“I’m getting some ideas,” Justine said. “We should resurface the beautiful hardwood floors, get some new area rugs, forget reupholstering and shop for some good furniture deals. How do you like peach for the kitchen and beige accented by navy blue walls in the living room—that would be stunning, I think. The bathrooms should be redone from the tile up. And I’d love to texture the walls in the entry and hang a large silver framed mirror and maybe an understated chandelier. We can talk about all this later... For the dining room—”

“I can’t concentrate right now,” Addie said, feeling as if she might suffocate.

“I’ll get this confusion cleared up and things put away quickly, Addie,” Justine said.

“No worries,” she said. “I think I’ll go out for a while, maybe meet up with Jake. Can I bring you back something to eat?”

“You go out and get away from this mess. I know it’s stressful, and I’ll make something simple—grilled cheese maybe for me and the girls.”

Addie stepped out onto the porch and called Jake.

“Well, hey! You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said with surprise in her voice, just realizing she almost never called him, only when she needed something. “Are you working tonight?”

“If I have nothing better to do,” he said. “Do I have something better to do?”

“I wonder if I could see your house?” she asked.

* * *

Adele hadn’t truly been that interested in Jake’s house when she called him. She really wanted to talk about the conflict she was feeling. She wanted Justine and the girls to live with her; she didn’t want Justine redecorating her house so that it reflected Justine and not Adele. Not that Adele had come up with any good renovation ideas in the eight years she’d had to think about it.

When all the boxes started stacking up, it felt like the walls closed in on her. When Justine started picking out colors for the walls, she began to feel as though Justine was the parent and she was the child, and she had to get out. Now she was standing on Jake’s porch waiting because he wasn’t home from the market yet.

She remembered when Jake bought this old house six or seven years ago. He said he bought it because he liked the look of the stone porch and the slanted roof with dormer windows. He had said it was a bloody awful mess that he looked forward to renovating. When she questioned the wisdom of buying a run-down house when his mother lived in a perfectly nice house, a paid-for house where Jake could live for free, he’d said, “An investment is a good idea, and one that I can take all the credit for is an even better idea. The trees around the yard are mature, the frame is solid, the wiring and plumbing are still sound and very little has to be done on the outside. Besides, how long should a single man live with this mother?”

Another complication of living with his mother was every time Marty had a marriage or romance fall apart, which seemed to happen with regularity, he moved home to their mother’s house, and he was the kind of force of nature that sucked all the air out of a room. Jake and his mother had lived quietly. There was not a quiet bone in Marty’s body.

Jake pulled up and got out of his truck. He had a grocery sack in one arm and a bunch of cellophane-wrapped flowers in the other.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have...”

“I didn’t,” he said. “They were going to be thrown out so I grabbed them. I do that all the time. Most of my diet is made up of expired food. I might not spend a lot of time here, but when I do I like it to be nice.”

He unlocked the door and motioned for her to step inside. When he came into the entry behind her, he flipped on a light. The foyer was small so the light shone into the living room. As the house wasn’t big, she could see the living room and dining room in an L-shape, and she assumed the kitchen was behind the wall on her right. She walked into the living room and looked around. The kitchen was separated from the dining room by a breakfast bar that could seat three. On the living room wall to her left was a large stone fireplace, the stone matching that on the front of the house and porch.

It was beautiful. Masculine with the dark velour sectional and recliner, heavy side tables and coffee table, chunky wood dining room table with six chairs. He had a buffet over which hung a painting of an antiquated lean-to surrounded by wildflowers with a mountain in the background.

The thing that impressed her the most was how clean it was. It wasn’t just tidy. There wasn’t a thing sitting out, not even a stack of mail. Not a speck of dust or a streak on the windows.

“Wow,” she said.

Addie was, admittedly, a little on the messy side. She tended to leave dishes in the sink and let the laundry pile up until it became an emergency. She wasn’t good about putting away her shoes, and she had far too many jackets or sweaters draped on chair backs—and that was before Justine and the girls added to the clutter.

