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“No, that’s okay.”Phillip wiped his brow again.“But, like, thanks.”

“No sweat.I’m a friendly guy, and I love dogs.Just in case you couldn’t tell.”

We’d come to my house, and so I stopped.

He didn’t.He just kept going.

I tried to nonchalantly stretch andnotwatch as he unlocked his front door and went inside.

As far as I could tell, he didn’t look back.

I considered doing a fast walk around the block, but nah, too much effort.Plus, I didn’t want Phillip to think I’d curtailed my exercise because of him.No rational reason for him to think that, of course.I entered my house, then plopped down on the bench by my front door to untie my laces.After toeing off my shoes, I hotfooted up the stairs and shed my clothes in the main bedroom as I made my way to the shower.I was well ahead of schedule for the day, but starting work a little early wouldn’t hurt.

Another busy day.

Like all the ones before and probably those ahead of me as well.

When I’d finished business school, I’d stayed in Los Angeles and gone to work for one of the biggest public-relations firms on the west coast.I’d been a cog.Had busted my butt for six years, but made little progress in the echelons of power within the agency.I’d only been assigned a couple of bigger clients, and all under the supervision of a man I didn’t respect.Who cut corners and wasn’t always ethical.But he brought in tons of money, so everyone looked the other way.

One weekend, I had a call about a client on our roster.She was in trouble, and my boss wasn’t answering her calls.Not her fault, but things looked bad.I raced to her side and helped her navigate the tricky waters of tabloid presses.

She told me I should start my own firm.That she’d be my first client.

I pointed out the non-compete clause in my contract.

She said she knew the head of the agency, and if she told the truth about my asshole boss—that he’d planned to leave her hanging—she’d get me out of my contract.

In all honesty, I hadn’t known about my boss’s decision to not help her.

Apparently she’d turned him down when he propositioned her, and he’d made it clear this was payback.

All very sordid.All very nasty.All very helpful in extricating me.

She was my first client.And she helpfully brought plenty more.

Maybe I should’ve stayed in Los Angeles.By then, though, the most important promotional interactions were online, and the internet worked at warp speed.Everyone had a smart phone.I could operate just as well from my house in my small town as anywhere else.And be near my parents who were aging.

Gracefully, my mother would say.

Too quickly, my sister Marcie would point out to me.Confidentially.

We wanted our parents to be around forever.

I stepped under the steaming-hot spray and let the water run over my sore muscles.My last marathon had been two weeks ago, and I was easing back into training for the next one.As I scrubbed up, though, I tried to parse out my thoughts.

Mom and Dad getting older.

Marcie with her two beautiful kids.

The work piling up on my desk.

Phillip…the enigmatic new neighbor.

The thing was…I’d always sort of wondered if the house was used for people fleeing abusive situations.Rob had arrived with a black eye and a broken nose.The young woman after him had seemed okay, but the woman after her—the one with the teenage daughter—had arrived with her arm in a cast.None of the occupants had stayed for long.Almost like the place was some kind of transitional housing.

Oh, and I spotted our local social worker, Anthony Rodrigues, coming and going frequently.Which was the other big clue.

I’d been attracted to Anthony when we’d first crossed paths about eight years ago—when he’d first come to town.We just hadn’t clicked.He’d been almost a dozen years younger and clearly not looking for anything serious.Now the guy was married, with twin toddlers, a six-year-old foster daughter, and an adorable librarian husband.