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cleaning up after you. Like I have nothing better to do.”
    â€œWhat about the shopping? You planning to make a grocery trip soon?”
    She poured creamer into her travel mug. “Caleb, with the way your schedule works, you’ve got more time to go than I do.”
    â€œHey, I just asked you a simple question. You don’t need to get smart with me. You could’ve at least saved me some breakfast.”
    â€œWell, I never know when you’re eating at home or going out. You don’t tell me these things.”
    â€œCatherine, what is your problem?” Caleb’s scavenging turned up a granola bar. Better than nothing. He slammed the cupboard door and turned. “Did I offend you by walking in the door this morning?”
    â€œNo. You just can’t expect me to work every day and still get the groceries, while you sit at home looking at trash on the Internet and dreaming about getting your boat.” She dipped a spoon into a bowl of sweetener and stirred her coffee.
    Couldn’t she even extend the courtesy of looking at him?
    He stabbed a finger at the air. “Hey, you chose to take this job, and no one said you had to work full-time.”
    â€œWe need the income, Caleb—especially since you tuck away a third of your salary saving for a boat we don’t need. You’ve got twenty-four thousand dollars in savings when we have things in our house that need fixing.”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œThe back door needs to be painted, the yard needs better landscaping, and I keep telling you I want to put more shelves in the closet.”
    â€œThose are called preferences, Catherine. Those are not needs. There’s a difference. If you wanna spend your money on that stuff, go ahead. Fine. But I’ve been saving up for my boat for years.”He turned his back, disgusted by this whole conversation. “You’re not taking that from me.”
    â€œThis is so pointless. I don’t have time for this.”
    â€œYeah, go on.” He watched her scoop up her belongings as he tore into the granola bar. “And shut the door on your way out.”
    She did. Forcefully.
    In the hallway something clattered onto the carpet, and when Caleb went to investigate, he found one of their wedding photos dislodged from the wall. He jammed it back onto its hook, not even waiting to see if it settled evenly.
    LATER IN THE afternoon, Catherine hosted Robin Cates and her passel of scented candles. Robin was on the couch, the Holt wedding album in her lap. Catherine took a seat next to her, with a bag of cookies and two drinks. She was dressed casually, done with the headaches of her workday. From the unlit candles on the table, she selected a lavender one and drew in its floral sweetness.
    â€œOh,” Robin said. “Just look how happy you are. Catherine, these pictures are gorgeous.”
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œSomeday . . . ,” her friend said wistfully.
    â€œRobin, you’re a hopeless romantic. That’s not real life, you know?”
    â€œBut it’s every little girl’s dream, right?”
    â€œYeah. And then we grow up.”
    Sounds of a car in the drive were followed by a visitor’s knock on the door.
    â€œCaleb,” Catherine called down the hall.
    He emerged from the master bedroom, outfitted in a gray T-shirt and navy sweatpants. Catherine saw Robin give him a quick approving look, then drop her gaze back to the album.
    Another knock.
    â€œI got it,” Caleb said. He passed through the dining room.
    Catherine didn’t need to see their visitor to know it was Lieutenant Simmons. Simmons had arrived in Albany five years ago, after serving in Iraq, and quickly become one of her husband’s best friends.
    â€œHey, Michael,” Caleb was saying.
    â€œYou ready?”
    â€œYeah, let me get the drinks.”
    Catherine saw him duck into the kitchen and heard the fridge open. “Caleb, are you