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  “Maybe if we did this more often I could really get in shape fast,” I said.

  “Fine with me,” Patrick said. “I’m just so glad you’re happier. It’s great to see your spunk back.”

  “What? I have always been spunky. What are you talking about?” I was quickly losing the afterglow.

  “You’ve been sort of . . . what the boys call a ‘Debbie Downer,’ actually, but it’s okay. You just needed to figure out what would make you feel more fulfilled, more joyful. And you’ve found it! You’re back in touch with friends, you’ve started a business, you’re getting in shape. All of this provides me with guilt-free golf, by the way.”

  He gave me the smile that said he was trying to extract his foot from his mouth: the one that said I love you and even though this came out in a bad way, I support you 100 percent.

  I couldn’t be mad. His hair was messed up—I loved that—and we’d just had great sex.

  “You’re right. I guess I had to hit my own midlife-crisis bottom. Maybe crying at the dentist’s office was the last straw.”

  “There are worse midlife crisis scenarios.”

  “Yes, well, what is yours going to be?” I asked, realizing I hadn’t thought about that. What if he had an affair, bought a motorcycle, or …

  The doorbell rang.

  “I thought the Johnson Home Counseling Center was closed for the night,” Patrick said as I jumped out of bed and raced to the closet for jeans and a tee shirt. I most certainly wasn’t getting back into my sweaty TV appearance clothes.

  “I thought so, too. Get dressed, please; I’m not going down alone!” I said, and he hopped to it. Good man.

  OREO WASN’T GROWLING, JUST BARKING, SO HE KNEW whoever it was at the door. He was right. It was Charlotte.

  I couldn’t tell if she was mad or sad. She looked like she was in shock because her mouth was doing strange things: trying to form words, but none were coming out. I looked behind her and saw that she had left the twins in the car. Jeez.

  “Charlotte, come on in. Patrick, take Charlotte to the living room while I go get the girls out of the car,” I said, and patted Charlotte on the shoulder as she stood, not saying anything. Just moving those lips.

  It was dark outside, but the light of the car popped on when I opened the back door on the passenger side. “Girls! Come on in! You know where the toys are upstairs, and Oreo will be so glad to see you.” They both popped off their seat belts and bolted out the door I held open, wrapped their little arms around me, and held tight. They were crying.

  “There, there,” I said. What in the world was wrong?

  And then, I knew. Before Alexandra said it, or maybe at the same time.

  “My daddy got dead on his motorcycle,” she said, and then sobbed.

  “Mommy and Daddy didn’t live together anymore, but Mommy still loved Daddy,” Abigail said.

  “Oh, yes, I know they did. And your daddy loved you too. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to go inside and all sit down together in my house, okay? Oreo wants to hug you both. Come on,” I said, walking them up the walkway and into the house.

  They ran to their mom, who was sitting on the couch in the living room. I went to find Patrick. He was in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of scotch on the rocks.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I see it all the time in the movies,” he said. “I think the taste snaps ’em out of it. Charlotte’s in shock, Kelly. Don’t know how she drove over here. She just mumbled that Jim’s parents called to tell her he was dead. Died on the damn motorcycle and that they would handle arrangements. They were so crass as to say they hoped she was happy now.”

  “Nice. Blame her for this. This is so horrible. Aside from a stiff drink, any other ideas? And what do I do with the girls?”

  “Rent them a happy-ending movie on TV; we have that pay-per-view thing. That could help. Put them in Sean’s room, with the twin beds. Maybe they’ll fall asleep. It’s after eleven already.”

  “You’re a regular Dr. Oz tonight. First diagnosing me, now curing shock. I’m impressed,” I said, as we walked into the living room and looked at Charlotte and her daughters, who all seemed incredibly small and impossibly lost.

  “Alex and Abby, let’s see if we can find a movie for you to watch. Does that sound good? How about some hot chocolate?” Coercing children was one of my specialties.

  “With marshmallows?” Alex asked.

  “Of course. Extra.”

  “What about Mommy?” Abigail asked.

