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from.”
    She put out her hand to stop Suze from saying anything. “And yes, I remember. We had some good times. Some really goodtimes. But I had some that were just awful. And it’s impossible to remember one without the other.”
    â€œI’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge it all up.”
    â€œDon’t be. You know more about me than most people.” Strange, since they’d never been that good friends. Which maybe had made it easier for Van to seek Suze out when she’d been completely down and out and close to death.
    â€œAnd I . . .” Van shrugged. She didn’t know how to say what she felt. To thank Suze for not judging her. Or if she had judged her, for keeping it to herself and helping her anyway.
    â€œDon’t say it. Have a crab puff.” Suze shoved the rose-edged plate toward her.
    â€œThanks, but I’m not really hungry.”
    Suze wiggled the plate at her. “You need sustenance. I have a feeling you are going to get a barrage of questions from Dorie.”
    Van took a crab puff. “She still has the same plates.”
    â€œAmazing. I break a plate or cup at least once a week. I must have gone through five sets of dishes since I started working.”
    â€œBecause you’ve become the absentminded professor.”
    Suze laughed, spewing out bits of quiche.
    â€œAbsentminded and basically a slob, obviously.” She grabbed a paper napkin and brushed off the front of her shirt and pants, wadded up the napkin, and tossed it on the far edge of the coffee table.
    Van smoothed it out and stuck it under one of the tins.
    â€œUnlike some people I know.”
    â€œI like things neat.”
    â€œWhich is why you’re so good at what you do. I’m just the opposite. If I had the money, I’d hire you to organize my life. Especially when I’m so totally stressed about the grant money. Makes me even more absentminded and sloppy.”
    â€œYou need money?”
    â€œVan, I live on a professor’s salary. Do you know what untenured professors make?”
    Van shook her head.
    â€œPeanuts. But enough about my grantless state, my bad habits, and your good ones. Eat up. Because one of us is going to have to tell Dorie that Harold has gone off—again.”
    Van shrugged, considered. “I bet she knows.”
    â€œLike I said—clairvoyant.”
    â€œNo way. Though I wouldn’t put it past her to orchestrate his departure.”
    Suze chewed her quiche, her face registering a comical mix of innocence and surprise. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
    Van groaned. “This better not turn into The Big Chill Jersey Shore Edition .” There was still time to follow Harold’s example and run. Maybe Suze would like to go with her.

Chapter 4
    V AN ACCEPTED A SECOND HALF GLASS OF WINE . I T WASN’T that she was afraid of becoming an alcoholic. It was just she didn’t like being out of control. She’d done that once with disastrous consequences.
    Already she could feel her control slipping, not from the wine but from just being back in Whisper Beach. She’d been crazy to think she’d never have to confront her past or her past relationships. Even when she decided to come to the funeral, she thought she could get in and out without too much discomfort. But she’d been wrong on both counts.
    She hadn’t cut her ties as she’d thought these last twelve years. They were just as strong; maybe they’d grown stronger while she’d been ignoring them.
    Van heard the front door open, squeak on its hinges, a sound that was still so familiar that it caught her off guard. For a second, she was eighteen again, and Dorie didn’t have those lines of age and worry on her face.
    Suze did a backbend over the chair arm until she could see Dorie. “We’ve red, white, and white zin. And we helped ourselves to some of the funeral food. Hope you don’t