1. Chapter 1

one

Everyone around the table exclaimed as the perfectly cooked pot roast in a rich brown gravy was served with mashed potatoes and carrots. Jason Adler turned his handsome, wine-flushed face towards Harper Wood. "Every woman needs a man to look after her. Would you like to have dinner sometime?"

"Excuse me." She placed her napkin on the table and stood. Walking past the other four dinner guests, she made her way down the hall to the coat closet, where she picked up her wool coat and black leather handbag. Before heading out the front door, she glanced at herself in the entrance mirror and quickly turned away from her blanched reflection. Her makeup had done nothing to disguise the shadows beneath her puffy eyes. Stepping out into the cool night air, she quietly pulled the door closed behind her.

Back at her house, as she swallowed her migraine medicine, she promised herself: Never again. She closed her eyes to block out the luxurious guest suite's black, gold, and tan décor and buried herself under the bed's slick black comforter. Before the medicine carried her off to sleep, she promised herself once again that she was done with manipulation. Especially from men she'd just met.

After dozing fretfully in the tomb-like quiet for a few hours, Harper woke up and checked her phone. It was 5:00 am. Groaning, she rolled over, swallowing to quell her queasy stomach. Last night had been a train wreck, and she knew the reckoning was coming. To distract herself, she reviewed the day before, beginning with her chat with Susan, her housekeeper, at breakfast.

"Have you finished with the Grands' Halloween costumes?" Harper asked as she poured a cup of coffee and looked in the fridge. She grabbed a mozzarella stick and a handful of blueberries. Then, reaching into the vitamin cabinet, she pulled out a bag of collagen and spooned some into her coffee.

Susan shook her head. "Surely you can eat more than that." She pulled a slice of toast from the toaster and spread it with butter before placing it in front of Harper. "The costumes are coming along. I'm struggling a little with Jacob's squirrel tail, but I think I've worked out a plan with stiff black wire. I just need to make sure I place it up high enough that he can sit down when he needs to. And I still need to attach the claws to Ava's pink monster costume."

Harper ignored the toast and continued picking at her bowl of fat, juicy blueberries. "Thanks, Susan, but bread has too many carbs. So, tomorrow's the big night, huh? It must be exciting. They're at the perfect age to enjoy Trick or Treating."

Susan wiped her hands on a pristinely white dish towel as she frowned at Harper's thin frame. The two women had been fighting this battle for years, and Harper knew Susan hated to admit defeat. "Yes, they are. Anything special you'd like me to do today?"

"Whatever's on your schedule is fine. I won't be home for dinner tonight because I've been invited to the Mulhennys' for a Halloween-themed dinner. So, you can skip that."

"That's fine, Mrs. Wood—I'm glad you're going out. If you don't mind my saying so, I think you need to go out more often. As for today, the gutter cleaners will be here, so it may be noisy outside. I'll plan to leave around four as usual, but I won't make dinner. I'll have a salad ready for your lunch. Is there anything else?" She stood still in the uniform Tim had insisted she wear for the past however many decades she'd worked for them. It was an outdated pair of straight khaki pants with a white button-up shirt covered with a thin, navy blue knit blazer. Once Tim was gone, Harper had asked her to wear whatever she wished to work, but Susan insisted on keeping to tradition.

Harper's brain crawled sluggishly, which was typical for mornings. But the talk of Halloween reminded her she'd meant to give Susan the afternoon off. "You've got a lot to do at home, getting those costumes ready. Why don't you take off at noon today? That will give you a little extra time."

Susan smiled with relief as she smoothed her graying hair. "Thank you! Yes, that would make everything run a bit smoother. Since the kids moved in with me, I sometimes struggle to get everything done."

Harper flipped up her laptop lid, hoping to fill a little time. Ever since Tim died, she had felt too tired to do much of anything, and she had no desire to go anywhere.

After his funeral, she had considered going back to work, but knew she'd be starting the same routine she had come to loathe at the community college where she'd been teaching over the last few decades. The students didn't seem to want to be in her English and creative writing classes any more than she did. Besides that, trying to please a demanding, implacable administration left her exhausted.

She looked around her cavernous kitchen. Despite the sun shining in the windows over the sleek white cabinets and basalt countertops, the whole scene seemed overlaid with dismal haze.

After briefly checking the dispiriting news, she took a walk around her neighborhood. Even with sunglasses, it was painfully bright in the late October sunshine, with the last of the leaves, still a mixture of green, red, yellow, and orange, clinging stubbornly to the few trees gracing her neighbors' massive yards. Fall had been her favorite season when she was younger, traipsing around the countryside with her Grandma Sophie. But now the bright weather only mocked her.

