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    Lunch. Milk? Bryn shook her head. Why did I order milk?
    The nausea was too much, and she ran to the bathroom to throw up again.

6
    C orrie paced the living room floor, staring at the cell phone in her hand. She had purposely worked late to avoid this. That way, she thought, she’d get home after Mark did. But he was tied up at the office again, preparing a report that had to be done by tomorrow. And here she was, pacing.
    To make matters worse, tomorrow he was flying to New York again.
    “Damn it,” Corrie had exploded. “Why does it have to be now?”
    “Don’t worry,” Mark said, laughing. “I’ll be home on Thursday. We’ll still have our weekend in Chicago.”
    But she was worried. She didn’t want him gone, not this week.
    The phone rang, startling her out of her reverie. She stood, hesitating. On the third ring, she answered.
    “Hello? . . . Oh, hi, Sarah. No, I’m up. . . . Just reading manuscripts,” she lied, glancing at the stack she’d brought home from the office sitting untouched on the hall table.
    “Are you okay? You’re not having labor pains this early, are you?”
    But Sarah was not in labor, just wanting to share the latest tales of Ian and Laurel. Corrie talked with her for a while, then resumed pacing.
    Would he call? Should she call? Was it too late to call now? She looked at the clock—9:30, not too late. She stared at the phone for a long minute, then shoved it into the pocket of her sweater. What would she say? “Hi, Daniel. What have you been up to for the last ten years? Miss me?”
    “I don’t think so,” she said aloud. “If he wants to talk to me, he knows where I am.”
    She walked into the kitchen, poured a second glass of cabernet, and sat down at the table with a manuscript. “The Bridges of Brown County.” She smiled wryly, shaking her head. Oh well, points for trying, she thought, laying the article aside.
    She sat for a moment, staring vacantly at the blue and white stripes of the wallpaper. Maybe she ought to repaper the kitchen. Mark really didn’t care much for the blue and white, after all. But Corrie loved it. It was clean and crisp and happy. She loved her kitchen.
    She stood suddenly, smoothed her skirt, and pulled the phone from her pocket. Before she could talk herself out of it, she dialed Bob’s number.
    “Hello.”
    It was Bob’s voice and it calmed her immediately.
    “Hi, Bob. It’s Corrie.”
    “Hey, stranger. We missed you at the reunion.”
    “Yeah, I was doing the good daughter-in-law thing. Did you have fun?”
    “It was okay. A little depressing, maybe.”
    Corrie could imagine how depressing it had been, explaining over and over why Wendy wasn’t there with him.
    “I’ll bet,” she said softly. “How’re you doing?”
    “I’m okay,” Bob replied. “I’ll have the kids this weekend. That’ll help.”
    Bob and Wendy had two boys, seven and five. Since Wendy left, the kids had been living with her and her new boyfriend in an old duplex on the outskirts of town.
    “You got big plans?” Corrie asked.
    “Nope, just gonna hang out here,” he answered. “I figure they get enough excitement with Wendy. I’m going the stability route.”
    “Have you seen a lawyer yet?” Corrie asked.
    “No,” he answered slowly. “I know I should. I just keep thinking she’ll come to her senses and come home. How long can she stay with that jerk?”
    “I don’t know, Bob. But you need to think about what you’re going to do if she doesn’t come back. You need to see a lawyer.”
    “I know, I know. I will. If nothing else, I’ve got to make sure I don’t lose the boys.”
    Corrie paused, feeling guilty. She loved Bob and she felt awful for him. His life had pretty much been turned upside down in the last couple months, and she hadn’t called often or been much help. Too busy, was her excuse—too lazy, more likely. And now she was calling . . . to talk to Daniel? What kind of friend was she?
    She decided she wouldn’t even