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  Unless she wanted to opt for a cardboard box under the Tobin Bridge. Plenty of room at the inn there.

  She could move in with Mack, of course, but living with him—

  Well, it wasn’t entirely out of the question, but the thought of watching him parade in and out with the hussy of the week didn’t sound appealing. He was her friend, and he had a great pool, and a great body and a lot of other great qualities, but his taste in evening companions…

  Not so great. And that, Alex knew, would get on her nerves in five seconds.

  Not to mention Mack was, well, Mack. Her best friend. Living with him twenty-four/seven could do the one thing she had studiously avoided all these years: hurt their friendship. She’d sooner choose the cardboard box than mess up the symbiosis between them.

  As for relatives, the pickings were even leaner. She’d never known her father, and her mother had died when she was five.

  Alex had been born when her mother was seventeen, and even though Josie Kenner had tried, she’d never been much of a mother. She’d gotten pregnant too young, and been nothing more than a kid raising a kid. Forgetting that she couldn’t keep on partying and staying up late, with a toddler in tow.

  It wasn’t until Alex went to live with her grandmother that she had any kind of normalcy. A schedule. Someone there to cook her meals, give her cookies, read her books.

  Show her what a home could really be.

  Alex had a few aunts, uncles and cousins scattered around the country, and one odd cousin, Phoebe, living in Newton, in a basement apartment. Phoebe, however, kept a triple-thick layer of heavy-duty foil on her windows, because she’d watched War of the Worlds one too many times.

  Either way, Alex had no intention of staying in Edward’s apartment, even if it meant moving to a Motel 6. At least someone there would leave a light on for her.

  Twenty minutes later, Alex had most of her possessions packed. Seeing how little of her life had been joined to Edward’s made it clear he’d never really made room for her. Not in this apartment, not in his heart. The furniture was his. The pots and pans. The electronics.

  But the ties were gone. The tie tacks now in the back of Bob the Builder’s cement truck. Alex chuckled. “Yes we can make Edward a little miserable, too.” She locked the door and left with the last box.

  All Alex took with her were some books, CDs, clothes, her laptop. Pretty symbolic of her life, actually. Thus far, she hadn’t settled down long enough to accumulate anything.

  She’d told Mack yesterday that she wanted to have a normal life, to get off this revolving wheel of bad decisions. Maybe even get married, make a life with someone else.

  To do that she’d need to at least buy a sofa. And for a sofa, she’d need a home.

  A little after four, Alex gave up the search for an apartment and drove to Merry Manor for her weekly visit with Grandma Kenner. Her grandmother had lived here for nearly five years, a choice she’d made after selling her house in Dorchester shortly after the last of her old neighborhood friends moved away. Grandma had said she wanted a place that offered something to do, and someone to do those things with. The place was bright and airy, and offered the full continuum of care, which gave Alex peace of mind that her grandmother would be okay, should anything happen.

  Grandma was pretty much all the family Alex had, and making sure Grandma, who was now in her eighties, was safe and healthy, topped Alex’s priority list.

  On the grounds of Merry Manor, Grandma’s familiar red kerchief and bright pink sweater stood out like a poppy in a field of lilies. Alex caught up to her—Grandma Kenner walked several miles every day and moved surprisingly fast for a woman her age. “Hi, Grandma.”

  “Alex!” She drew her granddaughter into a White Linen–scented tight hug. “How’s my favorite granddaughter?”

  Alex laughed. “I’m your only granddaughter.”

  “Well, if I had others, you’d still be my favorite.”

  They fell into step together, strolling along the azalea and other flowering shrubbery that decorated the path. A number of other elderly people walked along it, too, or wheeled along in wheelchairs. Some had help, others moved along unassisted. Nursing staff dotted the landscape, keeping a careful watch on the residents.

  “How are you?” Grandma asked. “Planning a wedding yet? You know I have that new dress from Macy’s and all I need is a party to wear it to.”

