“But, who’s gonna pay for all of it?” Ellis asked. “Ty’s broke.”

“Don’t worry,” Julia assured her. “The price tags are all intact. As soon as these guys leave, I’ll take it all back for a refund.”

“Can you do that? Is it legal?”

“It’s not like anybody actually slept on the stuff, Ellis,” Julia said, rolling her eyes.

“Where’s Booker?” Ellis asked.

“If you were coming from Ty’s, you probably walked right past him,” Julia said, ducking into the hall bathroom. She began folding and arranging a stack of fluffy, white bath towels. “He’s out in the garage, trying to get the lawn mower started. Which I can’t wait to see—Booker using a lawn mower.”

“And all of this is for the movie people?” Ellis asked. “I was gonna just make sure all the beds were made, but Julia, this is above and beyond the call.”

“It’s nothing,” Julia said. She opened a shopping bag and lifted out a clear-glass apothecary jar, which she began filling with sun-bleached seashells from another shopping bag. She placed the jar on the back of the toilet tank, then stepped back to critique her handiwork.

“What do you think?” she asked. “Too fussy?”

“Very pretty,” Ellis said. “But is all of this necessary?”

Julia shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt, right? And anyway, we’re kind of having fun. It’s like getting ready for a big, important party. Besides, this is not all selfless. If Simon’s people use the house for the movie, Booker gets a nice finder’s fee. And if they make a movie here, maybe I can snag a job working for the set dressers. Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

“If, if, if,” Ellis said worriedly. “So much riding on this.”

“The house is going to look fabulous,” Julia assured her, steering her towards her own room. When Ellis opened the door, she almost didn’t recognize the space that had been hers for nearly a month. The yellowing sheers at the windows had been replaced with simple, white-cotton curtains with ball fringe, caught back on the sides with lengths of rope. The threadbare bedspread was gone too, and in its place was a quilt in soft sea-glass shades of blue, green, and aqua. Three fat pillows were plumped at the head of the bed. The cheesy art in the room, blurry prints of lighthouses and ducks, had been replaced with large, atmospheric, black-and-white photographs of Ebbtide, the dunes, and the beach right outside their back door.

“Booker?” Ellis asked, touching one of the frames.

“Yup. We had some of his shots printed at Kinko’s, and then we stuck ’em in frames from Kmart,” Julia said. “He does nice work, doesn’t he?”

“They’re gorgeous,” Ellis agreed. “Do you think he’d sell me copies of some of these? They’d be a great souvenir to remind me of Nags Head and Ebbtide.”

Julia gave her a curious look. “Do you need a souvenir?”

“Too soon to tell,” Ellis said. “Now, give me a job.”

“Easy. Booker says the thing that will sell the producers on the house is the amazing light, and the location, of course. So we need to wash all the windows, which it doesn’t look like has happened since the Reagan administration.”

“I’ll hit the inside windows, but I’ll have to get Ty for anything requiring ladders,” Ellis said.

She went down to the kitchen and filled a bucket with ammonia and water, and found a stack of old newspapers to wipe the windows. While she was texting Ty, Dorie walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table, her cell phone in hand, a stunned look on her face.

“Anything wrong?” Ellis asked, her heart racing. “The baby’s okay, right?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. The baby’s fine. I’m just … shell-shocked, I guess. Stephen just called.”

Ellis sat down in the chair opposite Dorie’s. “What did he want?”

Dorie had both hands resting lightly on her tummy. “He said he was just checking in, he wanted to see how I’m doing. He asked about the baby, you know—if I’m showing yet, if it’s kicking yet, et cetera.”

“That’s kinda sweet,” Ellis said, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“He’s hired a divorce lawyer and started proceedings,” Dorie said, her lower lip trembling. “And … he wants to buy out my share of the house.”

“Really? That’s good, right? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Dorie’s eyes filled with tears. “I guess. It’s just sort of sudden, you know? I thought I was going to have to be the one to get the ball rolling, because Stephen is such a procrastinator, but all of a sudden, he’s in a big hurry to get all these papers signed and get shed of me.”

“You were the one who was insisting on the divorce, Dorie,” Ellis reminded her. “And you just told me yesterday that it’s time for you to get on with your life. You’re even dating. Sorta.”

“Connor and I aren’t really dating,” Dorie protested. “I didn’t even let him buy me dinner last night. I paid for my own.”

“Have you kissed him?”

Dorie blushed.

“Maybe Stephen wants to get on with his life too,” Ellis said.

“Oh sure, he gets to have his life all neat and perfect,” Dorie said. She looked up at Ellis. “He’s leaving Our Lady of Angels. He’s been offered a job at Savannah College of Art and Design, in the development office. He says it’s a big pay raise, and something he’s always been interested in. I guess that’s how he can afford to buy me out.”

“That and the fact that he has a rich boyfriend,” Ellis reminded her. “Anyway, a raise means he won’t be making the same crappy salary you make. If he’s working at SCAD, it’ll mean he can afford to pay a decent amount of child support.”

“It doesn’t seem fair,” Dorie said bitterly. “He’s the one who screwed up our lives. He got me pregnant, and he cheated, and he walked out. Now, he gets the house, he gets a great new job … and what do I get?”

“You get to be a mom,” Ellis said softly. “That’s more important than a house, or a job, or money. Right? You get what you’ve always wanted: a child. None of that other stuff matters. You will be a fabulous mother, and Stephen will always have to know that he walked away from sharing a life with you and his child.”

“You make it sound like a Hallmark card,” Dorie said, sniffing. “What if I screw this up? I know I made a lot of noise about wanting this baby, but Ellis, I’m terrified. I don’t know if I can do this all by myself.”

“You won’t screw up,” Ellis said. “And you won’t be by yourself. For better or worse, you have to let Stephen be a father to this baby. And you’ve got Willa, and Nash, and the rest of your crazy, screwed-up family. And Connor, it sounds like. And us. You’ve got us, Dorie. You know that, right? We’ve got your back. Always have. Always will.”

“Willa!” Dorie said. “I almost forgot. Willa knows about the baby. Stephen ran into her this morning, and he just assumed I’d told her, and so he said something about her being an aunt. He said she nearly dropped dead of a heart attack.”

“If only,” Ellis said. “Oops.”

“So now I’ve got to call her and tell her the whole sordid story,” Dorie said, slumping in her chair. “And then she’ll tell Phyllis, and there’ll be this big shit-storm.”

“You could just do an end run and call your mother yourself,” Ellis suggested. “Sort of a preemptive strike.”

“Nuh-uh,” Dorie said glumly. “I’ll face Phyllis when I get home. And not until.”

Dorie propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her fists. “I am not looking forward to having this conversation with my sister.”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t called you,” Ellis said.

“Oh, she has,” Dorie said. “Repeatedly. I just haven’t chosen to call her back.”

“Coward,” Ellis said.

“Yup, that’s me.”

*   *   *

“He’s here,” Julia announced at six that evening, walking into the kitchen where the girls were congregated. Dorie was making guacamole and Ellis was squeezing limes for margaritas. Madison was coating the rims of newly purchased glasses with a mixture of lime juice and salt. “Booker just pulled into the driveway. He and Simon are walking around outside, talking.”