Behind the diner, Ona’s pickup truck stood parked by the trash cans. Ona herself leaned against the driver’s door, a toothpick in her mouth.
“You coming or staying?” she asked.
“Where are we going?”
“To finish what you started.”
Alice rubbed her eyes. It seemed the sun was brighter, the haze of white noise clearing, and every detail crisper—from the wide tires on the pickup to the sparkling rhinestones on Ona’s eyepatch.
She looked back over her shoulder. The back door to the diner had shut behind her. Beyond it, Rich was waiting for her. Beyond it lay her old life.
She took a deep breath and let it out. She’d run from Rich once. She’d do it again. Except this time, she knew what she was running toward. Toward Ona and Becca—and Blithedale.
Slipping onto the passenger seat of the pickup, she said, “It’s like you’re breaking me out of prison.”
“Not a bad metaphor.” Ona reached across and grabbed Alice’s hand and gave it a warm squeeze. “That’s what friends are for.”
Alice put her hand over Ona’s and held it there for a moment. Ona and Becca cared so much for her—worried so much about her going back to Rich—that they’d conspired to save her. The realization sent waves of warmth through her body, and exhausted as she was, the feeling of being loved brought tears to her eyes.
Ona said, “Let’s get going.”
She put the car in reverse and revved the engine. As they swung out onto Main Street, Alice, gripping the truck’s grab handle, asked, “But really, where are we going?”
“Susan Malone’s. After the bookstore collapsed, she talked to Becca. Said that when she heard the news, she was worried for a moment that you’d died. She regretted not being honest with you when you visited. She wanted another chance.”
“I’m all about second chances,” Alice said, realizing now why Becca had been so excited when she’d first come into the diner. “But what couldn’t Susan tell me the first time?”
“We’ll find out.”
They’d already crossed town, and the pickup turned onto the street with the modest ranch houses. A minute later, Alice spotted the Malones’ home, with Vince’s sports car in the driveway.
Ona parked the pickup. As soon as Alice got out, the front door to the house opened and Susan appeared. She hugged herself, staring at Alice and Ona with obvious nervousness.
She looked up and down the street. “Come inside.”
Alice and Ona followed Susan inside the house. This time, Susan didn’t offer coffee on the porch. She brought them to the kitchen and stopped. She went to the espresso machine, then turned back. Went to the electric kettle, then turned away. She couldn’t seem to decide where to go or what to do.
“How do I do this?” she asked no one in particular.
“You start,” Alice said, putting a comforting hand on Susan’s arm, “at the beginning.”
Susan reached for a pack of cigarettes on the kitchen island and held it in her hands. But she didn’t pull out a cigarette and light it.
“Years ago, Vince started making more money than he’d ever made before. When did it begin?” She sighed. “It began with that cabin—the Oriels’ summer house—which fell into the gorge.”