Atmosphere

by Taylor Jenkins Reid

While The rest of the crew needed some time to acclimate to the hard ground under their feet, it took Joan no time at all to readjust to the pull of gravity. But when she stepped foot in her apartment that first morning back, something felt off. It was as if she’d come home to her childhood bedroom or tried to drive the old sedan she had in college. They had been hers, yes. But they belonged to a version of her that she’d grown out of.

Griff was standing at the stove wearing a plaid apron that said, “Who Invited All These Tacky People?” And then over at the table, snapping green beans, was Lydia. “What is Lydia doing here?” Vanessa whispered. Donna waved Vanessa off. “Hank says that because she’s part of your mission, I had to invite her. Steve and Helene are stopping by later, too, so it’s the right thing to do. I tried to keep an open mind today. But when she got here, she said our house smelled like mold and we should look into that, so I’ve closed my mind again.”

It was the first Thanksgiving Joan had ever had without her parents and Barbara. But it was the first time she’d ever felt this at home.