My husband sent me a message from a beach resort: “I left with your best friend. We’re not coming back.” I replied with only two words

And, at forty-one, buying the house on Wren Hollow Lane in my own name with my mother’s life insurance, because she’d said, on the last coherent day, “Yvonne, buy a house.

Only your name.

I’ve been married twice.

I know why.”

Glenn had called that “a little cold.”