  We all watched as Charlotte took a big gulp of Johnny Walker Red and coughed, but kept it down.

  “It’s okay, girls, go on up. I need some grown-up talk right now,” Charlotte said. Patrick was right, that scotch shot did the trick.

  “Uncle Patrick will take you up, and he’s an expert popcorn and hot chocolate maker,” I said.

  “Indeed,” Patrick said. They went upstairs.

  “Charlotte, I’m so sorry,” I said, wrapping my arm around her thin shoulder. I think she’d shrunk in the last couple of weeks. Stress does that to her, and of course, she’d been having some new-relationship, soul-mate sex too.

  I wondered what would happen now? She’d need to be cared for, watched, like Melanie. Bruce will have two on his hands, I thought.

  “Where is Bruce?” I asked, perhaps a bit loudly, because she jumped.

  “He’s, he’s at a concert they’re producing in New York. He’s taking the first flight home in the morning. He’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s good.” So much for Mr. Majors not traveling, staying home to take care of Mel. “What can I do for you? And the girls?”

  “Can we stay here? I can’t . . . I can’t go home,” she said, and started to cry. At least she sounded like she was crying, but no tears were falling. Maybe she’d used them all up and they hadn’t replenished? Does that happen? I’d need to Google that.

  “Of course, as long as you need to,” I said, thinking she could have Mel’s room. After all, they were about to be family.

  “I can’t go home, it has too many Jim memories. Even though he moved out, it’s still ours. It’s us, when we were happier,” she said.

  I wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, went and got us each a bottle of water, refilled her scotch glass, grabbed a tissue box, and let her talk until 2:00 am. She fell asleep on the couch, and I headed upstairs, my heart heavy with the sadness of a life lost, girls without a dad, the twists of fate, and how, really, you can’t take anything for granted.

  I jolted awake at ten, totally disoriented and reliving the remnants of a bad dream. I had been shot in a corridor of a hospital, trying to stop someone from entering someone’s room. My right shoulder actually ached, as if I really had been shot. How was that possible?

  I grabbed my robe and headed to Sean’s room. No girls. Panicked, I rushed downstairs to find Patrick, a twin under each arm and Oreo on his lap, watching The Incredibles. He really was wonderful. I was able to make it to the coffee pot and out the door toward the living room without any of them hearing me, including my dog.

  Charlotte was still asleep on the couch. I quietly gathered up the empty scotch tumbler and water bottles. I covered her up a little better, and pulled the living room drapes closed. Maybe she’d sleep awhile longer. Dreaming had to be better than being awake right now.

  With everything under control—as much as it could be—I decided it was time to call Donna, Kathryn’s assistant, on Melanie’s cell phone. Using Mel’s made it more likely she’d pick up. I just had to get up the nerve to go back into Mel’s room, a place I hadn’t been since the suicide attempt.

  So I took a shower to give me time to build up courage. It helped the courage a little and my gunshot shoulder a lot. I needed to hurry, though, as The Incredibles couldn’t keep the twins occupied forever.

  My heart thumping, I walked into our guest room. Amazing how quickly a life can be lost, I thought. What if I hadn’t come home in time? I won
dered if Jim would still be alive if anyone had been looking after him, noticing he wasn’t home.

  Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, I repeated to myself as I grabbed the cell phone and hurried out of the room. Luckily, Mel had left it charged. She had twenty-two missed messages. I wondered how many were from Gavin. Great kid. I didn’t know if my sons would be able to show that level of love, patience, and commitment at that age. I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t think I wanted them to need to be that responsible that young.

  Donna Without-a-Last-Name was in the contacts as promised, so I pushed send. Sure enough, Donna answered.

  “Mel? How are you?” she said. Her voice was warm and friendly.

  “Hi Donna, this is a friend of Kathryn’s and Melanie’s, and I’m calling because I need to get in touch with Kathryn. I thought you might have the name of the ranch where she is staying in Montana.” I blurted it out in one long rush of words.

  “Is Melanie alright? Why are you using her cell?” Smart cookie.