She wondered again if she should buy an old Victorian cottage in the historic Oakwood neighborhood. That's what she'd wanted to do when she and Tim first moved to Raleigh, North Carolina. Charming bay windows and a broad front porch on a leafy street had been her dream.

Her husband had vetoed her wish, and instead they bought this house in a newly built gated community next to a golf course and country club, where every home was obscenely large for the number of people it sheltered. And now that she was free to move wherever she wanted, she couldn't drum up the enthusiasm to do it. At fifty-seven, she felt her life was already over. What was the point of moving to another part of town? Only her surroundings would change, not her circumstances.

Deep in her reflections, at first she didn't notice the small person hunched under a bush by her front gate. As before, the visitor was dressed in green and brown, with long, silky black hair that fell to its knees. Any visible skin wasn't light, like in illustrations of mythical, human-like creatures in picture books from her childhood. Instead, this one looked more like a Native American. She'd seen the diminutive being twice since Tim died, each time regarding her the same way. It was a curious look, as if to say, "Can you see me?"

The first time it had happened, she'd been driving home after a trip to an attorney's office. It was a spring afternoon, and she had stopped the car and gotten out for a closer look at the diminutive person. A closer inspection revealed nothing there. She decided her eyes were playing tricks on her.

The second sighting had been in August. That time she'd been walking in the early evening. Expecting the image to prove itself a mirage like before, she stopped. But this time the little creature didn't move. Confronted with such an unexpected encounter, Harper had been so unnerved she'd half-jogged, half-walked back to her house as rapidly as she could. Though shaken, she'd since convinced herself it was only her imagination.

She'd been a child the last time she'd seen anything like that. Now in late middle age, the return of these sightings was anything but a welcome addition to her life. This time, instead of approaching the bush, she stayed to the other side of the blacktop before quickly making her way up the curving driveway to the house. She could feel its eyes on her as she passed. Not a good start to the day.

That evening at 6:00 pm sharp, she pulled up in front of the Mulhennys' house. Even though they lived only a few miles from Harper in an adjoining, equally exclusive subdivision, she hadn't seen them since Tim's funeral. But when Nora Mulhenny, a community volunteer and socialite, had called with the invitation, she had politely insisted that Harper come.

Harper had never enjoyed the Mulhennys' company—they were friends of convenience. Tim had been the brains, while Bob Mulhenny had been the money behind Surgical Solutions, the lucrative software business for hospitals and surgeons that paid for Harper's discomfitingly comfortable lifestyle.

But her hosts weren't the only reason Harper hadn't wanted to come. She had always loathed dinner parties. When her parents held them long ago, she would beg to spend the night with her Grandma Sophie. The adults had always seemed tight and phony at first, then, after the drinks began to flow, too loud and boisterous. Dinner parties conjured woeful memories. But this time, she had been too weary to find an excuse not to go. At any rate, it was inevitable that she'd see them sometime. Bob had already had his lawyer contact her with an offer to buy out Tim's stocks in the company.

As she pulled her shiny black SUV into their wide driveway, Harper saw only two other cars. One, a gray Mercedes, belonged to the Smiths, which wasn't surprising: they were mutual friends, another couple connected to Bob and Tim's business. She didn't recognize the other, a more modest red Honda. Nora hadn't told her who would be there, but Harper had hoped there would be only a few other people. She'd always disliked crowds.

She flipped down her visor and checked her dusty rose lipstick in the mirror. Harper had forgotten to ask if costumes were expected at the Halloween-themed dinner. To be on the safe side, she wore a black dress, tights, and shoes. She could always say it was her version of a witch's costume. But, she thought uncomfortably, she hadn't visited a salon in so long that they might not take it as a joke. She'd combed her shoulder-length gray-blonde hair into what she hoped would pass for a sleek ponytail tied with a simple black band.

Looking toward the house, Harper saw Nora watching her from the doorway and groaned inwardly. It was too late to leave and send a text that she had a migraine. And by now she was positive she'd have one before the evening ended.

"Harper, it's so good to see you! You look great!" Nora headed down the sidewalk to give her a quick hug and an air kiss. As usual, Nora looked like she'd just completed a day at the spa followed by a makeover for glamour shots. She was wearing a small pumpkin tiara in her auburn hair, but was otherwise dressed in black from head to toe. Harper had no idea how she managed it: you'd never guess from looking at her that she was over sixty.

