We walked wordlessly, the rest of the way home. When we got to my building, I spilled, "I think I'm going to visit my dad this weekend." Ryan was quiet for a moment and I thought maybe he didn't remember how I'd given him my life story when Barbara was sick. But then he exhaled and I could tell in his breath that he did remember.

"That's heavy. How did you decide?"

"A friend talked me into it." Pause. "It is heavy. I'm sort of freaking out. I haven't seen him in years." Another pause. "He wasn't a great dad."

"No." There was something in Ryan's tone that pulled my heart to the ground. Pity.

"But my mom was amazing. I didn't have it bad or anything."

"No," he repeated. Still with the pity.

"Please don't feel bad for me."

"I don't. I feel bad for me."

"Wait-what?"

"He was my dad's investor."

"You've got to be kidding me."

Ryan shrugged. "Everyone's over it."

"I'm not. I feel like dying."

"I felt slimy not telling you. I don't want to keep that from you. But... yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Please don't be sorry. I won't pity you if you promise not to be sorry."

"No deal. I have to be sorry. It's out of my control. So. Wow. I've never met somebody who hates my dad more than me."

Ryan's smile wasn't pitying this time, it was gentle. I'd call it affectionate if I didn't know better. "I don't hate your dad at all. He was a guy who made a bad decision. It sucked, but my family bounced back and he's in jail. He wrote my dad a letter apologizing several years ago. It was really nice. And... you."

"What about me?"

"He's your dad. I like him for that reason alone. You know." Ohmygosh. That was definitely affectionate. What was happening? I felt like my head and my heart were on the brink of explosion. "Anyway, you want me to come with you?"

"To jail?"

That smile. "To visit your dad."

"I'm pretty sure that's not in your job description."

"Maybe not as your boss, but as your friend, it is." A rhyme dashed through my brain. When I was little and "friend" was on my spelling list. "A friend is a friend to the END," my mom told me to help me remember. Maybe so, mom but there's nothing in there about jail.

"I'm just going to go by myself. I might not be my best self, you know?"

Ryan nodded like he understood completely, when really, there was no way he could relate. His dad was a noble, hard-working entrepreneur. My dad preyed on men like him. "Well," he said with a straight face, "tell him the Cutters say hi. And for what it's worth, we forgive him."

"I can't believe you knew this all along. And you let me come work for you."

Ryan waved his hand, "Meh. I don't think HR made the connection. And then you were a good worker."

No shadows would ever have to visit the Cutter family, I decided. They were stinkin' perfect. Self-actualized and forgiving and- "I'm so happy we're friends, Ryan." Then Ryan Cutter hugged me and he smelled like his apartment and I thought I could move into his arms and live out the rest of my life there. I tried to secretly step in closer, but he was already pulling away. My pride made me reciprocate.

"Have a good night. Let me know how it goes with your dad." He wasn't looking at me, which was very not him. As if my dad robbing his family weren't embarrassing enough, now I'd made things completely awkward.

"Will do! Have a happy Thanksgiving!"

And he was gone. I sprinted to my apartment, to call Gwen. "Please pick up, please pick up," I whispered, petting Barbara and checking her for any sign of injury.

"Hey Nore! What's the haps?" My friend. I missed her so. These conversations were a thousand times harder over the phone than in person. Before I started blabbing about Barbara and Ryan and my dad and the postcards, Pa's voice gave my brain a gentle rattle. Focus on others.

"Hi Gwennie. How are you? What are you doing for Thanksgiving?"

"I'm good. My parents are flying out tomorrow morning and we're ordering sushi and online shopping all day. Now what's up? You sound stressed."

"You know me well. But first I want to hear about you. Give me more." She was reluctant, but I prodded and pulled stories out of her. When I was sufficiently caught up, she insisted.

"You don't sound like you, Nore. What's up?" So I spoke freely with the only person I'd ever been able to do that with. She was my best friend when my dad was arrested, when my mom remarried, when my mom died, when I quit culinary school. She knew me better than I knew myself. It made me wonder if I would have needed the shadows to visit if Gwen still lived nearby.

I got the same exhale from her that I did from Ryan. "Okay, first of all, I'm so glad you're going to see your dad. You're in a good place for it. You weren't always. But you are now. I can tell."

"But what about Ryan?! His family?! My dad robbed them!"

"Well, yeah. But- hey! When did he stop being Little Cut?"

Huh. "I don't know." I heard her smile. She didn't need to say what she was thinking. "Listen, if it doesn't bother him, it shouldn't bother you. You have enough on your plate without having to worry about something that seems to be a non-issue. And for what it's worth? He's in looooooove with you."

"Oh please. You are off your nut. He's my boss."

"Love is not bound by org charts, Nore." I let that comment sit. I refused to engage with her insanity. I blew her off and changed the subject. I'd nearly told her I was considering reading the postcards, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. There were some things my heart guarded, even from Gwen. Instead I turned the conversation back to her and her surf lessons. A quick gut check confirmed I wasn't bitter about her new life anymore. In fact, if I ever did make it out west to visit her, maybe I could tag along on a lesson or two.

"You sound so healthy," she said suddenly. "Like high school Nora. Like homemade pasta and macaroons from scratch Nora. I've missed you, sister."

The lump in my throat made it almost impossible to answer her. "Thanks for hanging in there with me, Gwennie. I know I've been a high-maintenance friend."

"No you haven't. Not to me."

"You're just too good to notice. I love you, Gwenster."

"Love you too, Noresie."

My heart was so full, so nostalgic, so brave that I marched into my closet with Barbara on my heels and pulled my tin of postcards down again. The lid popped off and they sat, innocently enough, but I knew they could do me in with one word. I rubbed the top one with my thumb.

Dilly rolls. I had to make those. Right now, before I lost my nerve. I jumped up. "I hate to leave you again, Barb. I promise, I'm just running down the road. I'll be back in a flash." And I was. But I wasn't quick enough. Hands full of yeast and butter and dill, I dropped everything on my table. "Barbara?!" No answer. Oh gosh, what did I leave for her to get into? I burst into my bedroom. Relief dropped on me like a waterfall when I saw her laying on the ground, eyes bright, tail wagging.

Then I saw my postcards.