“You know I’m right. He’s perfect. Spotless military record, local hero, teacher and coach, wonderful husband. And look at him.” She gestured at the dock, where he was completely absorbed in the kids. “My dream?” She picked at a dry bit of wood on the chair arm. “I make a lot of trips to Seattle and Portland for work.”

A loud wail erupted from Addie. Caroline was on her feet immediately, running to the dock. Since having the kids in her life, she had quickly learned the meaning of different cries. She was now keenly familiar with the uncomprehending-sadness cry. The I’m-bored whine. The pathetic bleats of hunger. This was none of the above. This was the grand mal pain cry.

By the time she reached Addie, Will had scooped the little girl into his arms and was striding toward Caroline. “She got a splinter in her knee,” he said.

“Oh, that’s a big one,” Caroline said, inspecting the damage. Yikes. A full inch of the weathered gray wood from the old dock was embedded in Addie’s tender flesh.

“It hurts,” Addie howled, elongating each word. “Get it out!”

“I’ll bet it does hurt.” Will seemed unruffled as he carried her toward the house. Caroline took Flick’s hand in hers and followed them inside. “When I was in the navy,” Will said, “I learned how to deal with injuries like this. I’m pretty good at it.”

“He’s going to dig it out with a needle,” Flick said.

“No!” Addie clung to Will’s neck.

He placed her on the kitchen counter by the sink. “We won’t use a needle. I have a better way.”

“I’m scared of needles,” Addie said.

“Pay attention, both of you. I’ll show you how to make a proper field dressing.” Will washed his hands at the sink and took a first aid kit from the cupboard.

Addie sniffled and whispered, “Still hurts.”

“Yeah, I know,” Will said. “Splinters are the worst. See this?” He held up a bottle. “It’s cleansing solution and it doesn’t hurt. I’ll let you squirt some right on the sliver.”

She took the bottle and dribbled the saline onto her knee. “Still hurts,” she mumbled.

“Go ahead and use a lot,” Will said. Then he helped her dry the area. “I have a secret splinter weapon,” he said. “Duct tape. It’ll feel like taking off an old Band-Aid.” He kept up a stream of friendly patter as he covered the splinter with tape and then peeled it quickly away.

“Ouch!” Addie burst out.

“Here you go,” he said, showing her the splinter stuck to the back of the tape. “You were brave.”

“I wasn’t brave. I cried.” She gazed forlornly at the blood oozing from her knee.

“You let me fix you up even though you cried. I would call that brave.” He finished up with antibiotic ointment and a Band-Aid. “All set,” he said, lowering her down to the floor.

“Thank you,” Caroline said. “Very impressive, Mr. Jensen.” He was so self-assured with the kids. Where did that come from? And when would she ever feel even a fraction of his confidence?

Flick looked around the mudroom off the kitchen. “What are you building?” he asked, taking in the power tools and half-finished shelves.

“All kinds of stuff,” Will said. “I’m always building, because we’re remodeling. I’m putting shelves and cabinets in this room.”

“I like tools,” Flick said.

“You never told me that,” Caroline said.

“You never asked.”

“I like tools, too, buddy,” Will said. “I bet I know something else you like. Otter Pops.”

“Yeah!”

He went to the freezer and took out two of them, expertly snipping the tops and handing them over. Then he offered one to Caroline.

“No, thanks. You’re good with kids of any age,” she told him.

“That’s because kids are awesome.” He cut a glance at Sierra. “Right?”

He looked away quickly, so he missed Sierra’s reaction—a physical shudder.

Really? Caroline wondered. Did that mean trouble in paradise?

Addie gave her treat a squeeze, and half of the frozen pop landed on the floor. “Oh, man,” she said.

“It happens.” Will got another one for her. He glanced again at Sierra, who was mopping up with a paper towel.

“How about you take them outside,” she suggested.

“Keep your life jackets on if you go near the water,” Caroline called as they scampered out the door.

“Hey, Mr. Will,” Flick called from the yard. “Can we go have a look in the barn?”

“Sure,” Will said. “Okay?” he asked Caroline.

She nodded. “Of course.”

