had been stretching ever since. After all, what did a sixteen-year-old have in common with an eight-year-old? But at the same time, they were still sisters and they did love one another. Jill could see it in the way Callie was protective of her younger sister and in the way Tara looked up to her, even as she pretended she didn’t.