Not Ethan, not my kids. Not even Kelly, Gabriela, and Josie, my three best friends from college. We still talked all the time and got together once a month for virtual book club. It was the only thing that made me feel like me when every other part of me was wrapped up in being a wife, mom, daughter, nonwriting author, and former big deal. Who else was I? Apparently, a witty luxury-home connoisseur who could spot a four-bedroom with space for a powder room from a mile away.