"Thanks, Nora. It was kind of you to invite me." Harper handed over the bay- and tobacco-scented candle she had purchased at a giftshop on the way as the obligatory gift.

"Oh, heavenly," Nora said with a slight frown as she sniffed the candle.

Nora stored her coat and bag in a walk-in closet near the door and led Harper to the spacious living room. "I think you know everybody, except Jason Adler. Bob will introduce you to him. He's the rector at St. John's Episcopal."

Harper cursed to herself. She should have seen this coming. Why? she asked herself yet again. Why did I agree to come to this?

On entering the room, Harper was greeted by polite hellos. Obviously they were all on their first drinks. She already knew the Smiths, an attractive couple near her age who had served as frequent companions for her and Tim. They sat around the coffee table with a man she didn't recognize. This must be Jason.

They all stood as Bob greeted her. "Well! Harper! It's so nice to see you. We've been worried about you. Good to see you're getting out again. You know Gary and Kelly."

Harper exchanged polite smiles with the couple. "And this is Jason Adler. He's the rector at St. John's Episcopal. Jason, this is Harper—she was married to my business partner, Tim Wood. We were all heartbroken when Tim passed away from pancreatic cancer in the spring."

"Hello." Jason reached for her hand with well-practiced sympathy. "It's nice to meet you. I was sorry to hear about your husband. I've heard a lot of wonderful things about you, though, from my church community." Jason's hand was warm, and he gave her a confident smile.

Harper nodded, her jaw stiffening. "Nice to meet you." She withdrew her hand and took a seat on the couch as heat erupted across her face and chest. How dare they? She thought. How dare they set me up like this without a word of warning?

Nora came back in and waved toward a woman in a black and white uniform who was wiping down the bar. "Tonight's signature cocktail is the Bloody Mary, of course. Would you like one of those or something else?"

"A glass of cabernet would be good, thank you." After Nora brought it over, Harper took a sip. It was good wine. She'd have to be careful not to drink it too quickly.

She sat back and glanced around the room, marveling once again at Nora's excellent taste. The decor, which ran to American traditional, didn't come across as stuffy at all. There were cozy alcoves and slanted ceilings; warm wool and cotton upholstery complemented the dark wood furniture. The effect was comfortable. But it wasn't stodgy, as Nora had honored the season with graceful displays of cream-colored pumpkins, dried hydrangea, and fairy lights around the room.

It contrasted starkly with Harper's home of high ceilings with sharp right angles made up of steel, glass, and stone, along with its uniformly dreary color scheme of black, gold, and white. Massive mirrors everywhere made the space seem even emptier. Better Homes and Gardens vs. Luxe, she thought to herself. Still, the effect was similar in that, while the Mulhennys' house was more home-like, it told a visitor no more about its inhabitants than Harper's did. No indications of hobbies or trips invited curiosity, and no family portraits, startling art, or surprising pops of color presented themselves.

The men sat down and picked up their conversation about the business market, while Nora excused herself and disappeared down the hallway. Harper was grateful that Kelly Smith, whose husband Gary worked for Bob at Surgical Solutions, had an open place beside her.

Kelly held out a well-manicured hand, with nails lacquered in black, to squeeze Harper's shoulder. The scent of Black Opium wafted toward her along with it. "It's great to see you again. How are things going? It was heartbreaking, what happened to Tim. He was much too young. We've all missed seeing you around! Is Olivia coping well? Have you gone back to work?"

Harper took a sip of her wine while considering her reply. She wanted to steer clear of personal matters, even with Kelly, the one person here she could possibly claim as a friend. "No, I haven't gone back to work. I can't seem to find the energy."

"I'm sure you miss Tim. We all do. But you can't stay in that big house all by yourself all the time."

Harper had always liked Kelly, but now she felt a surprising surge of irritation. "That's not why I'm not working. I'm not working because I don't know what I want to do. And as for Olivia …" She shrugged. "It's hard to tell how she's doing when she's up in Toronto. I talk to her once or twice a month, but I haven't seen her since just after the funeral."

Kelly, whose daughter Jenny had been close friends with Olivia since they began kindergarten, showed a flash of surprise, but quickly covered her expression. She looked down to swipe an imaginary crumb from her immaculate burnt-orange sweater. "Well, Olivia has always been independent. Surely she'll be home for the holidays. But I thought you'd go back to work at the community college—why wouldn't you? You seemed to love your job there."

Harper studied the unmanicured nails wrapped around her own wineglass. "While I was home taking care of Tim, I realized that I don't like the job anymore. Maybe I'm just tired of it. I'm sick of grading papers and writing lesson plans. So, no, I don't want to go back to that."

