Paul had remained the hunky professor, and even though he wasn’t the best conversationalist, often in his head figuring out something or other, he was always kind and ready to help others. He had told her they remembered them because of her. She was outgoing and curious. She didn’t believe him.

  But there it was again, the feeling of curiosity, waking her up and moving her forward into life. To defeat it, at least for now, she put the letter on her desk, made sure the phone volume was still turned off so she would not hear or see the messages that she knew had piled up, and closed the door again.

  All of it could wait until after she ate and maybe watched a movie, just like they used to do. For the past month, she had felt nothing. Now she felt hunger, pain, and dread that the letter would tell her something she didn’t want to know. She would put it off for a few more hours.

  Seven

  Bree woke to the sun streaming through the crack in the curtain she had left while looking at the mailman. She moaned, rolled, and almost fell off the couch. The TV was playing in the background. A pizza box lay open on the coffee table, one slice left with wilted vegetables and cheese strings hanging off the edges.

  She didn’t know what part of the morning was most disturbing—the fact that the sun was up, that she had fallen asleep on the couch, that the TV was on, or that last piece of pizza. Nothing had ever happened in her life when any of those events had transpired, especially all at once. But Bree decided that the last piece of pizza was the worst part. How had she eaten a whole pizza by herself and yet was still hungry?

  A few minutes later, she was in front of her bathroom mirror, staring at her image again. At least her skin wasn’t as gray, and her hazel eyes looked a little brighter and a little less red.

  Perhaps one night like that isn’t such a terrible thing, Bree thought.

  At least she felt like doing something, and that feeling had been missing for so long she had thought it had died along with Paul.

  After a shower, fresh clothes, and a cup of coffee in her hand, Bree stared at her bedroom. She hadn’t slept in that bed since Paul had started sleeping on a hospital bed they installed in his office, pushing his desk with all the papers to the side of the room.

  She had brought the cot in that they had used years before when they went on a road trip and slept there, sometimes holding his hand, hoping it would help them both sleep.

  For a few days after his death, she was her usual orderly self. Holding herself together, she had the hospital bed removed and took care of Paul’s cremation. One of Paul’s colleagues put together a gathering, and she shook the hands of some people and hugged others, barely registering what she was saying or who was standing in front of her.

  Afterward, she took the box home with her and stuffed it under the bed, unwilling to think about the fact that the man who had filled up her entire life was now nothing more than ashes. And then she returned to the cot in Paul’s office and gave up.

  Now, as she stared at the bed, everything perfect, just as she had left it before moving onto the cot, Bree wondered if she could ever sleep in it again. If by chance his scent had remained after she washed the sheets before making the bed that last time—what was she thinking when she did that—would it comfort her? She didn’t think so.

  Actually, she wasn’t even sure if she could stay in the house. Or the town. The urge to run away from life had kept her housebound and closed up these last thirty days. Now she wanted to run from this life.

  But where would she go? What would she do? When Paul had gotten sick, she told her agent she was done writing. The company that managed marketing her book sales functioned well without her, and even if all of it died away, she didn’t care. Without Paul, she knew her desire to write was over.

  What life did she want to live now? She did not know. And she still had a letter to open.

  Sighing, she crossed the hall to her office and stepped in, this time allowing herself to notice the mess. She hated mess. But the closed door had kept it out of her sight and her thoughts. Now, more cleared-sighted than she had been for months, she saw what she had left undone the day she had canceled everyone and closed her computer.

  There was dust everywhere, which became more visible when she raised the blinds and let in the sun. The clutter and dirt screamed at her, as it always did, to do something. but the loudest noise was coming from the letter, still lying on top of the papers where she had left it after ordering pizza.

  It was yelling, “Open, open, open.”

  It reminded her of the Mervyn’s Department Stores commercial in the early ’90s, where the woman stood pressed against the store window saying, “Open, open, open,” waiting to get into their super sale. Except then, it was about finding something exciting. And the letter couldn’t possibly hold anything exciting.

  Perhaps the letter contained a confession of some kind. If so, Bree didn’t want to hear it. Paul wasn’t perfect, but the one thing she had held to was he had always, always, been loyal and faithful to her. If it turned out that he hadn’t been, she was sure it would kill her, and despite how she had been living the last thirty days, she knew she didn’t want to die yet.

  Not that she knew what she wanted to do. She didn’t need money. She had enough of her own, and she knew Paul had life insurance. A lot of it. He had promised her he would take care of her forever, and that was one of the first things he had done right after they had married.

  Bree gasped at the idea. Had he known he had some disease and would leave her this way? Way back then? No, it wasn’t possible. He could never have gotten the insurance. Besides, who would know that they would get cancer? No one. Right?

  Right, she said to herself. Eventually, she had to open the letter, check her phone, and read her email—all daunting tasks. But after doing those things, maybe she would know what to do with her life.