  “Edward and I broke up,” Alex said. Every time she said the words, they got easier, and surprisingly less painful. Maybe she hadn’t cared as much about him as she’d thought. She told her grandmother about Edward’s wife on the side and her newly homeless status.

  “Should I have him killed for you?” Grandma asked. “There’s a guy in here, ex-CIA, he knows people.”

  Alex laughed. “No, Grandma, but thanks for offering.”

  “The guy should at least be maimed. Tortured a little. Any man who hurts my Alex deserves a painful ending.”

  “Don’t you think you’re a little biased when it comes to me?”

  “Just a little.” Grandma wrapped an arm around Alex and gave her a soft kiss on her hair. Alex leaned into the touch, holding tight for one long second. Comfort, warmth. Familiarity. She found them all in that embrace, and always had.

  “If I could find a place to live I’d be fine,” Alex said when she pulled back and resumed their walk.

  “I’d let you live here with me, but it’s a seventy-five-and-over community. You’re too pretty to pass for a senior citizen.”

  “Ah, a bright side. I could use one of those. So far, all the available places I’ve found come with Chuck E. Cheese’s cousins for roommates.” Alex sighed. “Or, they’re so overpriced, it’s ridiculous. I either need to get into a new field or get a raise because fashion reporters don’t make crap for money. Working toward your dream job is highly overrated.”

  Fashion reporting was not her dream—feature writing was. Alex had yet to earn a spot on those coveted front pages, but she had taken every assignment she could that would get her closer to that goal. Someday, someday soon, she’d be there.

  All she needed was that one piece, the golden ticket that would get her editor to sit up and take notice, to realize Alex had the chops to do more than write Top Ten Tips for Kissable Lips.

  And Willow Clark was that ticket. She knew it.

  Except she had to find Willow Clark. And get the biggest hermit since Harper Lee to agree to an interview.

  “You know…there is one place where you could live,” her grandmother said slowly.

  “You know something available?”

  Grandma nodded. “A house. It, uh, needs some work.”

  “A house?” Alex thought about that for a minute. Homes were the kind of permanence she’d never invested in. The kind of putting down roots she had studiously avoided all these years. But where had that gotten her so far?

  Alone, and regretting one incredibly stupid relationship after another.

  Maybe taking a different path would yield a different result. It certainly couldn’t get any worse than the near slide down Bigamy Boulevard.

  “Carolyn!” called Betty Andrews, one of Grandma Kenner’s next-door neighbors. She came toddling over to them, pushing a walker that squeaked a little as it rolled along the cement path. Her oversized floral dress swung like a bell around her. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Here she comes again,” Grandma muttered under her breath. “The Grim Reaper’s Happy Helper.”

  Alex bit back a laugh.

  “Have you had your cholesterol checked today?” Betty asked. “Mine is nearly two hundred. Why, I could have a heart attack this minute. Die right in front of you. And have I told you about my gall bladder? I have a mass, Carolyn. A mass. Doctor thinks it might be cancer.”

  “Did he say the word cancer?”

  “Well, not in so many words, but something’s in there, and that something, it could be cancer.” Betty leaned in, her light blue eyes wide. “I’m looking a
t a one-way ticket to the amusement park in the sky. Any day now, kaput! I hope you have your affairs in order, Carolyn, because it could happen to you, too. In fact, we’re all meeting tonight in the recreation room to have a writing-your-will party.”

  “A party. To write wills.” Grandma shook her head. “Doesn’t sound festive.”

  “It’ll be fun. We’ll have chips and dip. Margie’s bringing hummus and Dave is making his walnut brownies. You really should come. You can never start preparing for the afterlife too early.” Betty wagged a finger and gave Grandma a look of dire warning before spinning her walker around and wheeling away.

  Grandma let out a sigh. “These people drive me crazy.”

  “What people?”

  “The doom-and-gloomers. Can’t escape ’em around here. It’s like the cloud over the Addams Family house is always after me, except here it’s got a power wheelchair. Which is exactly why,” Grandma began, turning toward Alex, “I want you to move into that house. Fix it up, get it ready, and then…I can, uh, follow.”

  “I thought you liked it here.”