“I’ll go with them.” He headed outside. “Come on, you two.”

Sierra crossed her arms and turned to Caroline, who was looking out the window at the kids following Will to the barn. “Right now, it’s just a big empty space. He upgraded the electrical system to the barn because he had some idea about making it an indoor play area one day. See what I mean? He’s perfect.”

“Come on. Nobody’s perfect.”

“He wants to save the family home and have kids. Perfect, right?”

“I suppose that depends.”

“On what?” Sierra paced back and forth as if caged. “If it’s so perfect, why can’t I want what he wants? Why can’t I be happy with all this?”

Because maybe it’s someone else’s perfect, thought Caroline. “I’m not even going to try to answer that one,” she said. Her goal in coming here with the kids today had been to try to normalize relations with Sierra and Will. She hoped they were making progress in that direction. Still, they were all different people now. Will was missing an eye. Sierra was missing her city life. And Caroline . . . She had been out of touch with her friends, but the palpable weight of their tension pressed hard. And she had no idea what to say.

“Let’s finish the tour,” Sierra said. “I’ll show you the rest of our money pit.”

Caroline made no comment as she followed Sierra upstairs. Reconnecting with her friend was uncomfortable, to say the least. They used to tell each other everything, but that used to mean confessing what you found in your mom’s underwear drawer or that you sneaked a bottle of communion wine from church. This conversation was a new level of everything.

Sierra showed her a freshly painted guest room and a smaller bedroom filled with stacked and labeled moving boxes.

“This is supposed to be the baby’s room,” Sierra said. “Will wants kids so bad.”

“You’re telling me a lot about what he wants. What about you?”

She shrugged. “I keep thinking there’s got to be something wrong with me. He’s wonderful, and I’m horrible. I feel like a fraud.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Caroline said. “It’s just . . . relationships can be hard. God knows, you’re looking at proof of that.”

“So, no one special?” asked Sierra.

“No. I mean . . . I went out with guys. I fell in love a time or two. At least I think I did. And then . . .” She winced, remembering the soaring elation, followed by the sinking disappointment of the emotional roller coaster. “I wanted to find that one thing that would last. And you know what? I did. I did find it. But there was a twist—that one thing was not a guy. It was my career. Now I’ve left that behind. So it’s kind of like a breakup I wasn’t ready for.”

“You’ll figure something out. That project you’re doing for the school—isn’t that a start? You’re one of the most clever, creative people I know.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.” She had poured all her energy, all her heart into the Chrysalis line, pinning her hopes and dreams like shiny beads to the gossamer fabrics. She wondered when the feeling of violation would fade. When she would find the confidence to begin anew.

“Well, I could use your help.” Sierra opened a closet. “I outgrew the space in the master bedroom.”

“Great, so now I’m a closet organizer.”

“That’s not what I meant. I’ve got a thing coming up,” Sierra said. “Not a modeling gig, but a meeting about producing a high-end shoot. I need to dress like someone they’ll take seriously.”

“Now that I can help with,” said Caroline. “Cool, elegant, or trendy?”

“Can I be all of the above?”

“You already are.”

As they sorted through the clothes, old memories surfaced. They were kids again, best friends.

Caroline found a blouse in watered silk and paired it with a pencil skirt. They tried a few accessories, settling on a look with a bold arm cuff, shoes, and a bag.

“You’re in your element,” Sierra said.

“I’ve styled so many models.” She paused. “My friend Angelique—Flick and Addie’s mother—was one of the best runway models in New York. She came from Haiti and blasted to the top of her game. And then she died of an overdose.”

“Oh, my sweet God above.” Sierra shuddered. “I’m so sorry. Those poor kids.”

“I’m constantly haunted by it. A few months before she died, I noticed she had some injuries. Bruises.”

“You mean track marks? Needle marks?”

“No. Somebody hit her.”

Sierra gasped. “That’s horrible. But you know, it’s a thing. I’ve seen it in the modeling world. Girls start so young. They don’t know how to deal with the business, and they’re so desperate to make it that they’ll put up with anything.”

Caroline looked at her. “Did it ever happen to you?”