“Once, in the dining room. Jesse Peters has a membership here and we met with a client.”

“I see him every now and then. Or used to anyway. I would catch him staring at me.”

“That sounds like him.”

“Oh, if you’re interested, the burger here is out of this world,” she said. “The chef actually won a burger competition on one of those shows on the Food Network. It comes with some amazing sweet potato fries.”

“I haven’t had a burger in a long time,” I said. “Is that what you’re getting?”

“Of course.”

I couldn’t help noting that Vivian would never have ordered a burger, nor would she have approved if I’d ordered one.

The waitress came by with menus, but Emily shook her head. “We’re both getting the burgers,” she said. “And I’d like a glass of Chardonnay.”

“Make it two,” I said, surprising myself. Of course, the whole afternoon had been bewildering to that point, but in a good way. Emily, I noticed, was gazing out the window, toward the putting green before she turned back to me.

“I guess our children are done with art class by now. What do you think London is doing?”

“Vivian probably took her out to lunch. As for what’s next, I have no idea.”

“Didn’t she tell you?”

“No,” I said. “Our lunch on Friday was a little tense, so we didn’t get around to discussing their plans.”

“They were tense with David, too, for a long time. It’s just a hard and awful thing for anyone to live through, even if it has to be done. And only people who’ve gone through it can understand how terrible it really is.”

“That’s not very encouraging,” I said.

“It’s true, though. There’s no way I could have made it without the support of some really good friends. I probably talked to both Marguerite and Grace on the phone two or three hours a week – maybe more, in the beginning. And what was strange was that prior to my divorce, I wasn’t particularly close to either of them. But I ended up leaning on them, and they were always there to prop me up when I needed it.”

“They sounds like lifesavers.”

“They are. To this day, I’m not sure why they were there for me the way they were. And I’m guessing that you’ll probably need the same thing – two or three people that you can really talk to. It was strange – I thought that my sister Jess or Dianne, who was probably my best friend at the time, would be my stalwarts. But it didn’t work out that way.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to describe, but Marguerite and Grace always knew how to say the right thing at the right time, in just the right way. Jess and Dianne didn’t. Sometimes, they offered advice I didn’t want to hear, or they questioned whether I was doing the right thing when what I really needed was reassurance.”

Considering this, I wondered who I would lean on. Marge and Liz, obviously, but they sort of counted as one person. I already knew my mom would get too emotional, and my dad wouldn’t know what to say. As for friends, it dawned on me that I didn’t really have any. Between work and my family, I’d let most of my friendships wilt on the vine in the years since London was born.

“Marge and Liz have been great,” I said.

“I figured they would be. I always liked Marge.”

The feeling is mutual, I thought.

The waiter delivered two glasses of wine. Emily reached for her glass. “We should make a toast,” she said. “To Marge, Liz, Marguerite, Grace, Bodhi, and London.”

“The kids, too?”

“Bodhi was the real reason I didn’t fall apart. Because of him, I couldn’t. It’ll be the same with London.”

I knew she was right as soon as she said it. “All right. But then, I feel like I have to put you in there, too. You’ve been pretty supportive so far.”

“And you can always call me any time.”

We fell into small talk then. I told her about London, while she spoke about Bodhi; she told me about some of the places she’d traveled in the years since we’d last seen each other. Perhaps because we’d already spoken exhaustively about Vivian and David, their names didn’t come up, and for the first time since Vivian had walked out the door, the anxiety I’d been feeling seemed to dissipate entirely.

The burgers eventually arrived and we each ordered a second glass of wine. The burger, as she’d predicted, was among the best I’d ever had. It was stuffed with cheese and topped with a fried egg, but because my recent lack of appetite had made my stomach shrink, I couldn’t eat more than half.

Our plates were cleared, but we lingered at the table, finishing our wine. She told me a story about Bodhi giving himself a haircut, laughing aloud when she showed me the picture on her cell phone. He’d lopped off, nearly down to the roots, an inch-wide chunk of hair in what used to be his bangs. His forehead shown through like a gap between teeth, but what made the photo priceless was his grin.

“That’s great,” I laughed. “How were you?”

“Initially I was upset, not only about his hair but that he’d gotten hold of the scissors in the first place. When I saw how proud of himself he was, though, I started to laugh. The next thing I knew, we were laughing together. Then I grabbed my phone. Now, this photo is framed and sits on my bedside table.”