“But you found the courage now?” Jan asked.

“My daughters are grown,” she said. “They’ve moved away from home, though their bedrooms are still preserved for them. I can’t live there anymore. Especially now.”

“Let’s set up some appointments,” Jan said. “I want to help you through this.”

* * *

September brought Lauren’s very favorite time of the year and she began to relax as the air became crisp and cool. The harvest from the farmlands of the central valley brought out the most delicious displays of fresh fruits and vegetables in bins outside the grocery and at roadside stands. The last of the tomatoes were displayed among ears of corn and ripe apples. Next would come the squash and pumpkins. She brought home artichokes by the bagful, so cheap they were practically free. The fall colors gave her a sense of renewal, a hopefulness.

Lauren’s do-over began. She pushed herself to become friendlier with her coworkers, beginning with Bea. They had lunch together soon after their meeting and while they spent a little time discussing their war stories, they soon moved on to their very similar childhoods, both of them being raised by single mothers. Then she pushed her way into the small cliques that met to lunch together. She asked if she could join them. She was welcomed and quickly realized that she had been aloof and kept herself separate from the social side of work.

“Of course you were,” Bea told her. “I imagine you didn’t really want too many people to understand how imperfect and secretive your life really was. Time to get some counseling and support, Lauren.”

“I’m way ahead of you,” she said. “I started counseling already.”

She shared some of the beautiful vegetables she bought at out-of-the-way roadside stands. She made cookies and brought them to the office. And she kept her appointments with Jan Straight. For the first time she felt she might actually realize her hopes and dreams for a new kind of life.

She grew comfortable in her new friendships. She went out for drinks with the girls from work one evening and they all giggled like children. They were women she’d known for a long time and yet hardly knew at all. Carly, in her early fifties, was single and her widowed mother moved in with her as she grew older and had medical issues. Merline was just thirty-five, married to a contractor and the mother of three young children who drove her crazy most of the time. Shauna was forty, divorced and the mother of two teenage girls. Anne was sixty with her seventy-eight-year-old husband now in memory care. Her children were grown and didn’t live near enough to help out.

Lauren was pleasantly surprised to fit right in. They were all dealing with personal challenges of some sort. Some of them seemed rather alone, some had large families they were close with. But none of them had worked at Merriweather for as long and remained as remote as Lauren. They all supported each other and were willing to support Lauren, too.

“Sorry about the divorce, Lauren,” Carly said. “But I’m glad you decided to come out and play.”

“Me, too,” she said, and meant it.

“Congratulations on taking your life back,” Jan said after their first few sessions.

The changes that started with a new house and fresh vegetables proceeded to lunching with coworkers, seeing Lacey without arguing about the changes in their family dynamics, talking for at least a little while with Cassie almost every day and meeting Beau for an occasional glass of wine at the pub a few blocks away. She and Beau easily graduated to laughing over ordinary things like one of his fussier clients or some of her failed recipe experiments. On one lovely fall evening she made them gourmet artichokes, the leaves stuffed with blue cheese and bacon, doused in garlic butter. They ate on the front porch, drank wine and watched the sun set.

“Do you hear from him?” Beau asked her.

“Through my lawyer, and that’s all. Do you hear from her?” she asked.

“Constantly. But it’s all the same old stuff. Nothing new. She can’t turn the boys against me—they’re men now. Sadly for her, they’re men who know how mercurial she is. So she’s threatening to wipe me out, leave me completely broke.”

Lauren gasped. “What if she does?”

He smiled, a smile she had come to depend on. “I don’t care. I can start over. She can’t get more than half. Right?”

“Why do I feel guilty, asking for half?” she asked. “I’m not the surgeon. I didn’t endure a decade of medical school and residency. I didn’t build the practice...okay, on his father’s money, but still. It wasn’t mine.”

“Maybe you don’t need half,” Beau said, surprising her. “Maybe what you need is what’s fair and reasonable. But before you settle on a number, you should know what there is. And you should see if you can count the pinches. The bruises. And I don’t know that much about your marriage but... Could he have done any of it without you?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “With a maid, nanny, assistant, secretary, household manager...and whipping post.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

At the end of September, when the leaves were turning colors and people were putting fall wreaths on their doors, Beau called her one Friday afternoon. “How’s your poker game?” he asked.

“Poker?” she repeated.

“You know, cards. Your poker game.”

“I’m not sure I even remember how to play,” she said. “I might’ve played a couple of times in college, but we mostly played hearts.”

“Great! I’m getting a table together for tonight. Tim, my son, Drew, his current girlfriend, Darla, me and you. I’ll have food. Poker food. Seven. Will you come?”

“Oh... I don’t know...”

“I’ll tell everyone to go easy on you,” he promised. “Come on, it will be fun.”

Lauren took the address from Beau and opted to drive herself to his house, though she was tremendously nervous. Would Father Tim frown in a paternal way? Though Tim didn’t seem that fatherly, except in the clerical sense, and surely he would not be wearing a collar or robes... Would Beau’s son show his disapproval of her presence out of loyalty to his mother? And the girlfriend—would she be snooty and proprietary? Why ever would she think or worry about those things? Lauren didn’t know. Perhaps because she worried about many things.

“Hi,” Beau said when he opened the door. “Come in! We’re all here!”

She presented her offerings, though she wasn’t asked to bring anything.

“What’s this?” he asked, taking a couple of large, sealed containers from her.

“Stuffed mushrooms and a cheese ball.” She lifted a bag. “And crackers.”

“That was nice of you,” he said. “I didn’t mean for you to go to any trouble...”

“Well, I wanted to,” she said. “You’ll love it.”

“Will you have a glass of wine?”

“I... I... Yes, sure,” she stammered.

He grinned at her. “Aw,” he said softly. “You’re nervous.”

She glanced around. The house was so nice. It wasn’t in any way fussy, but the walls, woodwork, cabinetry, window coverings and furniture were classy and well cared for. There was, of course, a big-screen TV mounted on the wall in the family room and a U-shaped sectional facing it. It was, in a way, masculine, so she wondered about his wife and wanted to see the kitchen. Clearly the dining room would be the poker table, since that’s where the cards and chips were.

“Lauren!” Father Tim called, coming to her at once to greet her with a hug. He wore jeans and a sweater. An emerald-green sweater that brought out that green in his eyes. “I’m so glad to see you! Beau mentioned that it’s been a while since you played poker so I took the liberty of writing out a little cheat sheet for you.” He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket.

“Ah, wait a sec,” the young man who must be Drew said. “You’d better let me check that...”

“You suggest I would mislead her? An innocent like Lauren?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you. Hi,” he said, sticking out his hand. “I’m Drew. And this is Darla. I’m really glad you could make it. My dad’s mentioned you now and then for months, obviously trying to pretend he’s not dating anyone...”

“Actually, I don’t think he’s dating me. We’ve just met at the pub down the street a couple of times. Back in the day, that wasn’t quite a date,” she said.

“It qualifies,” Drew said. “Let me check that cheat sheet.” He grinned at her and pulled it from her hand. “Hm. Looks correct, but don’t take his advice, okay? He’ll do anything to win. He doesn’t exactly cheat, but he wrangles.”

“I’m offended,” Tim said. “First of all, it’s poker. Second, I’m not on the clock right now. I play by the same rules you reprobates play by.” He turned his attention to Lauren. “You’re looking wonderful. I haven’t seen you in a while, but it looks like you’ve been well and happy.”

Her whole demeanor softened. There was nothing like a handsome priest and an attentive suitor to put her in the best possible mood. “I’ve been very well, thank you, Father.”

He leaned toward her and whispered. “Tim is fine, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“Yes, thanks. Tim.”

“Good. I want you to be at ease while I clean your clock at poker.”

“Is this some kind of grudge match?” she asked.

“It’s poker,” three male voices said at once.

“Oh boy,” she said. “I’m going to have to pay attention.”

They had their drinks and loaded up their plates with what Beau had referred to as poker food—nachos, a veggie platter with dip, lettuce wraps stuffed with chicken salad, vinegar chips. Lauren’s stuffed mushrooms and cheese ball fit right in. They sat at the table, visiting and eating, for about twenty minutes and then Beau explained the game to Lauren. “We play for chips,” he said. “The white are a penny, the blue are a nickel, red are twenty-five cents, purple are fifty cents, black are a dollar. We’ll front you for your first time and if you don’t want to bet...”