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said. She glanced back at him. “Danny? Did you say a house near yours is for sale?”
    “Yeah, it just went up last week. It’s two streets over.”
    “Is there a listing on here?” She gestured to her computer.
    “Yeah, but it’s quite a bit cheaper than the places you’re used to selling.” He winked at her.
    “I’d like to see it anyway.”
    “Okay, I’ll link you. It’s a great little place. Small for the neighborhood, but nicely maintained and cute as all hell. It’d be just right for one person or a couple.” He punched some buttons on his keyboard, then hit Enter with a flourish. “There you go.”
    Rachel opened her e-mail, clicked on the link he’d sent, and took a look.
    It was perfect.
     
    *
     
    Courtney was nervous. She hadn’t expected to be. After all, what was the big deal? She was going to simply sit in, listen, see if this was for her. That’s all. She didn’t even have to open her mouth if she didn’t want to.
    She sat in her Jetta in the parking lot and watched the kids on the nearby playground. The heat hadn’t broken much, but it was definitely cooler than it had been. Children shrieked in delight as they ran through the shooting water of the sprinkler area to her left. She smiled, vaguely remembering what it was like to be that carefree, to spend the long, toasty summers howling with glee over something as simple as getting sprayed by cool water. She sighed wistfully.
    The community center was a sprawling, one-story building made of neat and tidy brick. It wasn’t large, but it was bigger than she’d assumed after years of driving by and seeing it from the street. Courtney was impressed by the center itself as well as the grounds. Everything was orderly, from the landscaping to the garbage cans. It was hard to believe she was in the city and not a suburb. Whoever managed this area did a nice job.
    Steeling herself, she palmed her keys and exited her car, locking it, but leaving the windows cracked a bit. The walkway wound past the swing set and jungle gym, and Courtney took a deep breath to steady her nerves as she followed it, finally pulling one of the double doors open.
    In the hallway, silence engulfed her immediately, surprising her with how thoroughly the doors and walls sealed out the sound from the playground. The shrieking was gone. The hum of passing traffic had dissipated. The air was so still that for a split second, Courtney wondered if she’d suddenly lost her hearing. She stayed completely motionless, noting the clean smell of the place, like somebody had wiped down the walls with a pine-scented cleanser. Then a door clicked from the hall, the murmur of voices filtered in her direction, and she was released from her seemingly frozen state. She stepped toward the sounds, her sandals slapping loudly on the hard floor.
    She hadn’t expected the building to be air-conditioned and she felt goose bumps break out along her bare arms. There’s never a happy medium in western New York, is there? she thought with a grimace, not for the first time. It’s either sweltering or freezing. She was not a fan of air-conditioning and wasn’t looking forward to spending the next hour in a constant shiver. A jacket was the last thing on her mind in the early days of August, but she couldn’t help thinking how much of a help one would be now. Her tank top was almost useless, and she wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to ward off the chill. She scanned the doors down the hall, looking for number 217.
    There were four people inside when Courtney peeked around the doorjamb. Three women and one man looked up as she approached and one woman walked toward her, hand outstretched, smile on her face.
    “Hi there,” she said cheerfully. “Are you looking for Beyond the Grief?”
    Courtney inwardly cringed at the title of the group, just as she had the first time she’d heard it, but nodded and took the offered hand. “Did I find the right room?”
    “You did. I’m