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Lainey. Why don’t you show me around?”
    The two women started down one of the paths, passing a group of people being led through a yoga class by a young African -American man with dreadlocks. Lainey waved. He smiled and waved back.
    “That’s Jamal,” she explained. “He’s pretty cool. I usually take one of his morning classes.”
    A little farther along, they saw a tiny older woman sitting in front of an easel, painting. Sitting cross-legged on the ground next to her was the spirit of an elderly man. Lainey waved to the woman, who smiled and hoisted the brush in her right hand to return the gesture. The ghost at her feet waved to Emma.
    “Who is that woman?” Emma asked.
    “Her name is Mrs. Tapinsky—Ruth Tapinsky. She came here three months ago, shortly after she saw her husband murdered. I was told it was during a home robbery.” Lainey turned her head to look back at the woman. “Ruth hasn’t spoken a word since it happened.”
    “She seems friendly, though.”
    “Very friendly, except for the talking thing.”
    “You like her a great deal, don’t you?”
    Lainey smiled. “Yes. She’s eighty-seven, and her eyes aren’t that great, so I read to her a few nights a week.”
    “But she paints, even with bad eyes?”
    Lainey leaned close. “Between her eyes and her arthritis,” she whispered, “she’s not that good of a painter, but she loves doing it, and I think it helps her grieving process.”
    Emma put a hand lightly on Lainey’s back. “You have a good heart, Lainey. Don’t ever lose that.”
    Several steps later, they passed two picnic tables. At one, two men—one young, one middle aged—sat playing chess. They also smiled and greeted Lainey.
    “This place seems to suit you, Lainey.”
    “My mother tried to ship me off to some fancy facility in Baja, but I checked myself into here. I have money of my own, money I inherited from my father’s estate when I turned eighteen. I can go anywhere I want.”
    “But why here, Lainey? Isn’t there a place like this nearer to your mother?”
    “Yes—two, in fact—but she was adamant that I not go to one of those. She was so afraid one of her friends would see me, and how would she explain that? Joanna Reid’s daughter in a nut house.” Lainey held out her arms as if making an announcement. “News at eleven! It was either Baja or find a place on my own.”
    Emma looked around at the sprawling green grass lawn and manicured shrubs. “This is hardly a nut house, Lainey.”
    “My doctor suggested Serenity.” She glanced around like a princess taking in her realm. “They’ve been very nice to me here. Very down-to-earth and helpful.”
    She pointed to a two-story building standing next to the larger main building. “That’s where they keep the really messed-up patients. You know, those that need constant watching and monitoring. I was there about a week when I first arrived. Now I’m in a bungalow.” Emma noted that Lainey didn’t seem at all self-conscious about being in the facility. “The bungalows are triplexes that share small patios. Ruth is in one of the other rooms in my bungalow.”
    Emma stopped walking. “How long have you been here?”
    The girl took a deep breath, her eyes rolling up as she did the math in her head. “It’s been just over a month, I think.”
    A month. Emma looked at the young woman who used to drink cocoa with Kelly while doing homework. A girl who told Emma about her first kiss long before she’d said anything about it to her own parents. “How much longer will you be here?”
    Another shrug. “My doctor thinks I’ll be ready to go home soon.”
    “You don’t sound convinced.”
    “I’m not sure what I have to go home to.”
    They had arrived at a patio by the pool. The pool was a long rectangle with lane lines painted on the bottom. It was surrounded by a high fence—a reminder of the safety precautions needed in such a place. In the pool, a young woman was conducting a small water