The View From Alameda Island. Robyn Carr

squeeze her hand so tightly it caused Lauren to wince and pull away. She wasn’t sure exactly what was wrong but she knew it wasn’t right. Even at her tender, inexperienced age Beth had said, “Lauren, what are you doing?”

      “I’m marrying a handsome and successful doctor!” Lauren had said, beaming with joy. Lauren was seeing all those things they’d never had growing up—financial security, a beautiful and spacious home, cars that didn’t break down, dining out, vacations... But behind the brightness of her eyes, something else lurked. And of course they hadn’t even gotten through the wedding without tears of anguish and serious doubts. As anyone close to the couple could see, Brad, ten years older than Lauren, was temperamental, self-centered, grumpy and an egomaniac. He had a widowed mother, Adele, who was just an older version of her son. Adele was a controlling and temperamental sourpuss who had very firm ideas about what exactly was good enough for her entitled only child. Except Adele didn’t know how to be charming. While Lauren and Beth had grown up in relative poverty with their single mother, Honey Verona, Brad had grown up well-to-do.

      Right before the wedding Honey said, “Lauren, don’t do it. You must see he won’t even try to make you happy.”

      “But everything is planned and his mother paid for it all!” Lauren protested.

      “It doesn’t matter,” Honey said. “You can walk away. Let them sue us.”

      Lauren almost didn’t marry him. It was a last-minute melodramatic moment when she said, “I can’t. I’m just not sure.” Beth almost threw a party. But then she and the other bridesmaids were banished from the room while Brad’s mother took over, having a heart-to-heart with Lauren. Dame Delaney was a force to be reckoned with...

      And the wedding proceeded.

      Beth and Lauren were nothing alike and yet they were vital to each other. Beth was a professional photographer. She did a lot of weddings, anniversaries, parties, even funerals. She also shot bridges, fields, wildlife, flowers, children, elderly people, beaches, sunsets... Beth was an artist. But she photographed a lot of people and she had learned to recognize who they were in their eyes, their expressions, their body language, their smiles or frowns. She could read people.

      She had read Brad right. He was an asshole.

      Lauren was more scientific. More pragmatic. A plotter and planner.

      Beth had been married to Chip for sixteen years. They weren’t able to produce children on their own so they had adopted a couple. Ravon was thirteen; they’d had him since he was four. Stefano was nine; they’d had him since he was two. Both came through the foster care system. Chip was a cop and big-time sports enthusiast, particularly golf. He taught the boys to play and the three of them were doing something that involved a ball every free second. Beth lived in a kind of rough-and-tumble house with a husband in a high-risk profession; she was always fighting that testosterone poisoning that created messes wherever it passed.

      But Beth was not wired to take the kind of shit Lauren put up with. She rode the men in her family hard, insisting they pitch in and help, demanding courteous behavior. And she was just a little thing. A little thing who could haul forty pounds of camera equipment everywhere she went. Ravon was already taller than her, but that hadn’t made her meek at all. She could bring all three men in her house to their knees with one killer stare.

      Lauren showed up looking sleek and rich in her workout clothes, her thick chestnut hair pulled back in a ponytail. Lauren didn’t ever seem to sweat, either. She sat at Beth’s breakfast bar with a bottle of water while Beth dried the last of the serving platters. “How was your party?” Lauren asked.

      “Loud,” Beth said. “Bunch of cops and their spouses and kids. All the usual suspects. They stayed too late and disturbed the neighbors. It was great, in other words.”

      “We went to a cocktail party for a retiring doctor. I overheard Brad tell a couple of men he had to take the management of the finances away from me before I ran us into the poorhouse. Now he lets me keep track of my little paycheck while he manages the rest.” She sighed. “I don’t recall ever being in charge of the finances.”

      “I was just about to ask when you were in charge of the money...” Beth wasn’t surprised by this mean little dig from her brother-in-law. “If he poked at me like that, he’d pull back a bloody stump,” Beth said.

      “He doesn’t realize this, but he doesn’t have much longer as my jailer. I just don’t want to stress Cassie. I’ve put up with him for twenty-four years, I can put up with him a few more weeks. Get Cassie out of college.”

      The sound from the den erupted in a roar—someone made a basket, goal, or hole in one and Beth’s men yelled. “I wouldn’t have been married to him long enough to get my babies out of nappies, much less college,” Beth said.

      “They can’t hear us, can they?” Lauren asked.

      “They couldn’t hear us if we were talking right into their dense male faces,” Beth said.

      “I put a deposit on a rental property that will be available July 1. I’m going to talk to the girls and move out. I’ve scheduled my vacation for after Cassie graduates and the first week of July. I suppose it will be sweltering.”

      Beth’s mouth hung open for a moment. “This isn’t the first time you’ve said this,” Beth said.

      “It’s the first time I’ve rented something,” Lauren said. “I’ve been to the lawyer, planned this out carefully. Listen, I’m sorry you’ve had to put up with me and my rotten marriage, my vacillating, my lack of courage and my mean husband. I’m a load and I know it. And now I need a favor.”

      “You know you’re welcome here,” Beth said.

      “That’s not what I need. I’m going to pack up some boxes and suitcases. I also have to buy a few things—new linens, some new kitchenware, that sort of thing. I need a place to store it. Someplace no one will notice.”

      “The guest room,” Beth said. “We’ll close the door. Can I say one small thing? Can I say, please God, please really do it this time! There’s still time for you to have a life.”

      “I’m going to do it,” Lauren said.

      Beth gave a heavy sigh. In spite of all the bad things, Brad and Lauren had also been generous. He’d loaned them twenty-five thousand dollars to try in-vitro fertilization; he’d loaned them another twenty-five grand to build onto their house to make room for the boys. He and Lauren stepped up when Beth and Chip needed an expensive tutor for Stefano because he had a learning disability. Of course, Beth had long suspected Brad liked giving people loans they would take a long time to repay because it gave him power over them.

      “Honey would be ecstatic,” Lauren said. And immediately her eyes filled with tears.

      They’d lost their mother two years ago. She’d been killed in a car accident; a truck driver had a medical episode, lost control of his huge truck and struck three vehicles, killing three people. Honey had never known what hit her—her death was instant, thank God.

      “I miss her so much,” Beth said. “It’s just the two of us. I’m there for you. You’re there for me—let’s remember that. You’ve been to this lawyer how many times?” Beth asked.

      “Leaving a man like Brad takes very careful planning,” Lauren said.

      “Are you afraid of him?”

      “Of course. Not afraid he’ll physically hurt me. He never does that...”

      “A pinch here, a squeeze there...” Beth said, inexplicably rewashing a perfectly clean serving tray.

      “He calls it affection gone a bit rambunctious,” Lauren said.

      “Because he’s a liar. An experienced gaslighter.”

      Lauren sucked in her breath.

      “All right, all right,” Beth said. “I’ll try to say nothing and just hope for the best.”