  “She is. Her mom dropped her off to stay with me when she went to Montana.”

  “Oh, you’re her nutty friend Kelly,” Donna said. “I mean, she thinks you’re great, tells me how funny you are.”

  Ha, ha. “Do you know the name of the ranch? I’ve tried her cell, her work number. Hey, that reminds me, I asked for you but got HR,” I said.

  “Oh, you don’t know?”

  “What?”

  “Kathryn and I were both downsized. It was incredible. She’d spent her life at that company, made them half their money, if you ask me,” Donna said. “And not so much as a thank you. Just a big meeting where they pulled us all into a room together and told us. Kathryn was the only senior executive, and they treated her the same as the stupid new assistant. It was awful. That’s why I forced her to go to Montana. I mean, what else did she have to do? They only gave us an hour to clean out her office that day. She didn’t tell you?”

  “No, not a word. She did say she was going to Montana to get healthy, figure some things out.”

  “Hopefully, she is. I feel so bad for her. She’s gotta dump that husband of hers, get her daughter eating, and start a great new business. I told her I’d work for her. She’s amazing. Oh, the ranch is called Sunset Wolf Ranch, near a town called Kalispell. I know they do have a phone. Hold on and I’ll go get the number.”

  I’d just hung up with Donna, after promising I would have Kathryn call when she started her new business, when Patrick called for me. The movie was over, Charlotte was up, and it was time for me to help.

  “Coming,” I yelled, grabbing the ranch phone number and shoving it into my pocket. I tossed Mel’s cell onto the bed in her room and headed downstairs.

  Charlotte was sitting at the kitchen table. Patrick and the twins were making pancakes—all over the kitchen. It would have been really cute if the situation hadn’t been so sad.

  “Need some coffee?” I asked Charlotte. “I’m pouring a cup of Patrick’s tar for myself.”

  “Very funny,” Patrick said.

  “No thanks,” Charlotte said.

  This was going to be a long morning. I wondered when Bruce landed. I wondered what he would do? Could they close on Bob’s house earlier and move right in? That’s what I would do, I guess. But you just never know what you would do until you’re in someone else’s shoes. That must be something my mom said, too. Go, Mom.

  I sat down at the table next to Charlotte and suddenly had the urge to start finalizing my website. Stop it, I told myself. My business was not important compared to Charlotte’s tragedy. I guess since Charlotte was sitting in what had become the desk chair of my office she was triggering my working girl itch. No.

  “The pancakes smell great, you guys,” I said, focusing my mind on food.

  “Mommy, Mickey Mouse or a flower?” asked Alex.

  “Neither. I’m not hungry right now,” Charlotte said.

  “You aren’t ever hungry, Mommy,” Abigail said. “Aunt Kelly?”

  “Mickey for me; he’s my favorite shaped pancake,” I answered smiling at the girls, “You should bring your mom a flower. She needs it.”

  “Okay. Hey, Aunt Kelly, we figured out what to sing for Daddy at his funeral,” Alex said, which brought tears to my eyes. “We are going to sing ‘Happiness Runs.’ Do you know it? Daddy loved it.”

  Then they sang in unison: “Happiness runs in a circular motion / Love is like a little fish upon the sea / Everybody is a part of everything anyway / You can be happy if you let yourself be!”

  The three adults clapped, and Charlotte and I wiped our eyes. Her tears must have reconstituted.

  “Go ahead and do whatever you need to do,” Charlotte said, looking at me and my laptop on the table in front of her. “Bruce will be here any minute and we’ll be out of your way.”

  “Charlotte, you are not in my way. I love you. And I need to keep reminding you that Jim’s accident was just that, an accident, and not your fault. You believe that, right?” I said quietly, holding her hand.

  “I think I do.”

  “Breakfast is served!” said Patrick as he brought our plates to us, and the girls pulled up chairs on either side of their mom.

  Bruce showed up an hour later and thanked me for “again taking care of his family.” He assured me he’d arrange his work schedule so he’d be here from now on, that “it wouldn’t happen again.” And then he whisked them away. Bruce explained that he had expedited the closing with Bob, due to the circumstances, and that Charlotte and the twins would move in today. Melanie would be released tomorrow and join them.

