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gone."
    "Huh?"
    "It took me a few minutes until I saw the note taped to the fridge.
    'Abbey, I will always love you, but it wasn't meant to be.' It took a
    few minutes to sink in. I kept looking for a P.S.: 'I'm outta here and
    you're outta eggs.' What kind of bullshit way is that to leave your
    wife?"
    Tommy bullshit. "I was out all night working on a story" bullshit.
    "I've stopped seeing Stephanie" bullshit. "The trip to Turks & Caicos is for work" bullshit. The kind of bullshit Abbey chose to
    believe.
    Magnolia disliked Tommy O'Toole, deeply. She guessed the feeling
    was mutual, as it is when someone knows you've got their number,
    although she could understand why Abbey fell for him. Two years
    younger than Abbey, a model turned anchorman for the local news,
    broad shoulders, no waist, that faint shrimp-on-the-barbie accent,
    curly brown hair, terrific piano player. Also quite the baker boy and,
    according to Abbey, extraordinary in bed. But ever since Tommy came
    on to her, a month before his wedding, Magnolia wanted to snarl at
    him whenever he entered the room.
    "I've been hysterical," Abbey said. "Blindsided. Haven't been to
    my workshop once. Or eaten a thing except for a whole pint of
    Chunky Monkey last night between three-thirty and four."
    What were Ben and Jerry putting in ice cream? Abbey picked up
    the pace and kept talking. "I feel like such a fool. I want to claw his
    eyes out. I miss him. I'm embarrassed. I feel pathetic. I'm in disbelief.
    I hate him. I love him. I'm exhausted from all this emotion. How can
    he really be gone?"
    What do you say to a friend who hurts everywhere? "Tommy is an
    asshole." Why state the obvious? "He tried to kiss me once, but I said,
    'Fuck off.' " Instead Magnolia said, "Abbey, he'll be back." As soon as
    she heard her voice, she realized any devotee of Dr. Phil could have
    done better. Plus, she doubted it was true.
    "Magnolia, you're wrong. This time I know he's never coming
    back. He took his cell phone charger, that navy Asprey blazer we had
    the fight about. Nineteen hundred dollars for a jacket that looks like
    Brooks Brothers? I'm still pissed. And the good knives. What kind of a
    man takes knives? Oh, and his passport. At least I never have to look at
    that Vuitton case again."
    Abbey and Magnolia had bonded long ago over how much they
    loathed Louis Vuitton anything, and now that Magnolia thought
    about it, she was suddenly convinced that Tommy's passport case was
    probably a gift from a woman with whom he'd had an adventure,
    probably in a humid place in a faraway time zone. "Do you have any idea where he went?"
    "No clue."
    They ran in silence, completing their laps. This was the first time
    Magnolia remembered a lull in their conversation. She and Abbey
    were perfectly matched as two of the slower runners around the
    reservoir—although today's shock appeared to be propelling Abbey
    to a speed that Magnolia had to work hard to match—and their
    chatter always made the runs seem more like a phone call than exer
    cise. Whether they were discussing if Abbey should use citrines
    or garnets in one of her designs—her jewelry line, Abbey K, had just been shown in a recent W ("worn by Hilary Swank to the Oscars")—or analyzing last night's dream, talk carried them
    through.
    After finishing their run, they headed to a nearby coffee shop for
    the fifteen minutes of breakfast Magnolia allotted herself on a work
    day. Not only were she and Abbey the only two women on the Upper
    West Side who still ate carbs—they shared a scone whenever they
    ran—she guessed they might also be the neighborhood's sole adult
    females who got through the day without antidepressants, although
    Magnolia was thinking that it would be handy right now for Abbey to
    have some pharmaceutical voodoo.
    "Tommy will be back," Magnolia insisted. "He adores you. You're
    his life." Where was this drivel coming from? Abbey burst into tears.
    Magnolia grabbed a stack of napkins, handed them to her