  But first, she had to clean up the office. And the idea that she would clean it up as if she was packing everything away gave her the impetus that she needed. And since it wasn’t as bad as she first thought, given that she had always kept things orderly before Paul got sick, she finished the basics within a few hours.

  Everything was sorted—piles of papers she needed to shred and items she needed to throw away. Plus a pile of stuff that she wasn’t sure what to do about yet. The phone and the computer she left for later. She still wasn’t ready to face that much of the world.

  But now that the office was back to its normal orderly state, the letter sat by itself in the center of the curved desk that always gave her plenty of room to spread out as she worked, and then drawers to file everything away when she finished.

  It looked ridiculous sitting there. She felt stupid for being afraid of a letter covered with stickers. But she was. And she knew she needed to do one more thing before she read it. Eat. Again.

  She had stopped her hunger for a few hours drinking coffee, but now she needed food. Once again, she picked up her phone and ordered. This time her favorite Thai food. Feeling no guilt for not cooking, she walked to the kitchen, pulled everything out of her refrigerator that probably wasn’t good anymore, and threw it into the trash.

  After tipping the Door Dash driver, she took the containers of curry and rice, grabbed a soda, and stepped outside onto the deck that overlooked their small backyard.

  Thirty minutes later, after some fresh air, a little sun, and good food, she was ready to tackle the letter.

  What Bree didn’t know was her letter was not the only letter Paul had sent. She would find out later what he had been up to months before he had let her know how sick he was.

  How many trips he had taken without her, and how many plans he had made.

  If she had known that day, she might have never opened the letter because it would reveal that Paul had kept secrets from her.

  Bree might not have understood that he had done it for what he considered the best reason of all. Because she was the love of his life, and he knew he was leaving her.

  That day in the hall, after watching her watch him, seeing her friends turn and stare, Paul knew the life he had planned, the life he had known, was over, and he had begun planning a new one. Of course, even though he was full of trepidation, it had never occurred to him it would not last forever.

  Eight

  She had brought the mail in last night but hadn’t had time to sort it. Now, standing at the kitchen counter, Cindy stared at the letter in her hand, the return address showing a name she hadn’t seen for so many years: Paul Stanford Mann.

  Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had seen his name on the Internet. They even friended each other, and she wished him and Bree happy birthday every time their birthdays came around. Even though they never responded, she did it anyway.

  Just thinking about Bree made Cindy want to cry. Best friends for years, and then, nothing. The girl who had hidden in the cloakroom and then reached out to another frightened child had disappeared. And after all these years, Cindy still didn’t know why.

  One day, Paul and Bree were a huge part of all their lives, and then they weren’t. It was as if she, their friends, and the town, never existed for Bree and Paul. They moved, never came back, contacted no one, and became invisible.

  Years later, social media came along, and one day, still missing her best friend, Cindy searched for them. She found Paul and learned where the two of them had gone. Paul was no longer teaching. He was working for a company.

  Cindy figured that was probably the only reason he was on social media since there was hardly anything personal about him in his profile. Bree was nowhere to be found, only the mention that he was married, and Cindy assumed that meant he remained married to Bree.

  Still, she had hoped that when she found Paul, he would tell Bree, and they could all be friends again. Maybe not as before, but at least they could reunite online. And although Paul had friended her back, that was the end of their contact.

  Cindy suspected Paul had friended her automatically, not realizing who she was. Friends on Facebook differed from real friends. On social media, friends were people who might know your name. Nothing more.

  So now, after all her unacknowledged birthday greetings, there was a letter?

  It was so improbable that all Cindy could do was stare at it. Just holding it sent a chill down her spine, and a flurry of questions ran through her thoughts. Why a letter? What happened?

  But before she could either open the letter or run a search on the Internet, her phone pinged in the other room. Now she knew where she had left it. She always put it down somewhere and had to wait for it to ring to find it, sometimes resorting to asking “Alexa” to call her phone.

  A glance at the kitchen clock told her she would be late meeting Judith, and Judith still hated people not being on time. She and Judith had a standing Monday morning coffee before both of them started their workweek. They were the only two of the pact of friends who had stayed in town. The group had slowly dissipated. Bree and Paul were the last to go.

  Marsha left as soon as she could, surprising no one. Everyone knew she wanted much more than could be found in tiny Spring Falls, a Pennsylvania town in what Marsha said was in the middle of nowhere.

  Marsha had spent a few years trying to make it on Broadway. She had been in a few plays, singing and dancing in the chorus, but eventually realized she would never be good enough and left New York.

  Through Judith, Cindy knew that Marsha now ran a small dance school and had never married. Or if she had, no one knew about it.

  April had eloped with a boy she met in history class after graduating from the community college and then they moved away. April kept in touch with Judith, and through her, Cindy knew April had two children and was expecting a grandchild from the oldest.

  As Cindy drove to the coffee shop to meet Judith, the unopened letter in her purse, Cindy thought about all that the five of them had gone through together, and all the promises they had made to each other, but never really kept.

