A Million Little Things: An uplifting read about friends, family and second chances for summer 2018 from the #1 New York Times bestselling author

Finally a subject that wouldn’t embarrass her. “I am. He’s great, but you know, a guy. There are things I can’t tell him.”

“Sure, because then he’ll want to fix things, and possibly beat the crap out of Chad.”

Zoe smiled. “He could probably do it. My dad’s in good shape.”

Pam grinned. “There’s a visual for you to hang on to. For the rest of it, stop thinking and start doing. The next time a nice, appropriate man asks you out, say yes. Look into getting your master’s. Figure out if you want to go back to teaching or not. As for being alone too much, make plans with your friends. What do you and Jen do together?”

Zoe bit her lower lip. Talk about an awkward turn in the conversation. Jen was Pam’s daughter. Zoe couldn’t say that Jen had become...

Pam sighed. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“I doubt that.”

“Jen has become something of a killjoy.”

Zoe stared. “You know?”

“Everyone knows. I can’t decide if I feel sorry for her or if she needs a good smack on the back of the head. I worried about my kids, maybe more than most, but nothing like this. She is obsessed with Jack.”

“The not talking,” Zoe murmured.

“The organic food. The cleaning products. Every time I go over, she asks me the last time Lulu got a bath. The only thing wrong with her son is that she won’t leave him alone for five seconds. He’s not talking because he doesn’t have to.” She paused. “Is that too harsh?”

“Not to me.”

“Well, I can’t say any of that to Jen. She would never forgive me. You’re not going to rat me out, are you?”

Zoe made an X over her heart. “I won’t, I swear.”

“Good. Now, how do you feel?”

Zoe considered the question. “Better. I need to stop wallowing and start doing.” She leaned forward. “I’m having a barbecue on Sunday. Would you like to come?”

“I’d love to. What time?”

* * *

Pam parked her SUV, collected her tote and headed into the offices of Moving Women Forward. MWF was housed in a small business park on the edge of Mischief Bay, about three thousand square feet that had been donated by a former client. Because of the cramped and shared office space, Pam did as much work out of her condo as she could. But every week or so, she had a meeting at the offices, either with staff or clients.

She greeted their volunteer manning the reception desk, then walked back to Bea Gentry’s office.

Bea, the director of the organization and one of the women who had recruited Pam two years ago, was about Pam’s age. She dressed in pantsuits and always wore a cameo on her lapel. Bea’s oldest boy and Pam’s youngest son had been best friends through high school.

Pam sat across from her and let Lulu out of her tote.

“You’re looking smug,” Bea said by way of greeting. “What have you been up to?”

Pam laughed. “I’m shocked that it shows, but you’re right. I’m feeling very good about things. I might have found the right woman for Steven.”

“I can’t believe you’re even looking. My kids would kill me if I tried.”

“Not if you got it right. Besides, Steven needs me to meddle. He’s finally given up his flavor of the week, which is great, but he’s not getting serious about anyone either. It’s time.”

She knew part of the reason for Steven’s change in behavior had been the death of his father. John’s unexpected passing had affected them all. Pam had been stuck in a kind of grief that had threatened to overwhelm her, while Steven had taken over the family plumbing business years before he’d expected he would. At first the responsibility had weighed on him, but he’d quickly grown into the position and now was doing a great job as president of the company. Which meant it was time for him to find the right woman.

“I wouldn’t have gone looking for someone for him,” Pam said. “But if I happen to run into her, then that’s hardly my fault.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll remind you of that when you have a total disaster on your hands. Remind you and say ‘I told you so.’”

Pam laughed. “That’s not going to happen.”

Lulu finished exploring the room and trotted over to Bea, who scooped her up and held her close.

“How’s my best girl?” she asked in a soft voice. “I like the buttons on your sweater. It takes a very fashion-forward girl to pull that off and, of course, you do.”

Lulu gave her a kiss, then relaxed in her embrace. Pam supposed there were people who would say her dog was spoiled, and while that might be true, Lulu was a faithful companion who had been by her side every second after John’s death. The little girl had missed her dad as much as everyone else in the family.

Pam shook off the memories and reached into her tote. This time she pulled out a file. “Tell me about Filia,” she said, opening the folder.

“We helped her five years ago, to get her nail salon up and running, and now she’s thriving. I think you’re going to like working with her.”

Pam was sure her friend was right. Bea had always done a good job of matching clients with coordinators. Moving Women Forward had a simple mission statement—they were there to help female entrepreneurs. That was it. A simple, clear vision. If a woman wanted to start a business, MWF was there to offer advice on everything from what to expect start-up costs to be to how to get a business license. If a woman already had a business up and running, MWF would provide mentoring, assistance with figuring out how to do payroll, manage employees and inventory. There were even cash grants and loans available. The services themselves were provided free of charge, but the client had to be accepted first, and that wasn’t easy.

Over the past couple of years Pam had learned that a lot of people said they wanted to open a business, but not very many of them were willing to put in the hard work required to make it happen. MWF insisted that clients take the first steps on their own—to show they were serious.

“I have a few ideas,” Pam said. “Her plans are ambitious. Let’s see if she can put them into action.”

Pam worked for MWF as a volunteer mentor. She took on a handful of clients every year. She was their point person. If she couldn’t answer a question, she would find someone who could. If the client was applying for a grant through MWF, Pam helped with the paperwork, then was her advocate through the process.

Filia hoped to expand her nail salon into a day spa. According to her paperwork, the space next door to her salon would be available in a few months. The location was good and she was already at capacity with her nail salon. It seemed to be the next logical step.

“I’ll let you know how it goes,” Pam said. She stood and looked at her dog. “You want to stay with Bea?”

Lulu wagged her tail and gave a little woof of agreement.

“Then I’ll be back in about half an hour.”

“If she gets restless, I’ll take her for a walk,” Bea promised.

“Thanks.”

Pam walked down the short hallway to one of the small meeting rooms. Filia, a petite, dark-haired woman in her late thirties, was already there. She stood when Pam entered and offered a nervous smile.

Pam introduced herself and they shook hands. They both sat at a small, round table in the center of the room.

Pam left the file closed. There was no need to get into the weeds just yet. Better that she and Filia get to know each other.

“Bea tells me you want to expand your business. Tell me about that.”