  Grandma put a hand on her hip. “Alexandra, do you think this place is me? I’ve tried to fit in, tried my best, but it’s depressing. All these people talk about is aches and pains in their hips and joints, and next thing you know, I feel like I’m falling apart, too. Not to mention, the staff runs this operation like a military academy.”

  Alex chuckled. “You’re exaggerating.”

  “Well, maybe, but I really don’t like living by other people’s rules.” Grandma stopped by a maple tree and turned to face her granddaughter. “I’m an old woman, and I may need some help in my later years, but I don’t want to spend those years being told when to eat my meatloaf and what time to play canasta. I may joke about life around here, but there are many days the schedule feels a hell of a lot like prison. Only we’re sitting on death row.”

  Alex’s heart clenched. Grandma Kenner was eighty-one. She’d lived such a long life. Who knew how much longer she had? And if she wanted to live somewhere other than Merry Manor, then she had every right to do that.

  “So will you do this for me?” Grandma asked.

  Alex combed her memory banks for a second house but came up empty. “I thought you sold your house years ago, Grandma.”

  “I did. But I’ve sort of kept this one in reserve. A…backup plan. An escape route, really, to get me out of this joint.” She smiled. “It works for both of us. You want to move on, dear. You need something to help you do that, literally.” Her grandmother reached out and took her granddaughter’s hand in hers. Grandma’s palm was soft with age, skin paper-thin, an interstate highway of veins visible. “This little house is perfect for both of us.”

  “But, Grandma, I don’t know the first thing about fixing up houses.”

  “You can read, can’t you? Hold a hammer? Besides, like I said, the place needs hardly any work. You’ll have it done in a weekend.” Grandma waved a hand in dismissal. “Two, tops.”

  Alex shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  They reached Grandma’s condo. The building was linked, as most of the private residences were, to all the other condos and the main building in the front, and faced the grounds in the back. It had the illusion of a home, with the safety of nurses in the rear. “I think you’re exactly the right person to handle this. Plus, it’s about time you put down some roots. Roots help you get a crooked tree straightened out, and your life, darling, has become a crooked tree.” Grandma laid a hand of concern on Alex’s arm and gave her a soft smile. “I’m saying this as your grandmother, as someone who loves you. It’s time you grew up.”

  Alex laughed. “Last I checked, I was twenty-seven. That’s grown up.”

  “In numbers, yes. But dear, you have all the commitment of a fruit fly, and I mean that in the nicest way.”

  “I almost got engaged to Edward.”

  “Almost only counts in horseshoes,” Grandma pointed out. “You do know how fruit flies end up if they don’t settle down and breed, don’t you?”

  “Now who’s the doom-and-gloomer?”

  “You can’t keep flitting from banana to banana, Alex. Find another fly. A bumblebee. I don’t care, as long as you settle down, make a life, and give me some great grandkids before we’re both wearing bibs and I can only recognize them by rubbing their fuzzy heads.”

  Alex chuckled. “You’re exaggerating.”

  “Maybe. But I do it out of love. Only out of love.”

  They entered the sunflower-yellow kitchen. Bright white curtains framed the windows, and a small glass table sat beneath the window, decorated with two floral-patterned placemats. Grandma crossed to the stove, retrieved the teapot, filled it at the sink, then put it on a burner and turned on the flame. “Speaking of living alone,” Grandma said, “how’s Mack?”

  “Same as always. A total pain in the butt.”

  Grandma laughed. She put a plate of frosted cookies on the table, then slid into the opposite seat. “Maybe so, but he still knows the way to an old girl’s heart. He brought these treats by yesterday. Not only did he bring me some, he brought enough for the whole east wing. He’s got half the Merry Manor women in love with him.”

  “They fell in love over cookies?”

  Grandma winked. “At my age, you’ll take what you can get. Either way, Mack has good stock. I always did like that boy.”

  “He’s a man now, Grandma. A year older than I am.”

  Grandma waved a hand. “Decades younger than me. A mere boy in Father Time’s eyes.” Then she leaned in close and studied Alex’s face. “What about Mack?”