Kelly nodded. "You need to try something different." She smiled. "I could give you a job in my shop if you'd like. No pressure, just part-time. It would get you out of the house and around other people."

Kelly's shop, a boutique called Celia's, was named after her now-deceased corgi. In it, she sold luxury clothing, perfumes, shoes, and accessories. Harper wanted to say I'd rather die, but managed to respond, "Wow. That's really sweet of you Kelly, I'll give it some thought."

"Being around people would do you good …" Kelly began before Nora appeared in the doorway.

"Let's move into the dining room. Dinner is ready."

Naturally, Harper found herself seated beside Jason Adler at the intimate dining room table that boasted an appropriate centerpiece—a cauldron filled with dry ice that provided enough smoke to make the lit candles and grinning jack-o'-lanterns atmospheric. The dinner was uncomfortable from the start. She smiled uneasily as they made a toast—to her. They marveled at what good care she had given to Tim during his illness. They said she had held up well in its aftermath. And they all thought it was wonderful that she had taken the time to mourn properly. Then they agreed it was time for her to get on with her life. As they talked, Harper felt her head erupt with the arrival of a full-blown migraine.

"Thank you," she murmured when it was mercifully over. She was grateful when the caterers came in with small cauldrons of pumpkin soup. As the wine was poured, the conversation became freer and more jovial. The noise level climbed steadily. While the Mulhennys and the Smiths talked, Jason inevitably turned to her.

As she lay in bed the next morning, she thought wretchedly over the rest of the dinner, which threatened to bring back the just-easing migraine. She knew the pre-dinner glass of wine had been a bad idea, but she hadn't wanted to draw attention to herself by refusing it. The wine caused the headache to compound with every sip. Annoyingly, she hadn't been offered anything without alcohol, not even a glass of water.

And then there was Jason. Recalling his smug, handsome face made her stomach churn. The Polo Intense cologne that accosted her from somewhere behind his black button-up shirt clashed with Kelly's Black Opium, causing Harper's stomach to flip. The combination instantaneously produced the sensation of an icepick piercing her head just above her left eyebrow. He'd been pleasant enough. He hadn't preached at her or invited her to church, which was nice. Yet she couldn't remember what they talked about early on. As he'd later droned on about his weight-lifting routine, she'd politely feigned interest. This was a common role she played: the interested listener. It had been a frequent requirement before Tim died. But in the intervening months of solitude, faking had come to feel unnatural. She felt like a robot running an unwelcome but familiar program.

To be fair, the Mulhennys' choice of Jason for the dinner party had been well thought-out. Tim and Jason were equally attractive, except where Tim was dark, Jason was fair. Of course, that made no difference to Harper. What struck her was how equally matched the two men were in demeanor.

Leaving the dinner party behind in her thoughts, she recalled the night she and Tim became a couple. It was her first weekend back at Wake Forest University for her sophomore year. She had gotten a little wild at a frat party.

After spending her freshman year alone, with no friends, she had discovered during summer vacation that people were right: alcohol really did make social interactions easier. She'd begun hanging out with a crowd, back home in Winterfield, that taught her many things in addition to that fact. She'd returned to Wake Forest confident that she would now make friends and fit in. In one way it had worked: fitting in hadn't been a problem, but making real friends still eluded her.

She'd never used a beer bong before that night. After quickly forcing down a few glasses of cold keg beer, she decided to give it a go.

She remembered running outside to throw up on the bushes near the back door. Then, looking up, she saw Tim standing there with a beer in one hand and a concerned expression on his deeply tanned face. "Hey," he said, "I know you. We had math class with Finkle last semester."

Harper's eyes teared up from the embarrassment of getting sick in front of someone … anyone. She stood up, planning to make her way back to her dorm, but the young man suddenly tilted sideways and she stumbled. "Are you okay? It's Harper, right? My name's Tim." He put his hand on the strap of her sundress. "Don't worry about a thing. I'll take care of you."

He was as good as his word. He took care of her from that point on. But did he love her? She considered the question before leaving her bed. Harper had her doubts. She'd come to believe love was possible for a few lucky people, but not for her.

Sighing heavily, she reached over to her nightstand for an intricate silver compact mirror with gold vines winding around its outer case, a childhood gift from her grandmother. It had come with a handwritten note that said, "Always remember how magical you are."

She opened it, despite the familiar brown and gray mottling on the mirror's surface that had long rendered it unusable. She squeezed it tight. "Grandma," she whispered, "what happened? How did things go so wrong?"