“He’s having a late midlife crisis, Claire,” Lynn said, adjusting her silver bracelet against her wrist with a sharp click.

“Men at fifty-four do strange things when their blood pressure changes.”

I sat on the low wooden stool at my vanity table, clutching Greg’s spare set of car keys so tightly the metal teeth bit into my palm.

“He didn’t yell, Lynn,” I said.

“He didn’t even take his winter coat off.”

“People who leave out of nowhere aren’t in their right minds,” Lynn insisted, smoothing the collar of a blue oxford shirt.

“He was probably regretting it five minutes down the road.”