Riley stopped talking. Of course there was a time. When she came home pregnant and needed the support of her family. Her mother didn’t demand complicated explanations, didn’t ask a lot of questions, didn’t force her opinion. She asked Riley what she wanted to do and stood firmly beside her. Her grandparents’ first reaction was that she’d better get married and take her lumps, but June protected her, kept her safe from the opinions of others, didn’t judge her. June had done everything in the world to help her.

 “Never mind,” Riley said.

 “Indeed,” June replied.

 “Am I supposed to be happy Adam has someone even if she’s someone I can never have as a friend?”

 “You should be very quiet in your speculation because you don’t know and neither do I. I haven’t seen Emma in many years. Who knows if she feels affection or just friendship? In fact, who knows if Emma is the one he’s—”

 “Oh, it’s Emma,” Riley said. But then she stopped herself from saying more. In her heart she knew that shy little blush was related to Adam. Because that’s the kind of luck she had where that woman was involved. And also, she could still read Emma. And Emma could no doubt read her. Just like when they were young.

 “I just hope I’ll see her before too much longer,” June said. “I can’t tell you how often I’ve thought about that girl, worried about her. I practically raised her. For a while there I thought she’d lassoed the moon, but that didn’t last long, did it? It nearly crushed the life out of her.” She tsked, shook her head, took a sip of her wine. “I think your splitting up with Emma was as hard on all of us as it was on you.”

 I was a pregnant eighteen-year-old—nothing was as hard as that, she thought. “Always poor little Emma,” Riley said meanly. “Do you think... I mean, is it at all possible... Honestly, you think Adam has been waiting for her? All these years?”

 June thought about that. She shook her head. “Not deliberately,” she said. “And yet...”

 They sipped their wine quietly. After a long spell, Riley broke the silence. “We’re going to remodel this old kitchen. Get all new appliances.”

 “I like my appliances and I’m comfortable in this kitchen. It’s like my skin.”

 “We’re going to do it anyway. For resale value.”

 “When I’m dead,” June said.

 “I think that will be too late,” Riley said.

 “But not for me,” June replied.

 “I’m going to have to pass on the meat loaf. I have other plans.”

 “Oh?” June said.

 “Since Maddie’s going to be at Kylie’s, I can grab a salad on the way home, get in my softest pajamas and read. I’m in the middle of a really good book.”

 “You haven’t finished your wine,” June said.

 “I’m anxious to get out of these panty hose...”

 “You want to ditch me so you can think about all this. Listen, don’t think too much, Riley. Adam tends to act on instinct—just kind of feeling his way. You know things happen for a reason.”

 Not always, she thought. But yes, sometimes. Whether this was one of those times was still an unhappy mystery.

 She stood. “I’m not going to think. I’m going to read and relax and enjoy a quiet evening. I hope I haven’t disappointed you.”

 “I’m fine. I’ve become very happy about my own quiet time.”

 Riley kissed her mother’s cheek. “I won’t say a thing. I won’t even make a face. I’ll have to concentrate, however.”

 “It will go better that way, I promise.”

 Riley slipped into her coat, went to her car, drove to the nearest grocery parking lot and sat for a few moments. Thinking, of course. And letting her eyes well up with tears before she made herself stop. It was so crazy, thinking that Adam had, for all these years, thought of Emma, wanted Emma. Pined for her. To the point that the second she turned up, he was cooked. Done for.

 Riley’s hurt was deep. In all those sixteen years, Riley had felt such loneliness and guilt. And her family was now so happy, so relieved to have Emma back! Riley hadn’t had the courage to trust a friend since Emma left.

 She’d done everything she was determined to do in the last fifteen years. She’d focused on her business and her daughter, taking care of her mother, as well. Her best friends were the women she worked with and her family. In all that time, while other people had forged and ended relationships, sometimes moving on to loving unions that lasted, Riley had preferred not to be distracted or tempted. Even Jock, who she had once secretly wished would come to her and beg forgiveness and say he’d always loved her, had married and divorced. The only exception was her mother, and June claimed to be happy as she was; she had family and good friends and apparently no interest in romance. But Riley assumed that happened to old people.

 Here was Riley, thirty-five and alone. No interested man. No partner. Sitting in a damn parking lot at night, crying because her friend had let her go sixteen years without forgiving her for that one little... Okay, that one major mistake.

 She had a sudden vision of herself making meat loaf for charity, taking in old ugly dogs and watching movies alone for the rest of her life. Whimpering because Emma would never again be her friend. And it was her own fault.

 She dug around in her purse until she found a business card. She flipped it over and found the cell number. She texted:

 Are you completely out of melons already?

 What came back was:

 ??

 She texted: