Back to the New House, which had an air of abandonment about it, even if Mrs. J. still vacuumed twice a week religiously.

So if it was hers, it was time to make it truly so. After checking with Dad, Honor told her siblings to come over and raid whatever their father and Mrs. J. didn’t want. Ned had an apartment in the Opera House apartment building where Faith and Levi used to live, so he took a good bit of furniture, and Abby claimed a few things for the future, as she’d be headed off to college next year. Pru and Carl had finished the basement and took a queen-size bed for reasons best kept (but not actually kept) private.

Then Honor broke out the paint, starting with her bedroom. What had once been pale blue became fire-engine red. Her sedate quilt was replaced with a fluffy white comforter that looked like a cloud, and an array of various-size pillows, which were instantly claimed by Spike. Had a chair reupholstered in big blue polka dots and put it by the window overlooking the big maple. A fluffy white rug, a dark mahogany cedar chest and, best of all, a mobile she found at the gift shop in town—little paper birds in a riot of color. She went to the used book store and bought two shopping bags full of romance Books and horror stories and fully intended to read them all.

No longer was this the bedroom of a spinster workaholic. This was the room of a woman who was, finally, comfortable with herself. Who could relax. Who appreciated some creature comforts. Who wouldn’t mind shagging in that big mahogany bed.

The thought of shagging someone other than Tom, however, held no appeal.

But things would change. She wouldn’t be alone forever.

Just for now. For a little while, and then she’d register on those dating websites again and find someone nice. Or she’d check out the sperm bank again. Or call an adoption agency. She wouldn’t mind an older kid, even someone with an attitude. If she could win over Charlie, she could probably win over anyone.

Except for Tom, that was.

The eggs remained silent.

It was May, the month of apple blossoms and lilacs, and tourism season was perking up. The seaplane show on Keuka was coming, and there’d be a tasting on the green that weekend, too. Dad and Mrs. Johnson’s wedding was next weekend, and after that, Honor had a sales trip to the city planned. In the meantime, tour buses pulled into Blue Heron’s lot daily, and Honor and Ned led two tours a day each. Every time they came to the cask room, her heart would thud.

And though she tried so hard to be practical, she missed Tom so much she ached. Missed his crooked smile, his sudden laugh, his mouth, his soft gray eyes, his endless patience with Charlie, even the way he called Spike Ratty. She missed his accent, the way he called her darling, missed his big hands and irreverent sense of humor. Missed sleeping with him, not just for the sex (though yes, there was definitely that). But she also missed the sound of his breathing, the warmth of his skin, the way it felt to wake up with his heavy arm around her, the slight crinkling of his eyes when he was about to make a joke. Spike’s little snores and propensity for hogging the pillow just weren’t enough anymore.

Charlie was gone. Abby said she’d gotten a text saying goodbye. That was all.

On the fifteenth night of staying home, Honor was climbing the walls. Should she reorganize the bookcases in the living room? Cook? Bake? Eat? Watch Plastic Surgeries Gone Wrong, which was having a marathon tonight?

What would Mom advise?

These past weeks, when her heart felt bruised and weak, Honor missed her mother almost unbearably. Mom would’ve been brisk and sympathetic both, finding things for Honor to do, kicking Dad out of the room and sitting down with some pithy words of wisdom. She summoned her mom’s memory as best she could, the smooth curve of her neck, the smell of her hair, her pretty, capable hands.

“What should I do, Mom?” she asked her mother’s picture.

Get out and let the wind blow the stink off. It was one of her mom’s favorite sayings, and the woman had a point.

Time to go to O’Rourke’s. No more catfight talk; now she could answer the question of What happened, honey? with the line she had prepared—We just weren’t suited for each other in the end.

Right up there in truthfulness with I’m too busy for a relationship right now.

Because Tom had felt pretty perfect to her. Not every day, no, and not at first. But now, she couldn’t imagine loving someone as much as she loved Tom Barlow. She’d loved Brogan for years, sure, but that had been a childish love, one-sided and unrealistic. She’d idolized Brogan.

Tom, she knew. Flaws and qualities both. He was real. He was home, he was hers.

Or he had been. Almost.

Great. She was crying. With a sigh, she wiped her eyes and gave herself a mental slap.

“Spike, I’m leaving. If you eat my shoes, it will come out of your allowance, okay? Love you, sweetie.” Spike wagged, then leaped up on the couch and burrowed under the throw pillow, her tiny head sticking out as if begging to be the cover shot on a calendar of Ridiculously Cute Dogs. Honor kissed her, scratched her little bitty chin and headed into town.

She opened the door to O’Rourke’s, and there he was.

He was sitting at the bar, talking to Colleen, and he was smiling, though his eyes were somber. Didn’t anyone else see that, how sad his eyes could be, even when he was smiling? Didn’t they see that he was lonely? That his heart had been yanked out of his chest when Charlie moved?

Then he looked up and saw her, and his smile dropped a notch. She gave a small wave, and he nodded back.

The bar was noisy tonight, and Honor was grateful. The Yankees game was on and apparently was a good one, judging from the cheers from the patrons on that side of the bar. In addition, the fire department was having one of its famous meetings, which seemed to involve such grave activities as Jessica Dunn flipping quarters off her elbow. Brogan wasn’t there, at least, though she’d seen his car at the firehouse the other day. Gerard Chartier whispered into Jessica’s ear, and she rolled her eyes and slapped him fondly on the head before waving to Honor. Now there was a woman who didn’t mind being single. See? It could be done.

Welp. Time to say hello to her ex-fiancé.

She took a breath and went over, her heart stuttering. “Hi, Tom.”

“Hallo, Honor.”

Oh, fungus. Would she ever get over the way he said her name, his voice low and rich as hot fudge? Probably not, the eggs said, rubbing Ben-Gay into their knees.

“How are you?” she asked, and by some grace, her voice was steady.

“Quite well. And yourself?”

“Just fine, thanks.”

How’s Charlie? Have you heard from him? How’s your dad? Are you staying in town? Please don’t move without saying goodbye. I think about you all the time.

“It’s good to see you,” she said, and this time her voice was husky.

This was a mistake. She shouldn’t have come, because it seemed like she was about to cry.

“Hey, Honor.”

She jerked her eyes off Tom to see who was speaking. “Oh, Dana. Hi.”

Dana glanced between her and Tom. “Um, want to have a drink?”

Honor waited...for what, she wasn’t sure. For Tom to say, Actually, darling, I want to talk to you, and then tell her he’d made a horrible mistake.

“Good night, then,” he said, turning back to his beer. “Take care, Honor.” Maybe there was something in his voice, too, but his eyes were on the Yankees game.

“You, too.” She followed Dana to a table and sat down with her back to Tom.

“I heard you guys broke up,” Dana said, sitting down across from her.

“Yes.”

“I’m really sorry.”

The words sounded sincere. “Thank you.”

Hannah O’Rourke brought over a martini. “On the house,” she said, “courtesy of the owners of our fine establishment.”

“Thanks, Hannah.” Honor turned back to Dana. “So how are you? Um, Brogan and I talked a couple weeks ago.” Brogan had emailed her a couple of times since the dreadful kiss, apologizing profusely, telling her about his confusion over Dana, yadda yadda.

He was a good guy. But Honor was a little tired of him these days.

“I guess everyone knows,” Dana said tightly. “I faked being pregnant.”

“So he said.”

“Aren’t you gonna ask why?”

“Why?”

Dana sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Sure you do.”

Her perfectly waxed eyebrows rose. “Yeah, okay, so I do.” She shrugged and took a sip of her white zinfandel (the very thought of which made Honor shudder). “Here’s the thing, Honor,” she said. “Men want what they want.”

“Do they want women to lie about being pregnant?”

“Okay, fine, I guess I deserve a little bitchiness from you. Brogan and I are still apart. Probably forever. As you probably know.” She shrugged, the misery on her face belying her tone. “Maybe you have a chance with him, after all.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Why? Isn’t that why you and Tom broke up?”

“No.” She didn’t want to talk about Tom with Dana, that was for sure. “Did you ever love Brogan, or was this just...whimsy?”

Dana looked at the table. “I loved him. Who wouldn’t?”

“Then why did you lie to him?” Dana shrugged, and all of a sudden, Honor was tired. “How about if I tell you what I think, hmm? From my point of view, there’s only one reason why a woman would pretend to be pregnant, and that’s because she wasn’t sure the guy would stay with her otherwise.”

A tear slid off Dana’s face onto the table. “You’re right. Congratulations. As usual, Honor, you know everything.”

“What do you want, Dana?”

Dana’s face crumpled. “It was so stupid,” she whispered, still not looking up. “You ever feel...I don’t know. Like you’re on the outside, looking in?”

“Everyone feels like that sometimes.”

“Well, me, too. Ever since I met you, you and Brogan were a thing. You had a special relationship, and he was so awesome and all that. And you had this big fun family, and such a cool job. And I was jealous. I mean, there it is. I was.” She swallowed. “And I really did like him. I always did. But I wasn’t about to make a move when you guys were together, even if it was kind of a fucked-up relationship.”

“Gosh. Thanks.”

“But then you broke up, and you were done with him. So yeah, I made a move. I mean, single men don’t exactly grow on trees around here. And imagine my surprise when it seemed to work.” Another tear plopped onto the table. “Men like to sleep with me, Honor. But men love you.”

Honor snorted.

“Look at Tom. Right? He comes to town and boom. He falls for you.”

“It’s not exactly working out for us,” she murmured.

“Whatever. There’s not a guy here who doesn’t respect you and like you and think you’re smart. That doesn’t happen with me. Brogan was one of the few who seemed to want more than sex. But you’re right. I was afraid that the more time he spent with me, the less he’d like me, because that seems to be the way it goes. So I made up a baby, figured I’d get pregnant fast. I didn’t think beyond that.”

“I thought you didn’t want kids.”

“With him I did. Never thought I’d say those words.” She wiped her eyes discreetly.

All of a sudden, Honor wanted to be truly done. For way too long, Brogan had been a huge part of her life, bigger than even he knew. And for the past few months, Dana had been, too.

It was time to end that.

“Listen, Dana,” she said. “It was the wrong move, obviously. So own it, take responsibility for it and see where that gets you. I think Brogan really loves you. I don’t know why, but he seems to. If you tell him what you just told me, I think you might have a shot.”

Dana looked up, her green eyes watery. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna go now, okay? Top Ten Tumors is on.”

Dana gave a snort of laughter, then grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry, Honor. I really am.”

“It’s really okay. Don’t think about it anymore. And good luck with Brogan.”

Strange, that she meant it.

“Honor?” Dana said. “Listen...I called Immigration on you. A while ago. I just wondered if you were marrying Tom because of a green card thing, and...well. I hope it didn’t screw things up.”

Ah. Mystery solved. “No. It wasn’t that.”

As she fished her keys out of her purse, she looked over to where Tom had been, but he was gone.

* * *

ON SATURDAY, HONOR decided to take a bike ride, because that’s what people who had weekends did.

May was so beautiful, the fruit trees blossoming in the small orchard the family still kept. There was Goggy, hanging out wash, waving as Honor rode past the Old House. Tomorrow, hopefully, she’d sneak some crap to the dump—Pops’s newspaper horde was taking on terrifying proportion, but that was tomorrow. Today was all about exercise and fresh air.

“We will be cheerful,” she told Spike, who was nestled in the handlebar basket on a fleece blanket. “We are cheerful people, Ratty.” Spike yipped in agreement. She loved bike rides.

Dogwood and crabapple trees were in full glory as she pedaled up Lake View Road to where the hill flattened out. She passed Bobby McIntosh mowing his lawn, and the smell of cut grass made her smile. Life was good. It wasn’t entirely complete, but it was a happy life. This beautiful town, the job she loved, her family, her faithful little doggy...it was enough. For now, it was enough. More would come in its own time.