Thalia accepted with delight. She said she had had a fabulous summer. She had sent Francesca several e-mails and called her a couple of times, which was a lot for her. She rarely stayed in touch when she was away. She usually forgot her family when she was with her friends. And never the reverse. She had stayed longer than planned in Venice, and had a terrific time. And she thoroughly enjoyed the meal prepared by Marya and Charles-Edouard when she came to dinner. She still flirted with him whenever she talked to him, but she seemed a little less outrageous about it now. She had worn a black sweater and slacks instead of a short dress and high heels. They were halfway through the meal when she noticed Eileen’s absence. Francesca still hadn’t told her that she died. There was a long pregnant pause after Thalia asked about her.

“She moved back to California,” Ian said simply. “San Diego,” he informed her. No one else commented, and the conversation moved on. Francesca and Marya exchanged a long look that Thalia didn’t see.

“So what’s everyone planning now?” she asked over dessert. Charles-Edouard had made them a delicate pear tart. “Any trips? I’m going to Gstaad for Christmas,” she announced. Her friends in Venice had invited her to join them at their chalet there. It was one of the fancier ski resorts in Europe, and Thalia went at least once every winter, sometimes twice.

No one else had any major plans. The holidays seemed like light-years away to them. Charles-Edouard and Marya would be finishing their cookbook. Francesca was going to be busy at the gallery, and Chris had to get through the hearing for permanent custody of Ian, but he didn’t mention it to Thalia. That was hardly a pleasant plan.

Thalia had noticed the new warmth and closeness between Marya and Charles-Edouard. She asked her about it before she left, and Marya admitted it was true.

“Is he getting divorced, or did you just give in?” Thalia asked with interest. She had met several attractive married men in Venice herself. But she didn’t like playing on a team.

“His wife left him this summer and filed for divorce. I got lucky,” Marya said simply. She felt a little guilty having a man when Thalia wanted one so badly.

“You certainly did get lucky,” Thalia agreed in a plaintive tone. “I just don’t get it. You didn’t want a man, and I do. You get one and I don’t. Talk about upside down.” Marya didn’t want to tell her that maybe she tried too hard. And Marya hadn’t tried at all. Quite the reverse.

“Destiny perhaps,” Marya said diplomatically, but she believed it. “Things happen in their own time. You’ll get your turn,” she reassured her.

“I hope you’re right,” Thalia said with a sigh, as she put on a white jacket she had bought in Paris. As always, she was impeccably groomed and beautifully turned out, with exquisite pearl and diamond earrings and immaculately coiffed hair. She was enough to terrify any man. “I didn’t meet anyone even remotely possible this summer. St. Tropez is full of Eurotrash and Russians these days. And they’re all twelve years old. And everyone else in Europe is married, and cheating.”

“There’s someone out there for you,” Marya reassured her, and then Francesca came up from downstairs, walked her mother out, and put her in a cab. Even when she was pleasant, it was always a relief when she left. She was a lot of work, and it was stressful being with her. But Thalia got on well with Marya and Charles-Edouard, and was perfectly polite to Chris, which made her visits easier for Francesca. It was more agreeable than having dinner alone with her, which was always like the Spanish Inquisition. Francesca was tired when she went upstairs. It had been a long evening.

She spent the weekend in Connecticut with her father and Avery after that. He was working on a new painting and in his studio most of the time, which gave her a chance to go for long walks with Avery and relax.

“How are you all doing after Eileen?” Avery asked her gently, and Francesca sighed as she answered. She was still sad about it.

“We all miss her. She put a little extra youth in the group, despite her boy-craziness. She was more like a college kid than a grownup. I still haven’t told my mom, and I won’t. She doesn’t need to know. She’d just give me a headache about it, and it was bad enough. She was a real example of the kind of dating risks not to take. She would go out with anything that moved. She always thought it was safe, even when you could see it wasn’t. She had miserable judgment.”

“What about you? How’s your dating life these days?” Avery was worried about her. Todd had moved out more than eight months before, and Francesca had made no real effort to meet someone else. She didn’t seem to care.

“I don’t have one. I’m not even sure if I want one. I never meet anyone I’m interested in through my work. The artists I meet are all flakes, or pompous, or narcissistic. It just seems like too much work, and the clients who hit on me are always jerks. The nice ones are married.”

