Page 1 of The Art Of Starting Over

One

Devorah

There’s a moment in everyone’s life when their world crumbles around them. For Devorah Campbell, her moment came while she sat in a nail salon, getting a pedicure and scrolling through her phone on one of those popular vlogging apps.

She thought of her nine-year-old daughter, Maren, who was addicted to the videos, always laughing, dancing, and begging her parents to let her have an account. Devorah and her husband of fifteen years, Chad, had banned social media from their home. They felt that, while social media had some advantages, they didn’t outweigh the negatives for an impressionable young woman like Maren. To appease her daughter, Devy had signed up with one of those user1227985812426 numbers, left the profile and bio blank, and allowed Maren to watch on her phone. Together, they followed their favorite actors, actresses, musicians, and vloggers. A few fun accounts were mixed in from some of Maren’s classmates and Dev’s best friend, Ester.

While her favorite nail tech, Kristin, painted her toes hot pink, Devy moved her thumb up the screen to switch the video. She smiled when Ester’s newest video came on the screen, and she popped her earbud in so she could listen to what she had to say. She was always talking about their homeowners’ association drama, which they had quite a bitof—the “Don’t let your springtime lawn get over an inch and a half, or Nicole, the overzealous HOA president, will come knocking on your door” sort of thing.

“Am I the asshole? Ugh, I am. I truly am. I did the unthinkable, and I don’t know what I should do.” Ester sighed and shook her head. “I’ve been having an affair with my best friend’s husband, and I’m in love with him, and he loves me. I don’t know what I’m going to do when my best friend comes to me after her husband leaves her. What am I going to say?”

Devy’s heart hit her stomach and didn’t bounce back into place. Tears filled her eyes.Shewas Ester’s best friend. They had been since college and now lived one block away from each other, living the suburban mom life with PTA meetings, school plays, and whatever sport their kids were involved with. She’d held her hand when Ester’s husband filed for divorce. Ester’s daughter, Rita, was Maren’s best friend. They often spent the night at each other’s houses, sat next to each other on the bus and in class, and were generally inseparable.

Was Devorah the best friend?

Was Chad the other man?

She didn’t know what to do or what to think. The video started again, and Devy found herself listening to the words on repeat. Each time stung more than the next. There was no way Chad would ever cheat on her. They were happy and in love, high school sweethearts who went away to college together and never looked back on their small ocean-side hometown. Most of their classmates stayed, working in various family businesses or joining fishing or boating charters. Jobs neither she nor Chad wanted. Nor did they want the small-town life for Maren. They wanted her to experience life and go to school with more than ten kids. They wanted her to have more than they’d had.

After they graduated from Northwestern, Chad took a job in finance, while Devy went to work as an estate curator. She loved going into homes, especially older ones, and helping families liquidate their possessions. Her job was fun and never stressful, even when she had towork on weekends. The job, and her career, brought her a lot of satisfaction, and it allowed her time to always be present for Maren and whatever activity she had going on.

Ester’s voice brought Devy back from her reverie. She shook her head and looked at her friend’s face, frozen on her screen. She didn’t look sad, upset, or distraught. Shouldn’t she be, if she was having an affair with her best friend’s husband?

Chad would never do this to her. Nor could she fathom Ester being so classless as to make a video about their affair and put it online. Were people inherently evil? Devy had seen some truly nasty things on the internet, but this one took the cake, and she couldn’t stomach thinking this was about her.

“Devorah, please don’t move,” her nail tech said.

“Kristin, I need to go.”

“You’re almost done,” she said. “Five more minutes.”

Five minutes seemed like a lifetime. She sat there, with her phone clutched in her hand, while Kristin put the last coat of polish on her toes. One more drying cycle and she’d be free to go.

To where, Devy had no idea. She couldn’t do anything irrational, like burst into her husband’s office and ask if he was having an affair, or do the same at Ester’s office, demanding to know why she would post such a horrible video for someone to find. And if it wasn’t Chad, then why would Ester say “best friend” in her video?

Devy paid and left without scheduling her next appointment. Her mind was elsewhere, with no direction. She got behind the wheel of her car and chided herself for thinking the video was about her husband. Chad wouldn’t cheat. He wouldn’t ruin the life they had built together. Yet something deep down inside told her he had. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why. She’d never had a reason not to trust him. At least none she could recall.

Never in her life had she thought about spying on Chad until now. She drove to his office and around the parking lot, looking for his car. It wasn’t there, despite it being lunchtime. He’d told her he never left forlunch; why would he need to leave when they had a fully functioning cafeteria on-site? Those had been his words to her ever since he’d started his job there. And she’d believed him. She had no reason not to.

Devy drove around again, this time much more slowly, looking at the bumper of each gray car to find theProud parentsticker Maren had put on her father’s car.

But she couldn’t find it. Chad wasn’t at work.

Devorah pulled over and called his office. His phone rang through to voicemail. She hung up and pressed his name on her contacts. Voicemail. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the steering wheel as tears of frustration welled in her eyes, tipping over the rims and falling down her face. That was when she saw the shiny pink of her toes and noticed she hadn’t bothered to put her shoes on, and she didn’t know where they were.

As if on autopilot, she drove to Ester’s house. They had plans later, and it was very unlike Devy to show up early, yet she was going to do just that. The entire drive, she told herself the video her best friend had posted wasn’t about her. Ester had other friends, people Devy didn’t hang out with, especially the ladies from Ester’s fiction book club. Their form of reading consisted of drinking bottles of wine and spreading town gossip. Devy liked to stay away from the rumor mill. The less she knew, the better. She never wanted to be caught in the middle of something.

Devy turned onto Ester’s street. Maren and Rita often cut through the neighbors’ yards to get to each other’s homes. Thankfully, the neighbors never seemed to care that the girls had worn a path in their yards. Their safety was far more important than some missing grass.

Ester’s car was in the driveway, but not in her usual spot. It was off to the side, as if she’d needed to get in and out of her garage. Devy parked and chided herself for looking at anything and everything possible to make it seem plausible her husband was there.

He wasn’t.

Chad wouldn’t do this to Devy. To Maren. To their family.

Devorah parked and got out of her car, barefoot. She walked across the grass until she reached the walkway, then went up the two concrete steps to the front door. Her hand was poised to knock. She hadn’t knocked on Ester’s door in years. Devy set her hand on the handle, pressed the lever, and pushed the door open.

Inside, the house was quiet and empty. She turned toward the hall and paused. The moans were undeniable. Ester was with someone.

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