Chapter 1

Evie

Isit crossed-legged in bed, my laptop propped up in front of me. Another night of binge-watching nineties sitcoms. I wait for my guilty conscience to perk up, relieved when it doesn't. I'm allowed a few innocent pleasures.

Glancing at the time displayed on my computer, I note it's already past midnight. With a sigh, I push the laptop aside to the empty side of the bed. That space, unoccupied for years, has become a dumping ground for when I'm too lazy to put things away properly.

I reach for my daily planner, dig a pen from my hair bun and draw a large ‘x' over yesterday's date. Only three more days until the big 5-0.

I get out of bed and plod slowly to the kitchen, the porcelain tile cold against my bare feet. I find a clean wine glass, filling it from the half-empty bottle and swallow a large gulp of the cheap Merlot, the liquid sliding like silk down my throat.

"What have I got to show for half a century on this planet?" I mutter to myself, quickly following it up with a mental head slap.

Daniel and Jeffrey are my two gems. Everyone tells me I've done a terrific job with the boys, and I have to agree. Eleven months apart, they're Irish twins and thick as thieves when they're together. Whether their closeness resulted from their parents' divorce or preceded it doesn't matter. Chicken or egg. Their relationship had helped them through the toughest time of their lives.

Now they're grown. A few months ago, Daniel graduated college. Set with a decent position at a Manhattan accounting firm, he's seeing someone, enjoying the freedom that comes with making money and having no major expenses. Jeffrey has two semesters left and is spending them studying abroad. It's still too early in Rome to call him.

Their dad has been a less than stable figure in their lives, jumping from one job to the next, frequently a year or two of no steady income in the interim. I've lost count of the times he's moved, and I assume it's due to evictions.

I down the rest of the wine, unable to shake the feeling of unease. Like a galaxy filled with stars and I'm fixated on the singular black hole. I hope the plan to celebrate my milestone birthday with Caroline is the right decision. I'm excited and nervous for the trip out west with my BFF. The two of us have been hitting the gym for months, chatting on the Stairmaster, revving up for the hikes in Yosemite.

I've known Caroline and my three other gal pals, Barbie, Sam, and Monique for years, some for decades. We've been there for each other through weddings, babies, divorces and death.

Barbie started the Fabulous Fifty club the day she hit the half-century mark last June and the rest of us were inducted early. Granted, I recruited Caroline who until then barely knew the others. She finally joined, kicking and screaming, swearing us all to secrecy. No one can know how old she is, except for the four of us and her life coach. She wanted to rename the club, Desperate Housewives of the Upper East Side, but all of us are single. We meet every month, more or less, depending on our schedules.

I rinse out the glass and go back to my room, studying myself in the full-length mirror, trying my best to see myself objectively. My wavy brown hair reaches my shoulders. Golden highlights cover up the encroaching grays. My arms and legs still have muscle. After months of Pilates, my stomach looks firm and as flat as it will ever be. Other body parts have begun to turn south, but for a woman knee-deep in middle age, I don't look too bad. As a matter of fact, I've been confused with being Daniel's wife on more than one occasion. Whether that's due to my son's thick beard and mature manner or my youthful one is debatable, but the misconception does stroke my ego.

I slip into my short-sleeved nightie for what may be the last time this season. October in New York can be nippy, or warm and comfortable like today. But it's the weather in Yosemite that's on my mind, where it will be perfect for long days of hiking.

I put on my reading glasses and grab the National Parks travel guide I picked up at the bookstore on my way home from work, thumbing through breathtaking photos of where I'll soon be visiting.

Ten minutes later, I'm nodding off, the book slipping from my fingers, images of mountain peaks floating through my mind.