She stood in the doorway and looked around at the mismatched chairs, the plants on the windowsill, and the sketch of Tommy’s bridge taped beside the refrigerator.

“You seem happier,” she said.

“I am.

I’m also tired and worried about money.

Sometimes I’m lonely.”

“Both can be true.”

I nodded.

The old house had been beautiful, but my happiness there depended on keeping everyone else satisfied.