While she was looking around, Jake went to the kitchen. He pulled some aging and tired looking flowers out of a vase, dropped them in the trash and rinsed out the vase. He snipped off the ends of the new flower stems right into the trash and created an instant centerpiece.

“How about a glass of wine,” he said, unpacking his groceries.

She watched as he put away a half dozen eggs, two oranges, two apples, two bananas, some bacon and a loaf of bread, suspecting they were past their sell-by date.

“That sounds great,” she said. “I had a tiring day. I went with Justine and the girls to their San Jose house to help them with dividing the furniture. Scott was there, too. I’m not sure, but it seemed like it was more taxing for me than for Justine.”

“How’d the girls do?”

“They were fine. Livvie said it made her very sad. They’re saying goodbye to a way of life. But I think my sister is glad to let it go right about now. She thinks her ex-husband is an idiot.”

Jake laughed. “Everyone thinks he’s an idiot.”

Addie burst into tears.

“Hey now,” he said, pulling her close, stroking her hair. “What’s got you upset? Was it the ordeal of dividing the property?”

She shook her head and wiped impatiently at her eyes. “Jake, Justine is going to take over my life. She’s going to pick the paint colors for my house, choose the furniture, probably select our meals. To her I’m no different than one of her daughters.”

“You might be worried about that, but it doesn’t have to happen,” he said. “I’m going to pour some wine and light a fire. Sit down and relax and tell me about your day.”

She watched from the sofa while he puttered in the kitchen and brought two glasses to the coffee table. Then he got to the task of lighting a fire, a real fire. He pulled logs from the caddy on the hearth and stacked them neatly on the grate. He added some starter pine cones.

She was reminded of something she’d always taken for granted—Jake was an attractive man. He was tall, fit, had a full head of dark hair and his dark eyes glittered when he smiled. His butt in those jeans was a perfect fit, and they were neither tight nor loose. He always wore a greengrocer’s shirt, and there was no belly spilling over the belt. He had big hands, and she imagined those hands on her and realized that he was patient and kind and quite sexy.

“I take you for granted,” she said to his back.

He glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t feel that you do.” The fire began to take life from the starter cones, and he sat on the couch beside her.

“Why do you suppose you never remarried?” she asked him.

“And exactly who would I marry, Adele?”

“Oh come on, you know half the women in town would leave their husbands for you.”

“And regret it, I’m sure. I think after a bad marriage and worse divorce, you get real picky about who you hang around with. I’d probably try it again if the right person came along. What’s your excuse?”

A huff of laughter escaped her. “I was a shut-in for eight years.”

“Not really. When you were helping with your dad, before your mom’s stroke, you didn’t get out a lot but you got out. I remember you worked at the Ridgemont Hotel for a couple of years.”

“Part-time,” she said. “But the last four years before Mom died I didn’t get out much at all.”

“You’re sure on the go now.”

“I’m almost too busy. And I’m going to add school to the schedule.” She sipped her wine. “I’m pretty excited about that. Except that I suppose I’ll be running into Hadley regularly.”

“The professor,” Jake said.

“But I’m thoroughly over him,” she said. “At last.”

“How do you know?” Jake asked.

“He was coming on strong, suggesting we give it another go. The nerve of that ass, after leaving me alone, pregnant, never once even calling to see if I was all right, after never offering to help in any way. If I see him walking across the campus, I might run him over with my car.”

“This is a change,” he said. “For a long time you were brokenhearted and grief-stricken, wishing things had worked out differently, that you’d met before he was married or after he was divorced.”

“I know. I should have gotten out more. It might have been lack of fresh air, all my common sense dried up. Brain atrophy. In fact, I’ll be honest. When I first ran into him and we sat down for a glass of wine and clearing the air, I had a slight relapse. He made good excuses for never reaching out. And he even seemed to be remorseful. The second time I saw him, he was all about getting busy. He used all the same lines that won me over the first time!”

“Ouch,” Jake said.

“Nah, no ouch. I was angry. I don’t know if I was angrier with him or myself. But I’m glad that’s out of the way. He’s no longer tempting. There’s a lot of freedom in that.”

“I remember the feeling,” he said.

“Mary Ellen?”