Faye was glad for its warmth and she was glad to let the heavy wooden front door of Joyeuse shut behind her. Again, she was headed out for a day of unpaid work on her own island. The stout door cut off the sound of Joe’s “Good-bye,” and Michael’s “Mommy!” as it closed behind her. She knew it hurt Joe when she disappeared for the day, but it would hurt him more if she sat around the house, gloomy and silent, and she just didn’t have anything to say. It didn’t help that they had already made plans to convert her office into a nursery when she miscarried. When she sat in that room, all she could see was the delicate shade of pink that they’d intended to paint the walls. This morning, unlike recent mornings, she had a coherent plan for her day. It was not to earn money, which was too bad since Amande wanted a guitar for Christmas. Today’s plan was to keep more money from flowing out the door and into the hands of environmental cleanup contractors.