“You’re too young to give up,” Avery said firmly.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m not. I miss having someone in my life, but I don’t want a mismatch like I had with Todd, and figure it out five years later. You invest four years, figure out he’s the wrong guy, and then have a year of grief, and break up, and it breaks your heart. And five years go down the drain. I’m finding it a little hard to reenlist.”

“I hear Todd’s engaged,” Avery said cautiously.

“Yes, he is. Brave guy. He was suddenly in a big hurry to get married and have kids. God knows if he’s marrying the right woman. All he wants is a brood mare and someone to take to the Christmas party at his law firm. I’m not the type for either.”

“That’s a little harsh on both of you,” Avery said gently. She liked Todd. Just not for Francesca. She had never thought it was right, even in the beginning when they did. Avery had never thought he was interesting enough for her.

“Maybe it isn’t,” Francesca answered. “I don’t know what I want anymore. Arty, conservative, married, not married, living together, not. It’s all so goddamn complicated, and at this age everyone is damaged. They’ve all been screwed over by someone else, and so have I.” She was thinking of Chris when she said it. He readily admitted to being relationship-phobic, and she was beginning to feel that way too. “Maybe I’m too comfortable by myself now.” She’d been desperately lonely at first without Todd, but she wasn’t anymore. She liked doing what she wanted without having to consult anyone. “My roommates keep me company. I have Ian as the token child in my life, my artists to drive me nuts, they’re kind of like having permanent adolescents in your life. Why do I need a man?”

“When was the last time you had sex?” Avery asked her bluntly. “You might not want to give that up quite yet at thirty-five. It’s kind of nice.”

“Oh that.” Francesca grinned sheepishly. “I don’t even miss that anymore. I just turn it off.” It had been more than a year since she and Todd had stopped sleeping with each other, and having sex, before he left. “And I don’t have to shave my legs.”

“That’s attractive,” Avery teased her. She was worried about her. She seemed turned off, or shut down. It had taken her longer than expected to get over Todd, and it had obviously been a more traumatic disappointment than Avery thought it would be at first. But five years was a long time. And her struggle to keep the gallery and the house had been frightening for her.

“I do want to do some new things though. I’m going to Art Basel in Miami this year, just for the hell of it. I’m not showing there. And next summer I want to go someplace other than Maine. I had a great time, but it reminds me too much of Todd. They’re his friends, not mine. I don’t know, maybe Europe next year. But not with my mother,” she said, and Avery laughed. They both agreed that Thalia was high maintenance, and traveling with her would have been a nightmare for Francesca. “Maybe I’ll take a trip with Marya next year, if she’s not married by then,” Francesca said pensively. She loved talking to her stepmother. It gave her perspective about life, and she was so kind. She was a terrific friend.

“Is Marya getting married?” Avery looked surprised.

“She might. She hasn’t decided yet. She and Charles-Edouard are in love. He’s getting divorced.”

“That’s interesting. They’re terrific together. You know the old saying, there’s a lid for every pot. You just have to find yours.” The trouble was that Francesca wasn’t trying, and it wasn’t going to fall down the chimney in a white beard and red velvet suit into her arms. Avery remembered too easily all the men she had gone out with before Henry, the bad relationships she’d had, the disappointments, the heartbreaks, and the good relationships too. Avery hadn’t been desperate to get married either, but she did want to find the right man to spend time with. She never settled for less. It had taken her until she was fifty to find him, and the minute she met him, she knew Henry Thayer was it. That hadn’t happened to Francesca yet, and Avery hoped it wouldn’t take her as long. At least she was enjoying her life in the meantime. But Avery couldn’t decide if Francesca’s roommates were a good idea or not. They kind of blunted her hunger for meeting anyone, and it was too easy to just content herself with being with them, with no relationship in her life.

Her father came out of the barn that was his studio then, and smiled at both women as he put an arm around their shoulders. “How’s my favorite business partner?” he asked as he kissed his daughter. “Are we rich yet?”

“Maybe next year.” Francesca grinned. But the gallery was doing well. Better than it had the year before. Little by little, she was building the business, and it was making a small profit, more so than before, although not a big one yet. But it gave her hope. She was hanging in.