  For years she had known Bree as well as she knew herself. She knew Bree’s secrets, even the ones she never shared.

  That was one thing about Bree everyone accepted. She was private and rarely shared, even with her best friends. The other thing about Bree was once she decided, she did what she said she would do. She said she and Paul would marry, and they did.

  They had waited until Bree graduated from the community college before officially dating since Paul wanted to keep his job, and couldn’t date a student. But no one missed the looks they gave each other in the meantime.

  Then they waited a more few months before Bree moved into Paul’s small apartment. Bree didn’t want to go on to university because it would mean leaving Paul. Paul kept teaching, and Bree took multiple odd jobs trying to find something that fit her.

  Cindy lost count of how many jobs Bree had during that year. After a while, Cindy knew that word got around that Bree was a hard worker, but wouldn’t stay if the reins were held too tightly, and it got harder and harder for Bree to find work.

  Bree said she didn’t care. She told her friends she was preparing for a future and just needed experiences. Besides, she was planning a wedding.

  A year after Bree graduated, she and Paul married. Cindy, Judith, April, and Marsha had all been her bridesmaids. Actually, they had made up almost the entire wedding party.

  April’s husband, Ron Page, had been Paul’s best man, mainly because Paul couldn’t think of who else to ask. Besides being April’s husband, Ron had been a student of Paul’s. And since Paul said he had no family to invite, Ron was the easiest choice.

  Paul explained that he never met the few cousins he had. Besides, they were scattered across the country. And he had been an only child. Both parents had died while he was away at college.

  Bree’s mother had given her away and then beamed at her only child, tears running down her face as she sat with some of the parents of Bree’s best friends.

  As small as it had been, the wedding was perfect and lovely. Of course, Bree had planned it down to the smallest detail, and they had all happily gone along with everything, delighted to be together.

  Marsha had flown in from New York, looking very sophisticated, and April and Ron had driven in from where they were living. April was already pregnant with her first child, which made finding a bridesmaid dress difficult. Bree finally picked a color and let everyone choose the dress they wanted to wear. Bree paid for the dresses out of the money she had earned working all her odd jobs.

  They put Ron in charge of making sure Paul had a boy’s night out, which consisted of drinking beer at the local pub and watching football. Thinking about that made Cindy chuckle. None of them had been party people even then. Now they were considered middle-aged and definitely not party people. What they were, she wasn’t sure.

  A single tear ran down her cheek, and she brushed it away, angry at herself again for missing what never happened. She had thought the five of them would be friends for life. People she could count on, precious friends who would always reach their hands out to her. And none of that had happened.

  As Cindy parked, she saw Judith through the glass window of the coffee shop waiting for her, early as usual. Which meant it wasn’t true that none of that had happened. There was always Judith. Her fearless friend. And that friend was holding a letter in her hand and waving it at her.

  Almost falling out of her car in her excitement, Cindy pulled her letter out of her purse and waved it back. Judith stood as Cindy came through the door, and they stared at each other.

  “I texted you. You didn’t answer!” Judith said.

  “Rushing to get here!”

  Both of them, holding up the letters, asked at the same time, “What do these mean?”

  Nine

  “We all got one?” Cindy said in surprise. “All of us?”

  “That’s what he said,” Judith answered.

  They had opened their letters at the same time, and now the single sheets of paper lay on the table in front of them, giving them no answers, only questions.

  Just then, Judith’s phone pinged.

  “It’s from April. She wants to know what we are supposed to do.”

  Cindy’s mind drifted back to the coat closet and how Bree had reached out to her and how their friendship had made school a safe space for her. For all of them, really. Bree had held them together.

  Perhaps it was time for them to do precisely what Paul had asked them to do—begged, really.

  “Do what he asked,” Cindy finally said, and once she said it, she knew it was the right thing.

  “But the gallery?” Judith said. “What will you do with it?”

  “It will take me a few days to get things in order. My assistants, Janet and Mimi, can run it while I’m gone. Will you check in and make sure they are doing okay? Get them more help if they need it?”

  Cindy knew that would be a piece of cake in Judith’s world. Judith, who had grown into a strong, independent, and self-assured woman, was one of the town leaders. She ran an accounting firm, and her staff did the bookkeeping and taxes for more than half the businesses in town, including Cindy’s art gallery.

  Although she had never married, Judith always had a date when she wanted one, which was rare. She told Cindy that all the men she dated eventually wanted her to be a “little woman,” and that was something she would never be.

  Sometimes they didn’t even know that’s what they wanted, but it always came out in little ways, and she would never allow herself to give in to that stereotype of a woman.

  Judith’s flaming red hair had softened, but not her determination. Cindy loved how kind and generous Judith was, but she also knew that it was wise never to cross her or do something blatantly wrong on purpose.

  The town council had more than once done battle with Judith, and they always lost in the end. Cindy wondered why they just didn’t do what Judith suggested in the first place.