  Alex picked up a cookie and took a bite. “What do you mean, what about Mack?”

  “Maybe he’s your fruit fly.”

  Alex exploded in laughter. “Mack? God, no. He’s a friend. As a boyfriend, he’d be a disaster. Not that he isn’t attractive, but because he’s…”

  “He’s what?” Grandma prodded.

  “Incorrigible,” Alex said, using the word she’d called Mack earlier.

  Grandma smiled. “Sometimes those ones are the most fun.”

  Alex rolled her eyes. “Let me put it in your kind of terms, Grandma. I’m looking for a sturdy oak tree, not a wild tumbleweed. Besides, my biggest priority right now is a roof over my head, not a man.”

  “True. You probably should find the yard before you try to plant a tree in the lawn.” The teakettle whistled and Grandma rose to turn it off, then she filled two mugs with hot water and cinnamon-apple teabags. She returned to the table and slid a mug toward Alex. “That house is the perfect solution all around. A place to live, a new start, and plenty of hard work to get that dreadful Edward out of your system.”

  Alex cast a glance out the window. Clouds marched across the sun, obscuring it for one long second, then moving to allow light over the earth again, like a symbol of Alex’s days ahead—sunshine on the horizon. Wasn’t that exactly what she’d decided she wanted? Something more permanent? A place to put a sofa? She took in a deep breath, and with it a new sense of resolve. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  “Wonderful! This could be just the thing to shake up your life,” Grandma said. “Change things. Put you on a new path. I think you’ll see, Alex, dear, that life throws you a few curves, and if you take them, you might be surprised at what you find waiting for you around the corner.”

  An hour later, Alex sat in her Honda and stared at the set of keys Grandma had given her. One of these unlocked the front door to a new beginning. Her first step toward something forever.

  A home.

  Alex’s heart beat faster and her throat constricted. She’d avoided permanence for so long, sidestepping the strictures of a mortgage because tying herself to anyone or anything meant—

  They might let her down.

  Like her parents had. Like Edward had.

  But this time, the power lay in her own hands, literally. She could choose to change her destiny, to paint and carpet her way to the perfect picture she
’d always wanted.

  Alex inhaled, drawing in the scent of the ocean through her open window with the breath. The clean air burst in her lungs along with a song of hope. Of newness.

  She ran her thumb over the main house key. Could this slim piece of metal be a way of turning a mess into something resembling a life? Could she really straighten out a lifetime of bad decisions by putting down roots?

  She leaned back, closed her eyes and let her mind wander down familiar paths. When Alex had been little, she’d spent so many nights picturing a Utopia, the ideal world she desperately wanted—and she imagined what it would be like to exist out there, somewhere. Now, that world—or at least the beginnings of it—was within her grasp.

  As her mind drew the images, she could almost see them, hear them, touch them. A flower-lined walkway, filled with pink impatiens and white geraniums, waving their happy faces. A golden retriever waiting by the door—tongue lolling, massive paws planting an oversized puppy hug on her chest. Rooms filled with overstuffed furniture calling out to visitors to sit a while, surrounding them with comfort that fit like a hug. Cabinets overflowing with every kind of food from chicken noodle soup to chicken and broccoli rice. And most of all, warm light bathing every surface, casting its golden glow over the wood, the carpets, kissing the house like Midas himself.

  Making it home.

  Alex’s hand closed over the keys. She could do this. Tackle a little spackle.

  After all, how hard could it be?

  Chapter Three

  “Do you want the bad news…or the bad news?” Mack asked, shielding his eyes against the sun.

  Alex stood beside Mack on the lawn in front of her new potential residence, the late-June heat beating down on them. She’d been here for ten minutes, and couldn’t shake the feeling that this house looked familiar. Something about the slope of the roof—what was left of it, anyway—the curve of the driveway, if she could call the smattering of gravel and tar a driveway…the short, clumpy expanse of dried yellow lawn…It all struck a chord of memory, one that flitted away before Alex could capture it.