  I could, of course, imagine each of the girls’ rooms. I designed the house perfectly, not knowing how all of this would come to pass. Mel would have the romantic purple room, with its own bath, and the twins would each take one of the former boy residents’ rooms and share the pocket bath. Ironically, it was the perfect setup for the newly created family. I just hoped Bruce could live up to his responsibilities. He knew Patrick and I were watching now, so that was something. We were now, after all, the crisis center across the street.

  Once they were all out the door, I dialed the Sunset Wolf Ranch. And someone actually answered. A person.

  I explained the reason for my call, and I was put on hold.

  For fifteen minutes.

  I wasn’t hanging up if they weren’t hanging up.

  “Hello?” Kathryn said.

  “Oh my gosh, it’s so good to hear your voice,” I said.

  “Kelly, why are you calling? I thought you told me to unplug my phone for a couple of weeks. Is something wrong?” she asked. She sounded stoned or peaceful; whatever it was, she was the opposite of me.

  I took a deep breath. “Yes, Kathryn, something is wrong. But it’s better now. Mel is in the hospital, but she’s okay. She gets out tomorrow, actually. Since Bruce and Charlotte are moving in early, I’ll be able to keep an eye on her, even if it is from a vantage point across the street. And, really, you should’ve told me about losing your job. I would’ve helped you rant and rave about it, cry about it, something.”

  Silence.

  “Hello?” Maybe I’d said too much.

  “Bruce and Charlotte? What are you talking about?” Kathryn said.

  I felt, right then, that perhaps I had not heard correctly. “Melanie is fine. The wounds were just superficial. It was all related to the fact that Bruce told her he was moving in with Charlotte.”

  “I know about Melanie. I got your message and called Bruce. He filled me in. He left out the part about Charlotte,” she said evenly.

  Really? Really! Why didn’t these people keep me in the loop? How am I supposed to know who knows what?

  “Kathryn, I’m sorry, I thought you knew. But look, it doesn’t matter anymore. Just keep getting yourself where you need to be. All of this will be here when you get back.”

  “Nothing will be there when I get back. My child, my home, my job, my husband . . . all gone. It’s like starting all over. That’s what I’ve been
trying to come to terms with.”

  “Not exactly. Melanie isn’t going anywhere and neither am I. And one of the top things on my list—well, #5 actually—is not to forget the care and feeding of friends. And #15, especially old friends. Friends are friends forever, remember?” I said, quoting a shared favorite song. “And a friend will not say never ’cause the welcome never ends, or something like that.”

  “Though it’s hard to let you go / in the Father’s hands I know / a lifetime’s not too long to live as friends,” Kathryn said, finishing the verse from the Michael W. Smith song. “You know, it’s funny, but you were right about Bruce all along. He was so self-centered, focused only on himself and his needs. I guess that made me self-centered in my own way. I needed to show him that I could rock the business world, too. And that’s what we talked about, all the time. His production company, my climb up the retail business ladder …

  “So where did that leave Melanie?” she added rhetorically. “Without either parent fully there for her. Sure, we’d take her on business trips; she’d make a great photo op for his company Christmas cards.”

  “Oh, Kathryn, you and Mel have much more than that,” I said.

  “Well, not enough. I left too much up to the nanny, too much time zeroed in on the office. But now that’s going to change. I know I can be there, be present for her. I’m getting myself in order, back together. I just hope there’s enough time left,” she said, and sighed.

  “There is plenty of time. Mel’s never needed you more.”

  “And I’m going to be there for her. I can’t miss the few remaining counseling sessions I have coming up, for obvious reasons, but I’ll be back soon. They’ve been great here and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you in my life—holding my life together there. Here in the mountains, I’ve been learning to live in the present. I haven’t been doing that at all in my life. I’ve been too busy running to the next activity: the next business meeting, the next buying trip, the next school event, whatever. I have to remember, it is all going to work out, I’m just not sure how.”